Dragons of the Apocalypse - An Achievement Hunter and Ray Narvaez Jr. Fanfiction

Chapter V: Fire

Michael always seemed to radiate rage. He was like the exact opposite of Jack, with his fiery temper matching his breath power. To be fair, it wasn’t really his fault that this temper developed, he lived in a bad town and needed to be able to fight and terrify to survive.

Though this was true, Michael was actually a good draconian. It took a lot to gain his friendship, but once you did, he was one of the best friends you could ever have. Not only could he beat up anyone that got on your bad side, but he also had a mouth on him that could rival a sailor’s. Michael also always wore a beanie atop his curly red hair and demon looking horns, and he also had several tattoos, so he wasn’t exactly someone you wanted to meet in an alleyway, or even on a street in general.

Honestly though, no one would have ever believed that Michael was a vessel. Actually, no one would have ever believed that ANYONE in that gang ridden town would have been a vessel.

In Michael’s case though, besides the way he fought primarily with strength, there really wasn’t anything that would tip someone off to him being a vessel. He had red as his color, which was pretty common, even though it was more of a blood red, and though his claws were medium length, his horns were pretty short and looked similar to horns that someone would stereotypically say belonged to the devil. Michael’s tail was adorned with various short, pointed spikes, and it ended in a pointed spade. He was very in touch with his breath power of fire, too, though you wouldn’t know since he usually preferred to just use brute strength when he fought.

The most recognizable part of Michael’s appearance, though, were his wings. They were almost ornate looking and a deep red color, so they most certainly stuck out. They also curled inwards upon themselves, with one large horn looking spine on the top of each wing, so they looked quite intimidating. The bottoms of the wings were ripped and torn as well, though they didn’t start out that way, they were actually damaged by all the fights that Michael got into.

So, to reiterate, Michael wasn’t exactly a prime suspect for being a vessel. On an oddly chilly and windy summer day, though, his eyes began to glow a fiery red.

Michael was doing another play through of Banjo-Kazooie when the pain in his eyes began to hit, but Michael just shrugged it off as staring at the TV for too long. When the agony began to feel like electric shocks, though, Michael knew something was wrong. He paused the game and ran to his bathroom mirror, which was cracked and shattered in places.

He did a double take when he saw the pupiless, glowing red orbs staring back at him from behind his glasses. Michael leaned forward and squinted, the reflection mirroring his movements, and couldn’t help but smirk and laugh when he realized what had happened. After he took control of himself again, Michael quickly rushed back to his bedroom and rifled through the items under his bed, pulling out a rucksack and placing it on said bed. He had been planning on leaving his hometown for a while, so Michael already had some things packed. Inside the rucksack were two canteens of water, a bunch of unperishable food, the remainder of his savings, a blanket, a pocket knife, and some spare clothes. Michael then added a first aid kit, his portable game system, and an old sword given to him by his grandfather a while back, who had said it had been in the Jones line of fire draconians for generations to the pack.

Deeming the amount of gathered supplies good, Michael hastily fastened the rucksack on his back and locked the door to his apartment, depositing the key into his pocket. Michael was then soon out of the apartment complex and on to the street, which he started sprinting down.

A few strong flaps of his wings and a leap later, Michael was in the air and on his way to Mount Coronor, happy that he finally had an excuse to leave that cruddy town he had lived in behind.