Chapter Three: The Enemy (Part I)

Royce had to drag Cyan along with him. Both of them had decided (Royce demanded) that they go together to pick one out. The man was treating this like going to the store and picking out a pair of shoes. Neither of them was going to admit that they were concerned (scared) about going to the Kennels by themselves. Lieutenant Farse, a small man with a well-built frame and a baby face contradicting his menacing gaze, is assigned to drive them to the outskirts of the Providence towards the barren lands. His dragon, a tall woman by the name of Delilah, sat in the driver's seat neither acknowledging their existence nor taking her eyes off the road. Cyan couldn't help but notice how Farse's fingers rested on the Shock button of his military-issued controller. The creature didn't even flinch when Farse tapped the collar, brushing his fingers against it as if to check it was on.

Who knew how many times that dragon had been 'shocked' into submission that such a powerful being could be reduced to a chauffeur?

To what extent would he be able to discipline his own dragon?

Cyan didn't dwell on that aspect yet. Instead, he pulled out a small pamphlet the Lieutenant had handed each of the boys so they could briefly go over the types of dragons available. Upon reading, he found out that there are four tiers of dragons: green, yellow, red, and black. This system allowed new owners to see what level of aggression and intractability of dragon. Green were mostly young dragons just hatched and typically they were used as playmates for children of aristocrats. Cyan had found this odd considering how dangerous people thought they were, but in hindsight, it was a way to further way to brainwash them into submission at a young age. These babies had very docile like temperaments that could easily be molded into the most upstanding servants given time. Of all the dragons, they were the most popular.

Because Cyan was military, a yellow or red tier dragon was his best bet since it would be doing active battle and combat with various other dragons as well as training. Yellow-tiered dragons weren't as aggressive as red and were often exploited for their preserved natures. Depicted as the perfect servant or 'house pet', these dragons wee sought after by aristocrats who valued appearance rather than practicality. Red-tiers were for the experienced as these dragons were highly aggressive and less likely to be chosen. War dragons that had seen a bit too much action or dragons with a strong disposition were sought after by private agencies for security.

No one ever adopted a Black-tiered Dragon. They were undesirable and damaged goods. Some were old and others had lost their minds. Some were deformed or so crippled they were unfit for society. These dragons didn't get a second chance to live because once that stamp was branded on their cage, they were killed and auctioned off as scaled goods.

"Listen to the handlers," Farse speaks up as they see the building in the distance, "They'll tell you how to approach 'em. The Kennels ain't a pet shop. This is a stress-induced environment, both for you and the dragons. They probably can sense us now so they'll be riled up. The ones that breathe fire will have their lungs drowned. Can't have an incident on 'adoption day'. The non-firebreathers will be contained by any means necessary such as the ones that spit boiling water will be dehydrated for a few days, and the ones that spit acid will be muzzled."

Cyan observes Delilah half-listening to Farse's little speech. The chauffeur doesn't show a hint of resentment towards the news of how her species is treated. Her face is completely devoid of all emotions as if she is afraid that the slightest slip of composure will reveal her inner thoughts. The young doctor could only guess what tier she was. Possibly yellow, but something about her seemed guarded and controlled suggesting that Delilah may have been a Green tier. She shared the same complexion as his mother- dark, mocha skin that seemed to glow on sunny days as if made of rays of light. Her eyes however were light and her irises her a beautiful emerald color giving her a striking appearance. Her dragon form was probably more serpentine and slenderer suggesting she was a sub species of an Eastern dragon.

'Enemies fighting as allies, enemies pretending to be allies.'

Cyan shivered at the thought. His eyes flashed up meeting a pair of cold, reptilian slanted eyes reflected by the rear-view mirror. He felt hypnotized unable to look away.

How naïve were humans to think that a mere collar could stop a creature built to kill from harming them?

This opinion reminded Cyan that these were people he was dealing with.

He could not trust them.

He would treat them as he had every other person in his life: keep them at arm's length, just close enough to see but not close enough to touch.

Be there for their needs and nothing else.

Cyan was not a man of attachments.

His family had always treated him this way and it numbed him so- humbled him.

It also protected him from making the same mistakes as his mother who was killed by her own dragon. He snapped his gaze away from hers feeling something come over him. As the car eased into a stop, both boys got out the car. Cyan glanced back at the car finding it harder to consider the creature inside anything other than an enemy.

