Not Just Ponies: Dragons of Pennsylvania

by Ardashir

Bombs and Dragons

Bram burst through the doors of the emergency room at St. Luke's, Cynthia and Tephra hot on his heels. Doctors and nurses and EMTs all froze as he yelled at the top of his draconic lungs, “WE'RE FROM THE CLINIC! FRIENDS OF GRANCH THE GRIFFON AND MISS MEWSETTE! WHERE ARE THEY? WE WERE TOLD THEY WERE BROUGHT HERE!”

“They are here,” someone said nearby after the walls stopped vibrating.

Bram saw the female EMT from the courthouse that morning. “They're both in one piece – ow,” she rubbed a hand against her ear, “and going to be fine. Miss Mewsette,” her face twisted in disbelief at the name, “has a broken arm and some bruises but is otherwise fine – HEY!” She yelled after the three dragons. “At least wait for me to get someone to help you find...”

They ignored her to race past several curtained off areas. Beds laid in them along with medical personnel and people in various states of distress. Most were human but here and there he saw a pony or the odd griffon or Diamond Dog, many of them having minor injuries being tended to. He also noticed some police present and looking unhappy. They glanced at the trio but ignored them. Bram wondered if they were left alone because people thought they belonged here or because no one wanted to argue with three large and upset dragons.

“GRANCH!” He roared. People nearby winced at the volume. Some glared. No one said anything. “MEWSETTE! THIS IS BRAM! WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Bram?” Granch stepped out from one of the alcoves. A bandage was bound around his side. Bram smelled blood mixed with the antiseptic odor of disinfectant. The griffon approached with a swagger. “Wait, that's really you? Yeesh, what are you doing here? And why did ya turn scaly now of all times?”

“I needed the armor,” Bram tapped a claw against his scaly chest. He looked at Granch's wounded side. “Looks like you needed it more.”

“How's Mewsette?” Cynthia looked around. “She here with you or did they discharge her already?”

“How big a fight was it?” Tephra sounded more eager and disappointed than worried. His voice roughened towards a growl. “Were they really yelling threats about the Dragon Lord?”

“Hey, dweebs, one at a time!” Granch set a claw to his forehead and hissed. “Ow. Darn side. Yeah, I'm okay, if it matters.” He puffed his chest out and, somehow, gave a nasty grin through his beak. “You shoulda seen the other flock.” He flexed his talons. Dark stains showed on them.

“Mister Granch, if you really don't mind?” A doctor came around the side of the curtain, short and busy and fussy with dark skin and hair. He held up cotton swabs. “We need to be checking the, ah, the evidence you and Miss Mewsette got from your fight with the other gentlemen. We want to be sure of the blood types of everyone who was injured so if they try to have themselves seen to at another hospital...”

“I know, I know,” Granch ruffled up his feathers in annoyance. “Those human guardsmen, ugh, I mean 'cops' explained it when they took those other jerks away. You gotta get that blood type-whatever so if the ones that ran off get help they can get arrested. Why bother?” He raised one foreleg and mimed making a muscle. “I taught 'em better. Those dweebs ain't comin' back for more.”

“Granch,” Mewsette's voice called from just beyond the curtains. She sounded tired and slightly loopy from whatever painkillers they'd given her. “Just let Doctor Anthony get the sample so he can go help someone else.”

The griffin grumbled but stood still as the doctor wiped swabs along first his beak and then his talons. “And please try to stay out of any more trouble,” he said as he finished and hurried away. “This is one place where we don't like to see repeat customers.”

“Yes, mother,” Granch muttered as he joined the dragons inside the alcove. Within lay a bed and on it lay Mewsette, in a hospital gown instead of her usual blazer. She had an IV drip attached and a splint on her arm and her usually free-flowing hair done up. Bram couldn't help but stare at her broken arm. If I hadn't pissed those people off, she might not be here.

“You okay, Mewsette?” Cynthia knelt by the head of the bed. She and Mewsette shared a quick hug, scales on fur. “They gave you something for the pain, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft. She lifted her splinted arm, grinned and winced. “They had to be careful because, you know, not too sure about how human medicines would work on me.” Bram nodded. There were surprising similarities between the biochemistries of Equestrian and Terran life, but there were some mighty big differences too. And not all of them were known yet. Especially with the less familiar Equestrian races. And those differences could lead to disaster if someone had a toxic reaction to a helpful-for-humans medicine. Mewsette gave a small laugh. “They wanted to try catnip but I said Granch couldn't handle it.”

Bram relaxed a little as Cynthia laughed along with Mewsette. She must not be too bad if she could joke.

“What happened?” Tephra asked the question they all wanted to know. He looked from Granch to Mewsette. “How did you two come to get hurt?”

“We didn't come ta get hurt,” Granch said evenly, looking straight ahead. “We came ta get back ta the job.” Bram groaned at the dry griffon humor. Granch shrugged. “Okay, okay. I went ta get lunch with Mewsette at that Mongolian Barbecue down the street – all-the-meat-you-can-eat. Anyhow, we was coming back and saw this big crowd outside. I noticed a couple of griffs at the edge with two human kids an' saw they were the ones still gettin' some lessons ta be griffons and on how we handle the grifflets.” He smirked. “Ah coulda told them ta just drop the kids off on top of a mountain when they act up and come back an hour later ta see if they'd settled down, but New Griffs get funny about stuff like that.”

“Granch.” Bram made a circling motion with one claw. “The fight. How you got hurt. Remember?”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Anyway, we saw those protester dweebs chase those griffs away. Mewsette wanted ta go 'round the back but I walked right up ta the nearest guy and asked him my politest, 'What's going on, punk? Why're ya chasin' away the folks we came here ta help?'” Granch shook his head. “He didn't like that. Called me a few names. I laughed at him. He got madder. Yeesh, what did he expect? 'Alien monster'? 'Damned catbird'? Those were his best?” He shook his head in professional disdain. “Just plain pitiful, if ya ask me.”

“Ahem”, Mewsette said from the bed. She tried to sit up. Cynthia showed her the control for it. Mewsette used it and when she was more upright said, “I'm afraid Granch was, well, not exactly polite when he spoke to those humans. They took it badly. Two or three dove on him and another grabbed for me.” She popped the claws on her other hand. “I gave him these across the face and he decided he'd had enough. Granch tossed his attackers to the side.”

“No claws or beak?” Tephra snorted. Granch snorted back at him.

