The Formula

Chapter 12

Felix dashed over the rooftops, trailing the cobalt dragon, Gustaf. He leapt over a particularly wide gap and scrambled up the other side. Gustaf craned his neck to check on him, but otherwise kept up his brisk pace.

They had to be fast. It was broad daylight after all. When Felix had queried whether going to their destination across the roofs was a good idea, Gustaf had simply rolled his shoulders in a dragon way, saying, "We'll be fine."

With those giant ears of his, Felix didn't doubt he could detect a pin drop from a kilometre away. Still, going in the car the other freedom fighters had taken seemed a better idea. Felix secretly deduced that Gustaf simply preferred doing things as a dragon. Felix hadn't seen his human form since the first day they had met.

Gustaf's ears twitched and he threw himself behind cover. Panting, Felix did the same, twitching his ears trying to hear what he did. It took him peering from around the chimney to see somebody out on their porch several blocks away, hanging up laundry.

Felix marvelled at Gustaf's senses. He thought his were sharp.

They continued once the person retreated back inside, slowing only once they were two rooftops away.

Felix bent in a crouch, like a wolf ready to pounce, studying the area before him. They were in the thick of the suburban city—in the part of town where the most expensive of trinkets were sold; jewelry, watches, designer handbags and most important, art.

The dragons did a full circle around their target building, studying everything that they could from the outside. There were several guards—at least four—stationed on the roof, with a few more on adjacent rooftops. They gave them all a wide berth, remaining undetected.

Felix had heard of the art gallery before. It once housed the famous Carre De Carté. Now that he thought about it, its tragic disappearance coincided all too well with recent revelations. He bet Gustaf knew something about it. The dragon wasn't especially forthcoming at the best of times though. He would have to ask later.

The building was a big old thing, with pillars in the front and cloth posters revealing the latest displays. Signs displayed outside the main door indicated that the gallery was closed for cleaning. Felix knew better. Their contact was in there, somewhere.

"Ground team to sky team," a voice suddenly buzzed in Felix's ear. He and Gustaf wore earpieces. "We've arrived at the location."

Gustaf grunted in reply. He gave Felix a nod, and padded off in the opposite direction. Felix worked his way towards one of the rooftop sentries, crouching low. When the man was within striking range, Felix stopped, waiting for the signal.

He saw Gustaf's tail wave from behind a chimney. He coiled himself like a spring before pouncing. He struck the sentry from behind, knocking him flat on his face. Before the man could utter so much as a yelp, Felix took him by the neck and gave a violent shake.

Spitting blood from his lips, he dashed to the next sentry, moving between the cover of the obstacles on the roofs. After waiting behind an air conditioning unit for a few moments, he pounced on his next victim, dispatching him in a similar way.

"They're down on my side," Felix announced into his radio. A grunt was his only reply.

Next, both dragons turned inwards, to the four sentries patrolling the gallery rooftop. These men were more spread out. They would have to be quick to take them all out without them sounding the alarm—or shooting.

Felix pumped his body, dropping all prospects of stealth. This time, his target noticed his gray shape before he pounced. The sentry screamed, and brought his gun around, but it was too late. Felix slapped it away and kicked him, launching him towards his comrade.