Dragons in our Midst... A Spyro Fanfiction

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A young teenage girl dashed through the fairgrounds to rid herself of her adversaries. Clutching a stuffed-to-the-brim duffle bag, she darted around the corner. Panting, she reached up to brush her bronze bangs out of her eyes. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she tried to steady her mind. Opening them, she glanced at a mirror that showed a reflection of where she just turned from.

Walking down the fairground's street, were a group of ten men who tried to look as unnoticeable as possible. Which was hard for them. For one, they all wore black. Two, they were well defined. Very well defined. And three, they were pushing and shoving through crowds, and leaving hundreds of women in awe.

She couldn't resist rolling her brown eyes, and did. But they were getting closer. And that was a problem for her. She looked around for some place to escape so she wouldn't be caught.

What had she done? Oh yes, she remembered. Her eyes started to water as she tried to banish those thoughts from her mind. As she shook her head she noticed a tent of some sort. She heard hurried steps getting closer as she glanced back. She made a split second decision and sprinted to the opening. Just as the curtain closed behind her, a black dressed adversary looked sharply around the corner and stepped into the alley, examining the one tent inside.

As he took in the scene, he looked closely at the curtain, which ruffled slightly, by the wind or by a living being he wasn't sure. His eyes narrowed at the shimmering crimson piece of fabric and he wondered why he was doing this.

Why was he chasing a young girl who absolutely had nowhere to go, no one to find, and nothing to live for? Sure, she had gotten into some trouble, but was that enough to involve the FBI? No one ever told him anything. Follow orders, that's all he was told. He was a smart guy, his life's dream was to become a lawyer, but no, his father wanted him to stay in the family business. Just because four generations of Carnlites had, doesn't mean he had too, did it? What was wrong with being a lawyer? They still helped the government, in one way or another. But no matter what he said, he was still an FBI agent. A very good FBI agent, if he had to admit it.

Carnlite sighed and put on his game face. No matter what, a job is a job, and he was going to do it right. He looked at the tent and snickered. A fortunetelling tent. How original. Covered in red and gold silk and embedded with swinging tassels of jewels, it looked like the idiot spent five minutes throwing stacks of fabric all over it.

He glanced swiftly at the sign. Madame Futara's Fortunes it read in gold flowing letters. Carnlite rolled his eyes and poked his head between the curtains. The inside of the tent looked as hazardous as the outside. The only difference, he thought as his eyes watered and he sneezed; was the amount of incense. It was everywhere. There was so much of it; you could see it wavering even in the back of the room. Jasmine. He hated jasmine. That was his ex-wife's favorite scent. It still lingered inside his house.

Carnlite wanted out of there. All the incense, the crystal balls hanging everywhere, and a snake peeking its head out of a basket reminded him of his ex-wife. He pulled his head out of the curtain and sneezed. Jasmine always irritated his nose. He rubbed it as he sneezed again.

That decided it. The girl wasn't in there. Carnlite shook his head as he started walking out of the alley. Then he sneezed again as he turned the corner. God, he hated jasmine.

Back in the tent, a barely tanned hand pulled away the curtain. The snake lifted its' head and looked at her questionably. She hushed it and stroked its head with red French manicured nails. The snake licked her lovingly and settled back into its basket.

She stepped carefully from behind the hanging silk and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She never thought about it before, but being chased by men with the intention of killing you was bad for your heart and sanity.