“Hey, enough humans are afraid of griffins as it is, and we're supposed to 'be on our best behavior',” he jeered the last words. “Me, I say that when the humans show me their best behavior they can ask for mine.” As he spoke a pair of EMTs walked past the end of the alcove. He glared at them, fur and feathers ruffling up. They took one look at him, Mewsette, and the three dragons, and left. “I didn't use my beak or talons until I heard Mewsette yowl and saw her on the ground clutching her arm.” His face darkened. “After that, buck that scat. I started clawing.”

“It wasn't even one of them who did it,” Mewsette muttered, raising her broken arm and wincing. “I tried to get inside, tripped over someone's foot, and landed on my arm.”

“It wouldn't a' happened if they didn't start a fight with us,” Granch's voice was cold. It turned eager again he said, “Anyhow, I clawed a couple, bit a piece outta someone else, got cut sometime, an' by then those guys with the suits and the cops broke everything up.” He folded his forelegs over his chest in disgust. “Held a gun on me while they arrested those other humans. Like I was the problem.”

“More like they wanted to keep them safe from a two hundred and fifty pound griffin.” Granch looked pleased at Bram's words. He looked from the griffin to Mewsette. “Please. I have to apologize. I got there an hour or so before you two had your fight. I scammed my way past those protesters outside and flipped them off afterwards.”

“BRAM!” He winced at Cynthia's snarl. It echoed around the room, silencing the normal racket of busy doctors and complaining patients. As they began speaking again, she snapped, “How old are you, twelve?”

“Hey, lady, take it easy,” Granch laughed. “Anygriff woulda done the same – 'Ponies Flee, Griffons Fight.' And don't sit there looking sorry like some chump,” he lightly slapped Bram on one cheek. “Even if ya gave those losers something to think about, ya didn't make them attack us.”

“They did that themselves,” Mewsette nodded. As she spoke another stretcher was carried past. A groaning pony lay on it, a purple and blue unicorn stallion sporting a fine set of bruises. A red-brown Earth pony mare hurried along asking in worry about her husband. A pair of uniformed patrolmen accompanied her with the female EMT along behind. She stopped when she saw Bram watching.

“New Foal and her husband,” she pointed after them. Bram saw a pony doctor, New Foal or Trueborn, asking questions along with the officers. “Apparently someone got pissed over what happened at the clinic and decided to take a poke at the first pony they met.”

“Don't you just love humans?” Granch growled.

“Maybe you can say that to some of the still-human patients we've got coming in now,” the EMT gave Granch such a dirty look he looked abashed. Slightly. “Converts and Trueborns, and some of their human supporters, have been going after anyone who looked like they didn't support the end of humanity at those damn clinics.”

“Ma'am, we're not –” Mewsette stopped speaking as the EMT waved her hand in disgust.

“I know. I've heard it all before. It's a natural disaster and no one can change or control it.” She turned away. “The human race is still going to become extinct in my lifetime. That's the kind of thing pisses people off.” Another stretcher was brought in. This one had a human on it, a man. His shirt was ripped and his face and chest were slashed with three cuts on each. He'd been clawed. The EMT watched him be borne past.

“Griffon talons,” Granch observed. “Slashed him just enough to make a point. If a griff needs to kill, he kills.”

The EMT made a disgusted noise and hurried after the stretcher. “Dammit. How I love these busy nights.”

Bram hurried after her. “Ma'am,” he wished he didn't feel so useless right now, wondered if ought to say he was still actually human or if it'd do any good. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Really?” She turned and looked at him. Her eyes were dark and full of exhaustion and disgust. “Can you fix this?” She waved one hand around the emergency room.

“Actually? Yes.”

“Then do us all a favor, Godzilla.” She turned and ran down the hall to where someone was crying out in pain. She called back. “Hurry up and do it!”

# # #

When Bram and the others left the hospital, a few guardponies and medics from the local clinics were arriving to offer their services. Bram felt his worries redouble he took to the air, Tephra and Cynthia flying with him. He looked down at the city as he flew over it. No smoke rising, no buildings being sacked, no wild mobs. Nothing looked like the city was on the verge of a riot.

But it was. And he knew deep down that part of this was his doing. He'd added fuel to the fire if nothing else.

“What now?” Cynthia asked him. He took a moment to admire the way she and Tephra unconsciously reacted to every little change in the air, using the updrafts produced by trucks and cars passing below to help glide.

“I think I just want to go home,” Bram sighed. He looked westwards. The sky was clear and blue, with only a few small clouds passing high overhead. “Maybe I can get some quiet there while I figure out what I've got to do.”

“Just remember,” Tephra flew close by, a little above him. “You need to be at the clinic early tomorrow when the Dragon Lord apologizes,” he growled, his crest rising in his passion, “to that Branson-human and his miserable hatchling.” He snorted, thick smoke trilling from his nostrils into wisps as they flew. “She will need some supporters with her.”

“Should I go as a human, you think?”

Tephra shook his head no.

“The Branson hatchling threatened you, remember?” He looked at Cynthia. “You too. Dragon Lord Ember told me to stay with you until tomorrow.” He scowled and lashed his tail, causing him to dip for a moment before he regained his control. “We don't need anydragon else getting hurt now.”

Cynthia shook her head. “Do you really think anyone would go that far? A fistfight is one thing, but tracking someone back to their own home?” By now they were past the cement plant, flying down the streets in Siegfried Station. The streets were empty. Only a few cars drove by below. Bram hoped that was a good omen as he dropped to the ground to walk back down to his house.

“Maybe they did.” Tephra's eyes went wide. He dropped and pointed.

Bram looked and gasped. Cynthia set down beside him.

“Oh, Bram!”

He said nothing. He just stumbled forward, ignoring the broken glass under his scaly feet. Every window on the house was smashed, glass scattered inside and outside. The door hung on its hinges, the lock smashed. His home, his parent's and grandparent's home, all the way back to Colonel Siegfried before the United States even existed, had been wrecked.

“Bram!”

He didn't notice which of them said it. He ran forward until something landed on his back, sending him to the dirt.

“Bram, don't!” Cynthia tried holding him. He snarled as he fought back to his feet. She tried holding his arms, struggling to keep her grip. “Bram, hold still! You don't know who's in there, we have to call the police!” He ignored her, plunging and roaring. “Tephra, help me!”

“I don't care!” Bram roared. He tried to pull free as Tephra grabbed him. “Let me go!”

“You know, dragons defend their lairs,” Tephra said to Cynthia.

“Someone might be in there, armed,” Cynthia braced herself and held Bram.

“That's my home! I hope whoever did it is still in there,” Bram snarled, slavering, a fiery heat intensifying in his chest and throat. Cynthia and Tephra tightened their grip. He threw himself against their grip, tearing one arm free. He raised his free hand, claws crooked. “I want to rip them apart!”