The building looked official on the outside like any other non-existent secret facility to match the conspiracy theorist's ideologies. However, on the inside was a completely different story. Once you get over the smell of feces and the slight buzz from the insects, it was drafty and the lighting was piss poor. The Kennels were exactly as Cyan expected it to be. The grey-cemented wall that surrounded them on all sides was constricting. Going through the screening and electric fence had been very military- secret-base like. The further they entered the building, the sooner the scenery changed. It vaguely brought back images of Cyan's home back in Providence C as he stepped into the initial room of the front desk. There was a wave of gate-closing panic that made it hard to swallow.

The man behind the desk had a greasy sort of appearance- one that remained Cyan of the grizzly men that used to hang outside the local bar. The same men that would beat his brother unconscious watching as a ten-year-old Cyan dragged the older boy with both disgust and appreciation for the child.

The man stands up revealing his sharp angles and aggressive display of masculinity. His large physique strained against the dark blue jumpsuit he wore. His smile was all too wide especially as he eyed the young men from afar. Cyan didn't like the lingering gaze on him and scowled. From the look on Royce's face, he didn't seem to bothered by the atmosphere.

"We've got two new recruits of the King's Army ready to go." Lieutenant Farse says as he steps up to the man.

Shoulders back and hands folded behind him, Cyan is a bit disappointed the man ignores the rat that bares its teeth at them.

"Ah, fresh out of the academy, eh? Well, I will be here to assist you today personally. Call me Mr. S if you will." his voice resembles chalk scratching a blackboard. It is ear- wrenching sound that made Cyan flinch when he hears it.

The man's unholy grin only widens when he spots Cyan's reaction. Eyeing the young man only causes Farse to tighten his fist hidden from plain view and his voice sharpens as he speaks.

"We are on a tight schedule so if you will."

Smirking at this, his glance drifts slowly away from Cyan before he steps from behind the counter and nods his head in acknowledgment.

"Consider me at your service gentlemen. Welcome to our fine institute known as The Kennels. Names?"

Mr. S holds out his hand.

"Wilder."

Royce spoke up, ignoring the extended hand in front of him.

"Blue."

Cyan murmurs softly, feigning his own ignorance to the eyes on him.

Mr. S narrows his eyes briefly as his smile stiffens across his face and he folds his arms over a large chest.

To Cyan, he resembles that of a gargoyle looking over the world guarding something that should never be crossed by mere mortals. It feels like he's a lamb getting prepared to be slaughter. It's the beginning of a bad legend as two sacrificial teenagers join the ranks of men.

Cyan is shaking, not with fear, but with anticipation.

"Here at The Kennels of Providence B, we offer the finest selection of dragons, both for military and 'personal' needs," he winks over at Royce, "As I say, you can find almost anything from English Drakes or Eastern Lindrum and heck I think we may have a few Asian dragons and Wrym as well."

He turns toward Royce with an arched eyebrow surveying the man.

"I believe you are a man who'll enjoy the exotic natures of a dragon," he smiles looking over at Cyan and Farse, "We're all men here so let us be open. I think, you, young man would like something pretty and soft- a good caretaker for those long nights abroad. Something that'll keep ya warm during those cold, long evenings, no?"

The glint in his eyes is all knowing seeing by the way Royce's ears redden as he turns his face away to stare at a poster barely readable anymore. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and Mr. S lets out a laugh causing his whole body to shake with him. Cyan sneers inwardly.

He never saw the appeal some people had towards banging a creature that could tear your limbs apart. To him, it was like a mouse kissing a lion.

A hard no for him.

If he was going to engage in such promiscuous activities, he wanted it to be with someone of his own species.

Though granted, humans weren't much better.

Mr. S had turned to Cyan looking at his pursed lips and tense shoulders. The young man doesn't acknowledge the frown the older man gives him before the greasy smile appears once again. He ruffles Cyan's head making the younger man squirm at the contact.

"Ah, you, my boy, are someone who desires power. Strength. Something that'll follow orders, yet kill a man on command. I think you'll like our English selection- sturdy, built things that aren't as gentle at the eastern dragons or as temperamental as a northern one."

He shook his head as he laughed. Cyan wondered what was so funny from what he had said. He attempted to move a bit further away from the man feeling claustrophobic from just close quarters. Sensing his words had sleek words had not tempted the man, Mr. S tightened his hand ever so slightly before dropping his other hand (not before yanking one of those pretty dark curls). The younger man frowned at this before pulling fully away and standing closer towards his Lieutenant.

Opening his arms wide like a man welcoming home family he hasn't seen in a long time, he gestures to the door behind them.

"Let us proceed to the pickings."

Farse pats Cyan on the shoulder giving him an awkward gesture of kindness before following after Mr. S. Royce grabbed him by the hand and yanked him through the doors that led to The Kennels.