“Bram!” Cynthia's hand blurred. Bram felt his head rock back. He staggered, shocked out of his fury. “Think. We've been threatened. This could be a trap.” She held his head in both her hands and stared into his eyes. “We have to call the police, right now. Or do you want the people who vandalized your parents' home to get away with it?”

Those words brought him up short as no warning of physical danger could. Then he thought again.

“One problem. I had to turn my phone off after getting those calls." He checked his backpack and groaned. "I left it at the clinic.” He jerked a thumb claw at the house. “And you said you turned yours off because of them. The only phone I've got is inside the house.” He walked inside as she yelled after him.

“Bram, don't be a fool!”

“It's this or nothing,” He called back. “Besides,” he turned and thumped a scaly fist against his chest, “what are they going to do, shoot me?” Those words reminded him of the pistols he'd seen Lawyer Branson's bodyguards toting, and of guns some NRA friends showed him recently, weapons that were becoming popular with the increase of near-bulletproof beings. Great big massive things like Ruger Blackhawks and Desert Eagle .50s and those .577 T-Rex rifle rounds used for big game hunting. Wishing he had a less potent imagination, he walked into his house through the smashed open door.

Inside he found less of a shambles that he feared. Books were tossed on the floor, pages torn from them. He groaned to see them. He recognized fifty-year-old Arkham House collectibles that an uncle left him, ruined forever now, along with many more. That widescreen Tephra and the ladies had bought for movie night was smashed. Even worse, the old framed family pictures were ruined. He growled and clenched his claws. He devoutly hoped someone was hiding in the house to await their return. He would enjoy seeing the look on their face as he wrapped his claws around their throat and breathed fire right into their face. “Drakarys!”

Moving quickly, Bram checked the house. Aside from all the windows being broken it looked like the damage was confined to the living room. Bram knew he should be happy they hadn't simply torched the place. He still wanted to break the necks of the vermin responsible for this.

“At least Molly wasn't here waiting for Tephra,” he muttered as he went for the kitchen phone. He stepped inside and froze. Completely out of place with everything else was a large white envelope sitting atop the counter. It bore only two words on it. For you.

Bram snatched it up. He ought to leave it for the police when they arrived. He knew that. Right now he was too angry to care. He sliced it open along the end with one claw.

Pictures were inside. As he set them down he gasped.

The first few looked innocent enough. Photos of his shocked face and Cynthia's angry one, probably taken by Nod the other morning. Had they been uploaded online? Pictures of Volcano, Tephra, of Dragon Lord Ember at her hotel suite. He wondered how the latter must have been taken. They looked to have been done with one of those fancy long-range cameras. Ember was standing in front of one of those big windows up there and looked to be arguing with someone off to one side.

Far more ominously, someone had drawn red cross-hairs over her head.

Bram turned to the next photo and froze. It showed the inside of what looked like an abandoned factory or warehouse. Nod's van was there. Sitting in front of it were half a dozen big white bags clearly labeled 'ammonium nitrate'. On top of and around those bags were piled boxes of nails. To his confusion at the edge of the picture he could see what looked like some sort of thick gray plastic cord. He wondered if maybe it was something from the previous owners that was abandoned.

One last photo. It showed the clinic. Nod's van was parked in front of it. A crudely drawn Princess Ember stood nearby, and an equally crude lit fuse trailed from the van. Along with, of all things, a smiley face. And all drawn in blood red ink.

Bram felt cold. Tomorrow. Ember and that jackass Branson in front of the clinic, with cops and Secret Service and reporters, you could trust Branson for that, and clinic staff and a nice big crowd on one of Allentown's busier streets. Probably a few hundred people, at least, and maybe more. He could just see that van come screaming from out of a nearby side street or alley -- he remembered almost a dozen of them leading to the clinic -- and before anyone could react –

“Bram!”

He yelped and dropped the photos as Cynthia turned him around. She half-growled, exposing her fangs in mixed worry and anger.

“What's the matter with you?” She picked up the phone and, very gently, punched in the number for the local police. Yes, of course, Bram thought woozily. Don't want to be breaking the phone now like Tephra did that one time when he hit the number-pad a little too strongly. Cynthia held it to her muzzle as she said, “Tephra's upstairs checking on his room. He was pretty unhappy about the TV, you know how he loves his movies. And you're supposed to be calling the police, and --” She looked down and saw the pictures. Her crest flattened as her slit-pupils widened. She picked them up. Bram faintly heard someone come on the other end as she did.

“Hello? Hello? Is someone there?” The voice was tinny and annoyed. Bram snatched the phone from Cynthia's unresisting claws as she stared at the pictures. “Great, another joker. Look, kid, whoever you are, we're kind of busy today with all the fallout from Miss Dragon Lady's little rant and --”

“Officer?” Bram said into the phone. “Please. Listen.” Cynthia set the pictures down on the counter as though they might explode. Her tail curled in close. He felt muscles tighten in his lower back and rump as his own did the same. “My house was vandalized and,” he gulped, “I think I found a death threat here. To Princess Ember.”

“Huh? What?” Bram imagined whoever was on the other end shaking their head in disbelief. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“Look, dumb-head,” Bram yelled into the phone. “Get me in touch with Agent Kingman from the Secret Service. He's the lead agent on Princess Ember's bodyguard detail. He has to have left some kind of contact information with you people. I'm telling you right now, someone's out to kill her and a lot of other people!” He slammed his claw down on the counter and heard something break. “Do you hear me?”

“Uh, Bram,” Cynthia pointed at what he held in his claw.

Bram looked. The phone dangled from his claw, a broken mass of plastic and electronics.

“Great,” he growled and dropped it to the counter. “Just great. Now what?”

“Well, for starters,” Cynthia tapped the photos, “we take these to Agent Kingman and have him show them to Ember. Maybe she'll listen this time.”

Bram shook his head. “You seriously think that?”

“Not really,” Cynthia shook her head. “But we have to start somewhere.” She gave Bram a brief hug.

“Bram, those humans wrecked your lair.” Tephra walked into the kitchen, muzzle thrust forward and snorting smoke. “That plasma-wide-whatever thing too! Now I have to sell more of my gems to get another one.” He froze when he saw the broken phone on the counter. “Well, at least there's one good thing in all this.”

Bram looked at him, feeling tired. “And that is?”

Tephra pointed at the phone. “You can't criticize me for breaking the phone again.”

# # #

The next morning felt chilly, even through Bram's scroll-granted scales and interior heating. The area in front of the clinic looked oddly empty without the angry protesters of the past few days, despite having several members of the staff lead by Director Swift Aid Apple, along with Princess Ember, Volcano, and Tephra standing there. So were the Secret Service and FBI agents, many of them now in body armor. Two massive bat-winged shadows passed over the ground as Jade and Blaze circled overhead. Nearby stood local reporters with their cameras and microphones to record Branson's moment of triumph.

Bram looked around at the nearby buildings. Most of them were relatively small unlike the local skyscrapers starting half a mile away in the real downtown, but he still wondered which of those dark windows might have someone standing behind them with a rifle. To judge by the way the members of the local news crew looked around nervously, they were thinking the same thing.

Five or six blocks down the street in both directions a crowd stood behind hastily-erected safety barriers and a line of police like the ones he'd seen used on TV for celebrity events. Most of them looked more curious than anything. Only a few bore signs either praising or condemning the clinics. While he couldn't see them from here he knew similar manned barriers were down the side streets as well. Or were supposed to be. He uneasily counted just how many streets and alleys there were leading into one of Allentown's main thoroughfares. He just hoped the Feds and police could watch them all.

“I really don't like this,” Cynthia muttered. She paced back and forth, stopped and looked at Bram. “It feels like I'm waiting for a bomb to go off --" She stopped, shook herself. "At least you don't look like a cartoon character today.”

“Thank you, dear lady,” Bram squeezed her claw. “You look great too. Scales and fangs all polished and everything.” Cynthia sniffed and lightly swatted his leg with her tail.

Bram caught his reflection in the front window of the clinic, hastily repaired from yesterday's fracas. The first dragon scroll wore off last night, its 24-hour limit running out. He'd read the second dragon scroll that morning before leaving Ember's hotel room. He, Tephra, and Cynthia were put in it by the Secret Service after they'd revealed the break-in and the contents of the envelope. His new scales were Prussian blue and purple on his belly, with a slender muzzle and violet eyes. He raised one hand and flexed, barbed claws splaying from his fingertips. He lightly tapped his chest. His claws clicked on the tough scales covering it.

For all the good it might do if someone set off a thousand-pound car bomb.

That made him think back to last night when he'd shared the photos at his house with Agent Kingman and Ember.

“I don't get it,” she'd said, looking at the photos in confusion. They'd gone back to her hotel suite, standing well away from any windows at Agent Kingman's insistence. All save the three adult dragons, who watched through the open double doors leading onto the roof. She held the photo of the ammonium nitrate close to her eye and peered at it, working her way through the words on the bags. Bram idly wondered if she needed a translation spell to read them or if she'd actually taken the time to learn English. “Wait, he wants to try throwing manure at us?” She snickered. “I've heard scarier threats from hatchlings.”

“Fertilizer, ma'am, not 'manure'.” Agent Kingman sounded like he'd long since gotten tired of explaining these things to uncooperative dragons. “Ammonium Nitrate is a highly volatile compound that is harmless on its own...”

“Bah.” Ember tossed the photos away. “Then what's the problem?” She froze when Agent Kingman stepped in front of her. He held up a finger before her eyes. Tephra, Volcano, Blaze and Jade all bristled up. They subsided when she lowered the Bloodstone Scepter in command.

“It's harmless on its own, until it gets combined with a flammable like fuel oil or diesel, at which point the mixture becomes an explosive.” He said it like he was reciting a lesson in school for particularly obtuse students. Bram wondered if that wasn't precisely what he was doing. “It's commonly used in blasting, but it has also been used in several major terrorist attacks on our world, madam. Normally it requires a booster charge to set it off, but in large amounts it can be detonated by a hot enough fire, which means,” he tapped her on the muzzle before turning to look at the other dragons, “if any of you breathe fire into it you might cause an explosion that could level the clinic and most of the surrounding block. Not to mention killing all of you and hundreds of innocent people. Is that clear, ladies and gentlemen? Please say yes.” He gazed at the dragons until they all nodded agreement. Bram thought they looked unconvinced.

“Okay,” Ember folded her arms across her chest. “So what about tomorrow? I need to settle this mess with that human Branson, and he refuses to do to any other way than publicly.”

“I'm afraid she's right, sir.” The clinic lawyer, Horowitz, nodded his bald head. “I've spoken to Mister Branson and he completely refuses to either reschedule or relocate. He says that he's not going to give terrorists what they want.”

Kingman made a sound like a growl. “If he insists on having a crowd of several hundred people standing around in front of the clinic just so he can yell 'I won' in public, he's definitely giving Nod and his friends what they want. A lot of targets.” He sighed and slumped. “But I have my orders to follow, and they are to do what the Dragon Lord wants.”

“And I want this mess to be over.” Ember looked at the widescreen on the wall. “I saw your news. Dragons and people and ponies and more are getting hurt because of,” she snarled, “because of what I said, and what Branson and his friends did.” She nodded at Bram and Cynthia. “Look what happened to their lair. If a dragon can't feel safety in their own lair, and I can stop it by my actions, then I will.” She walked to the couch and sank down in it, looking very tired. “Agent Kingman, can you do something to keep things safe tomorrow? To make sure this crazy human with the fertilizer bomb can't hurt anydragon – I mean anyone?”

“We'll do what we can, Ma'am,” Agent Kingman said before turning to Bram and Cynthia. “As for you two, you better stay here tonight. You've been threatened and you're known associates of her majesty. If the Dragon Lord permits.”

He left the room. Ember watched him go as though she'd been waiting for it. Bram headed for the door, he and Cynthia walking past Ember. He ignored Jade's angry hiss at his disrespect. Nothing would satisfy her.

“Well, we can sleep in the living room. Goodnight, Dragon Lord Ember, all of you –”

“Stop.” Bram kept going. Ember spoke again, her voice sharp. “I said wait.”

He froze as iron clamped down on his body, stopping him in his tracks. A part of him connected to the scroll suddenly awakened. It cried for obedience. Beside him Cynthia also froze, her eyes lit from within.

Both turned and walked back to Ember where she held the Bloodstone Scepter out. It glowed softly. So this is what it felt like to be mind-controlled, Bram thought.

“Ember,” Cynthia growled. “I told you to not do this.”

“Dragon Lord, this is not right!” Bram's snarl joined hers. He saw past her. Confusion broad on the faces of Tephra and Volcano, and on Blaze and Jade's as well. What was Ember doing? “We aren't your subjects!”

“No, you're not.” Ember nodded agreement, her horns framing those crimson eyes. “But you still helped me.” She walked to Bram and Cynthia, raised the Bloodstone Scepter and lightly tapped first her and then him on the muzzle-tip with it. “Here and now, in front of these witnesses,” she indicated Volcano, Tephra, and the other dragons, “I declare that you are under my protection. An attack on you is an attack on me.”

Bram looked at Cynthia. Her muzzle was open and her eyes wide; she was just as surprised as he was. The Trueborns looked shocked.

“I am glad to see that my students have impressed you this much, Dragon Lord,” Volcano lowered his head to her. “I am proud to see that I have served you so well.”

“Dragon Lord, is this wise?” Blaze shot Volcano a cautious look. She scowled at Bram. “They have done little to be worthy of this honor. That one,” she put out one claw and poked him in the chest hard enough to shove him into the wall, “is not even a dragon, and may never become one! Are you saying that Blaze and I are to regard their lives as being as important to us as yours?”

“Yes.” Ember held the scepter high. The gem glowed coldly. Bram saw that glow reflected in the eyes of the other dragons, and within he felt a sort of tugging in his mind towards it himself. “Protect them as you do me. They brought us all warning of what that crazy human plans. I say here and now, their lives are as much to you as mine.” Jade opened her mouth to say something, but fell silent as Ember flew up to look her in the eyes. “Must I repeat myself?”

Jade glanced from her to Bram and Cynthia. “No, Dragon Lord,” she muttered, an ugly gleam in her eyes. “I shall obey.”

“Good.” Ember set a claw on both Bram and Cynthia's shoulders. “Listen. You've been threatened in part because of what I said. I'm not going to pretend I regret it,” a hiss of anger entered her voice, “but I do regret getting you in trouble. Especially after you aided my dragons and me. Rest here tonight. I, I want you there tomorrow when I apologize to Branson and his hatchling.”

“Okay,” Bram wondered what this was about. To judge by Cynthia's appearance, her scaly crest lowering and golden eyes widening, she felt just as much confusion. “May we know why?”

Ember stepped back, folded her arms and took a deep breath. “Because if you and Volcano are there, I can tell myself I'm apologizing to you three and not, ugh, him.” She walked over to the counter where some ordered coffee was sitting. Apparently Volcano wasn't the only dragon corrupted by the bean. She took a deep swig. “It will make this easier for me. So be there.” She worked her muzzle as though the next word came hard. “Please.”

Bram looked from her to Cynthia. He could recognize the look on her face. “Yes.”

And that led us to here, Bram thought, and to maybe getting shot or blown to bits if a lunatic decides we need to die so he can see his name in the papers. He looked up and down the street again. No crazy people running down the street holding a bomb and yelling 'Kill the monsters'. That's a good thing.

He walked over to Ember. Her scales and armor both gleamed from the polishing they'd gotten earlier. She held the Bloodstone Scepter and wore a fearsome spiked and fanged helmet and looked ready for a fight. Bram wondered if she'd changed her mind. Dragons were proud beings, the Dragon Lord not least among them. Tephra stood nearby as her attendant, looking very grave and serious, especially for him. He held a folded white cloth in his hands and kept close by.

Meanwhile Agent Kingman spoke into his phone. He wore his suit but Bram could catch the bulge of body armor beneath. A faint sourness to his scent said 'worry' to Bram's temporary enhanced senses. “The limo's there? No one else with it? Good. Show them through and get that barrier shut up again. You check them out. We'll clear them again down here.” Agent Kingman set it down and noticed him. “Keep clear,” he said, motioning him back. “We need to check Branson out.”

“He doesn't seem the type to blow himself up,” Bram muttered as he stepped back.

Agent Kingman gave him a scornful look.

“After fifteen years in the Secret Service, I can honestly say you never know how crazy someone can get when they think they've got nothing left to lose.” He hurried over to the approaching limousine. It was large and a stately gray and it looked to Bram like someone's cut-down fishing boat turned into a car. He glanced around again. Volcano watched closely as it pulled to a stop, his toeclaws lightly scratching at the asphalt. His eyes narrowed slightly as Branson Jr. got out of the car, wearing a suit that looked both expensive and brand new. He noticed Bram and Cynthia watching and smirked. He started to walk in their direction, but stopped when a pair of agents made him halt. They quickly checked him out, even waving some sort of electronic wand over him before letting him go. As they turned to the other people in the car, a driver, an escort, and Branson senior, he walked over to Bram and Cynthia. The disgusted scowl on his face turned to a nasty leer.

He spoke in a voice soft enough to be heard only by them, “Hey, how's the house? Need any work? I hear those old places can be hard to keep up.” His smile hit shit-eating grin levels. “Must look like a mob trashed it, sometimes.”

“If I could prove what I suspect I'd be giving those cameras a show they'd never forget,” Cynthia said, the soft words barely covering her boiling fury. Branson Jr. just laughed as though they'd shared a joke and strolled over to his father. He wore a suit slightly less new than his son's but that looked to be made of even finer fabric. Two of the husky fellows from the other day stood close by, each with a Secret Service agent beside him.

“Well, here we are.” Mister Branson nodded to the cameras, with just enough of a smile to make it obvious that he'd won but not like he gloated. Ember drew herself up proudly. Branson turned and waved to the crowd down the street. “Today, we get some answers!”

“What?” Bram said, and “What?” Ember echoed him.

“You said you were coming here for my apology,” Ember half growled the words. “You said nothing about 'getting answers'. To what?”

Branson Senior drew himself up like a boxer about to deliver a winning punch. Bram felt sickly sure what was about to follow.

“To the reality of the List,” Branson Senior said, raising his voice so that it echoed against the glass and steel walls of the buildings. Ember stared in shock and so did the Clinic staff. “To what's being done with the Cure. Did you honestly think I'd let you creatures continue to prey on the despair and misery of humanity's most vulnerable?”

Cheers echoed down the street from the crowd. Bram could see the police down there holding their hands out to keep everyone back. They were the only ones happy. He wondered if Branson had lost his mind. He'd not just deceived Ember; he'd insulted her by publicly accusing her of treachery. His son looked pleased at his father's audacity. Bram glanced at Tephra and Volcano. A faint wisp of black smoke trickled from their nostrils. It thickened as he watched.

Ember looked poleaxed. This was the last thing she'd expected.

“There is no List! Not on our side of the Veil! And there is no hidden cure being offered to the wealthy of your species! That's not why any of us are here!” She fell back a step and waved her claws. “I came here to apologize as you asked,” she snarled the last, “and this is what you do?”

“It's amazing how I'm being asked to keep good faith,” the elder Branson stepped back, putting a hand to his chest in a pose of deeply pained remorse, “by one of the beings working to wipe humanity out of existence.” Ember's crimson eyes blazed as he added, “An apology to me for what minor injuries done to my son --”

“Not all that minor,” the boy grumbled. “My clothes were ruined and I spent a night in jail!”

“Shut up,” his father hissed back. Branson Junior pouted but did so as his father said, going back to his 'noble hero' act, “An apology hardly compensates for what's being done to my species as a whole –”

Cynthia growled, smoke flowing freely from her nostrils now. Tephra's eyes narrowed and the white cloth twisted in his claws. Even Volcano looked angered, long tail lashing over the asphalt. Bram cast an eye at the crowd. The Conversion Bureau's supporters, human and otherwise, looked to be getting ready for trouble. The clinic's opposition were cheering.

“Lady Ember,” Bram moved to her side. Branson senior looked at him in annoyance. Bram forced himself to ignore his mounting desire to kick this idiot in the pants. “Mister Branson. You came here to accept an apology. You promised as much. Before anything else is said, that is what needs to be done. That is what we came to do.”

Branson looked from him to Agent Kingman. He simply said, “It would be for the best if this business was completed swiftly, sir. Before someone might try something.”

Bram envied the way the agent could put such a tone of polite menace in his voice. Branson Senior looked from the agent to him to Ember. She stood proudly, temper back under control, fangs sheathed and tail held still.

“Hurry this up,” Ember's voice was cold.

“Okay, lizard,” Branson Senior said just under his breath before turning to the cameramen. “I'm here to accept a well-owed and long-due apology. You may proceed, madam.” He waved one hand at nodded at Ember with a sort of regal disdain that said clearly he didn't value her apology or believe it to be sincere, but he would force himself to be polite and accept his due.

Bram could feel the rising heat coming off of Ember in her fury. However, she merely nodded. She handed the Bloodstone Scepter to Tephra, setting it in his cloth-covered claws. Bram remembered what Volcano once told him, how no dragon but the Dragon Lord could touch the scepter with their bare scales unless they wanted to challenge for rulership. Ember walked up to the Bransons, senior and elder. Volcano moved closer as well, slowly, keeping his long neck arched and head held high. Older dragons might not be able to move quickly on only two legs, but they could at least try to be dignified.

The Bransons looked uneasy as the two dragons, one of them over twenty feet long and both eyeing them coldly, came closer. Ember and Volcano stopped before them. Cameras flashed both nearby and down the street as Ember drew herself up and dropped to her knees before the Bransons, braced on one clawed hand. Beside her Volcano followed suit.

Past them Bram saw Tephra keeping back, holding the sacred scepter away from this scene like he didn't want it defiled by the Bransons' presence. Beyond him stood the clinic staff. Some of them watched in fascination. Many more, Swift Aid Apple among them, looked embarrassed as they watched Ember's humiliation.

“I am Dragon Lord Ember,” Ember bowed her head, voice clear and echoing off the glass and brick facades up and down the street. “Daughter of Dragon Lord Torch, ally to the Princesses of Sun and Moon, ruler and representative of all dragonkind. In the name of my people I apologize to the human known as Anthony Branson the Younger,” she nodded towards the kid, who looked smugly self-satisfied, “and to his sire Anthony Branson the Elder, for what insults I have offered in word and deed and that have been offered by my chosen, Volcano son of Magma, to them both. I do this as the Dragon Lord, to keep the peace between dragonkind and Branson and his kin. I apologize for my insults to them, which were unwarranted,” she coughed or choked briefly. “I am Ember. I have offended. I apologize.” Having repeated her apology three times, as dragon etiquette required, Ember rose to her feet. Volcano followed suit, looking as unimpressed as ever. “I trust we are finished.” She turned away, reaching for the scepter.

Branson senior took her by the shoulder. She froze, claws splaying. The Secret Service and FBI men stiffened like they expected violence. Low angry hisses came from Tephra and Volcano.

“We're not quite done yet, scaly,” Branson somehow managed the muttered insult while keeping a warm and forgiving smile on his face. He turned to face the cameras, holding Ember's claw in his hand in a very obvious oh-look-we're-all-friends-now posture. His son stepped up to her other side. Bram caught how Ember stiffened as he set his arm around her back, low enough to be impolite without being obvious about it. This was too much. He didn't even know he stepped forward until he felt Cynthia's claw seize his wrist to hold him back. Judging by his scowl, Agent Kingman looked as disgusted as Ember must be feeling.

“Now smile and wave for the cameras,” Branson smiled as he spoke, or more like bared his teeth. “Or shall I rethink dropping that lawsuit?”

A slow smile crept over Ember's muzzle. She ground her fangs like she would have preferred to take a bite out of Branson's heart. She gave one single weak wave. Swift Aid Apple's mouth twisted in disgust. Fires burned deep down in Volcano's eyes.

“Now then,” Branson said as he stepped away and out of range. “All that's done. Done here, anyway,” he began to raise his voice for the news crews. He waved to the limo driver, and the driver got in and started his car. Down the street the police began putting the barriers aside to let it out. Branson and son headed for the car. He raised a fist in defiance, a polite finger erect, saying, “But I promise to never cease fighting to uncover the truth behind both the List and the Cure, and –”

And just down the street, beyond the barrier, a van put together from makeshift parts came roaring around the corner and headed straight through the opening as humans and converts alike screamed and scattered. The police dove for cover as it flew through. One officer didn't move fast enough. The van clipped him. He went rolling over the concrete sidewalk and lay still.

Everything started to happen at once. The agents in their suits and more people from the crowd, including two with protester's signs, ran forward to try and get between Ember and the onrushing van. Guns appeared in their hands as they did, mostly pistols but two looked to have those fancy German submachine guns. Swift Aid waved at her staff and pointed at the clinic and yelled, “No questions, get in NOW!”

As she did a pair of the uniformed unicorns among the staff lit their horns and set a light green barrier between them and the rest of the street. They worked it to cover as many of the nearby humans as possible. Bram remembered seeing on TV the shields a powerful unicorn could raise. These looked like a stiff bath curtain by comparison. Volcano and Tephra surged forward in a flurry of wings and scales. “Lady Ember! Behind us!” Ember and Branson senior both looked like they'd been poleaxed. His son shrieked and raced down the street like an Olympic hopeful. He tripped, rolled into some trash bags, rose and ran even faster with egg shells and fruit rinds dripping fro his nice suit. The news crews turned pale as ashes.

“Bram, come on!” Cynthia yanked at his arm. He stood frozen. She growled and flew towards Ember. Come on and do what, he thought, jump in the line of fire?

His eyes widened as the van came closer. Bullets were hitting it to no effect. It kept coming.

Another three seconds and they'd all be blasted into a dissolving crimson cloud.

Then when the van was less then twenty feet away Jade dropped her entire two or three tons of adult dragon out of the sky on it.

The whole street shook. The boom of her impact almost drowned the high-pitched screech of crushing metal as she hammered the everything of the van behind the driver and passenger's compartment into the asphalt. Jade hopped off with a look of savage satisfaction as the armed agents ran forward.

“Get away from the van, now!” Jade snarled at the agents as they shouted the order. “Dragon, move! They may have a bomb in there!”

“Jade!” Ember called from where she stood, with Agents Kingman and Garcia nearby. Bram wondered why she was still on the ground. He imagined they must have told her to stay down. Of course, if this is a trick, she flies, and a sniper's waiting. Cynthia hovered above her as Ember yelled, “Jade, get away from it! The humans need to get the driver of that auto-wagon out!”

Jade sniffed loudly. She took hold of the front of the van's front, claws sinking into the metal. With a shrug she tore it away. Familiar faces were revealed. Winky and Blinky looked stunned. Bram wondered if it was the crash, the dragon, or the half a dozen agents pointing guns at them that left them looking so foolish.

“Do not move!” The agents dragged the two men out, shoved them to the ground and all but sat on them. “If you try anything else, we will shoot you, so stay still!” They looked up and around, wide-eyed and confused. Jade hissed, letting a trickle of greenish flame come from her mouth. They shivered and went still.

Everyone was watching the excitement down the street. The news crews were trying to get close enough to get a few shots, the agents and police were either aiding the injured or keeping everyone else at bay, the citizens were watching from a distance with some trying to get cell phone pictures, and Jade looked annoyed with the whole thing. Bram noticed Cynthia dropping to the street nearby. Ember was reclaiming the Scepter from Tephra, and the Bransons looked like they wanted to leave but didn't dare move. He seemed to be the only person who'd stayed where they were supposed to.

Am I that brave, he wondered, or just that slow to react?

He looked over at the clinic and the shield spell just in time to see Nod dash from the alley he'd used right next door and rush at Ember and the Bransons. He must have worked his way down the back alleys leading to the clinic as the lunacy with the van happened.

Nod held something in one hand and wore an open jacket with a thing like a bandoleer underneath of gray plastic cord. His face bore a look of what Bram could only describe as transcendent joy.

“Demon woman! You too, you lawyer bloodsucker!” Ember and Branson began turning as Nod raised the hand clutching the detonator. Agent Kingman's eyes went wide. He dragged at something in a shoulder holster as Nod yelled, “I'm taking out the reptoid queen and one of their flunkies, I'm a hero –”

Bram didn't think. He reacted. He rushed over, grabbed the hand with the detonator in his scaly claw and squeezed.

Nod dropped to his knees with a sudden shrill whinny of pain. Bram snatched the bandoleer and tore it from him, the plastic cords snapping like string.

“Detcord!” Agent Kingman yelled. He and Garcia were rushing Ember away as fast as they could. Or trying; she resisted until Volcano snatched her up. Together with Tephra, holding the scepter once again, they flew down the street. Kingman yelled back. “Get away! Suicide jacket! It's rigged to blow!”

“What?” Bram looked at Nod, on his knees and sobbing in pain, his shattered hand still firmly in his grip and then at the jacket in the other claw. Somehow Nod still held the the detonator in the same hand Bram was clutching. His grip was holding the trigger down.

Cynthia charged Nod. She yanked him away from Bram, grabbing and holding him. Nod tried to work the detonator but his shattered hand wouldn't cooperate. A moment later Agent Kingman joined her, forcing Nod down to the pavement. He clawed at the detonator. Nod somehow found the strength to play keep away with it.

Bram held up the explosive-laced jacket. “What, what do I do with this?”

Cynthia and Agent Kingman both yelled at once, “Get rid of it!”

Bram crouched and leaped. Wings spread out wide, caught the air and beat powerfully. He flew skywards, fast and hard. The facades of the buildings flashed by as he raced for altitude, then the rooftops of Allentown, and then blue sky all around him. And all the while thinking, Oh Lord Oh Lord, this thing is going to go off Cynthia or whoever is going to lose their grip on the idiot Nod and he'll hit the switch and I have to get this away from everyone or we'll all die.

A thunderous voice whipcracked against his ears.

“Bram! Whatever your name is!”

Blaze flew before him. He pointed at the jacket. "What is that thing?"

"Bomb!' Bram yelled. Blaze's eyes went wide.

“Toss it as far as you can! I'll burn it!”

Bram wadded the jacket into a ball and it a mighty heave to send it flying overhead.

Blaze inhaled deeply and sent a stream of white-hot fire after it. It struck the jacket and – set it on fire. Nothing else. No big bang, no fireworks, just a burning old jacket with some plastic cording inside.

Blaze flew between Bram and the burning jacket as it tumbled back down. He snapped at him. “You said it was a bomb! That it would blow up!”

“Wait, detcord,” Bram slapped a claw against his forehead. He explained to Blaze, “It needs an electric charge or it won't explode. Sorry I made that mistake –”

From far down below: “Hah!”

Blaze was suddenly outlined in white light and with a crash of the loudest thunder Bram ever heard came slamming against him.

For a confused second everything was a tumbling mess of a raging Blaze and a stunned Bram that ended with an almighty crunching of metal and a high-pitched shriek of, “My limo!”

Bram's head was spinning. Blaze lay half atop him. Bram realized that until then he'd only thought he knew how heavy dragons could get. Teens like Cynthia were lightweights. Adult dragons, even young ones like Blaze, were much, much heavier. On the other hand a crushed auto body made a surprisingly comfortable bed when you were a dragon yourself. Nearby people were yelling. Some of them sounded familiar. Out of the corner of one eye he caught sight of Branson senior getting up off the street, the driver beside him. Oh, wait, they'd jumped out of their limo, right? He didn't care.

“Blaze?” He wished his voice sounded stronger. Blaze just gave a deep groan. He gave him a poke with one claw. “Blaze, you can get up and off of me now.”

“Bram!” Several people seemed to be yelling that at once. When did he become so popular? Wait, something just recently happened, didn't it? He wished he could remember what it was. Must have been big. Why was his head ringing? A gold and black scaled dragon head came into his line of sight. “Bram! Are you alive?”

“I dunno,” he told Cynthia. “Am I?” He moved several limbs experimentally, both the usual arms and legs and the new ones like wings and tail. When did he get those? They all felt sore. Cynthia looked at him, her eyes wide with worry. Tephra and Volcano joined her, with Volcano helping Blaze to rise. Blaze shook his head slowly, like he feared it would fall off. Bram sympathized with him. “Looks that way. Am I wrong or did something just happen?”

“Yeah. Something just happened.” Cynthia slumped and sighed, like she always did when she was upset with him. She wanted to know if I was alright, and now she's mad that I am. Women. She looked off to the side. “I think he's concussed.”

“We can handle that,” a pony voice said. Swift Aid Apple stepped into view, with one of the clinic medics, a unicorn. “Don't worry, Cynthia, your highness,” Bram lifted his head and saw Ember standing nearby, Jade with her. Past them both he saw Nod and his two battered friends being put into a police van and Branson Senior on his cell phone and raging about something. Swift Aid said, “He'll be alright. This we know how to handle.”

“Good,” Agent Kingman said darkly as he came up and bent over Bram. “Because, Mister Siegfried? We are going to be talking about how much trouble you can get in for rushing into the middle of an assassination attempt and interfering with federal agents in the course of their duties.”

The unicorn was casting their spell, and the pain was leaving his head. Bram figured that was a good time to pass out. So he did, thinking, wait, didn't I just do this a few weeks ago? I'm getting into a rut.

# # #

Cynthia and Tephra looked up as the once-again-human Bram walked back into his house. They'd stayed there partly as guards against any further vandalism, and partly because somehow the earlier damage to the widescreen had avoided the DVD player. After a quick trip to first a jeweler and then to an electronics shop, Tephra had his toy back. Watching movies left them with something to do while he was at the local FBI office.

“Well?” Tephra grinned, fang-tips showing. “You were rewarded by them for what you did, yes? That Agent Kingman was happy with us for helping to save the Dragon Lord and everyone else?”

“Happy!” Bram laughed, short and sharp. He walked into the kitchen and returned with a soda in his hands. “I was told I could consider myself lucky not to be in a jail cell right now, and maybe you as well. We interfered with federal agents in the course of their duties and very nearly got a foreign head of state assassinated in the process. If not for the fact that Ember demanded we not be punished – and what we were seen doing on the news; thank heavens they called me 'some anonymous dragon', I don't need any more publicity,” he took a long drink, “we'd probably be waiting for the Veil to arrive in a cell at Allenwood! That's the state prison,” he explained to the confused Tephra. “Well, I guess I would. They only take males there and Tephra would just be deported.”

“Bram!” Cynthia turned the movie off. As Tephra yelped his annoyance she said, “You're woolgathering. Again. Just how much trouble are we in?”

“Not very much.” Cynthia sank back into her beanbag chair in relief. Tephra looked almost disappointed, like he wanted a fight with Uncle Sam. Bram shook his head. “I got officially reprimanded and warned that next time I'd be in real trouble. I assured Agent Kingman and Dragon Lord Ember I didn't want there to be a next time. That lead to Blaze and Jade demanding if I didn't think 'my' Dragon Lord was worth defending.” He leaned back against the wall where once a bookshelf stood. The place was mostly repaired, but the books and pictures were gone forever. The place felt empty without them. “I was finally told to just leave and stay out of the Service's way from now on.”

“What about those three lunatics?” Tephra hissed the words. “Were they set free?”

"And why didn't they use the nitrate for a bomb?" Cynthia asked.

“Winky, Blinky, and Nod? They're going to prison for a very long time.” Bram nodded. “I was told they were ranting about me and Cynthia being treacherous sell-outs and how disgusting it was that we sold out humanity just because were were getting loads of sex from immoral Equestrian monsters.” Cynthia frowned, showing fang. Tephra snorted a quick laugh. “As for the nitrate, apparently they were cheated. Or Nod wasn't as good at explosives as he thought. He could manage the detcord, they stole that from some construction site. Oh, and Branson dropped the lawsuit against the Clinics and Volcano. We're not getting sued for Blaze and me crashing into and wrecking his limousine when the bomb went off, either. Apparently his promise to do so was caught by some of the sound men with the news crews and broadcast. Plus there was that whole us saving everyone's lives from the Three Stooges shown on the regional news.”

“I saw it,” Tephra said, looking proud. “They ran it right after that story about the actor who turned pony and tried to make a herd with his wife and ex-wife and mistress. Oh, and that sports story about how baseball is going to let converts play but football won't because we'd hurt the players when we knock them down.”

“My, we must be important,” Bram finished the soda in his hand. “Anyway, this whole mess seems to be over. I think we can rest a while. I hope.” The phone rang. He froze. He waved one hand vaguely in its direction. “Could one of you get that, please? I'm just not in a mood to speak to anyone else right now.”

Cynthia sighed and got it. “Hello? Miss Apple? Is something else wrong with the Clinic – no? Thank heavens!” Bram leaned back against the wall, looking relieved. “Oh, you got called by the Griffonstone embassy in DC, their new leader Queen Gilda was interested in visiting the New Griflets in this area. And Ember told her how well Bram and we did with keeping her safe. So she wants us for local guides,” Bram wildly shook his hands 'no' as Cynthia listened. “Next week? Isn't that when the Shield of Man group is holding their big local rally in Allentown? You know, that HLF splinter group that Miss Gilda called 'a bunch of dweeb cowards' last week in that TV interview. Oh, the Clinic is already hiring more security for the event, but if we were there it might be more impressive.” She winced as something thudded to the floor behind her. “Yes, Miss Apple, I'll ask Bram to get ready for it just as soon as I can wake him up.”

Comments

[redmar]

Bram just can't get a break it seems. I think that Gilda really doesn't understand the severity of the situation if she wants to visit at the same time as a rally of people who hate all non-humans.

[Vaalintine]

Everything turned out good for them then, though Ember could turn this whole thing into a big PR win. Given the public saw "her dragons" stop a terrorist attack.

Also seriously Bram, put yourself on the list ti become a goddamn dragon already! Even if its not going to happen anytime soon making sure they'll have a potion for you is something you're going to need to do. Really at this point him turning into something other than a dragon would be a dissapointment.

[Ardashir]

9699318
I'm almost sure he'll become a dragon in the end. Say 90+%? At least by now I can't see him becoming anything else without something going very wrong.

[s1]

9699587

“I didn't use my beak or talons until I heard Mewsette yowl and saw her on the ground clutching her arm.” His face darkened. “After that, buck that scat. I started clawing.”

It seems that maybe Granch and Mewsette are more then just friends due to his reaction of Mewsette getting hurt. Maybe that might be something in the next chapter.

Nice story man. You're planning to do more stories that take in the TCB: Not Just Ponies universe?

[Ardashir]

9726668
I'm pretty sure I will, though I can't promise it.

[s1]

9728682
Maybe something involving the Yaks or the Gargoyles like Scorpan and his mother, Queen Heydon. Or maybe a story of the Students Six visiting Earth as a class field trip.

[Ardashir]

9733545
I think most of the Student Six are near-adult by this point; I'm working on the idea that these events are happening a few years after the show ended. They're probably already working with the Clinics on Earth simply because they're some of the few non-ponies with experience dealing with other species.