Disclaimer: I don't own American Dragon: Jake Long or Killer7. They are property of Disney and Capcom.
Midnight and a full moon were upon the city of New York, where most of the people would not be sleeping well tonight. Not surprising since Hell was practically on Earth, where the peaceful night air had been shattered with almost a dozen gunshots which had surprising echoed around the entire city, and had left the Hilton in a storm of blood and carnage. Every emergency unit was en-route to the hotel; having been called by almost a hundred people that had been living around the hotel.
The fiery coloured dragon with blackish hair felt every muscle in it's being tense up as it stood there on the roof of the hotel. The bright, full moon appeared to shine down exclusively upon it, as well as the stars, as it held what appeared to be a golden-coloured revolver in his left hand, and it's face and scales were covered in bright, red arterial blood. It stood there, on the middle of the roof, realising that he couldn't move due to fear.
"No…"
It's face was that of pure shock, where it's eyes were wide as saucers. It slowly looked down at the gun it held protectively in it's hands, where it then dropped it and it slowly cluttered onto the ground, before it looked at it's blood-covered hands, which it couldn't figure if any of this was real or if it had really lost it's mind. For a second it couldn't breath and begun to gasp in panic.
The tears then began to flow freely from it's eyes, as it felt both devastation and sadness well up inside of it. It covered his face with it's sharp blood-stained claws as it fell to his knees, trying to comprehend what it had just experienced half-an-hour ago. And what it had just did. It's glowing blood red eyes slowly transformed back into their normal black-coloured eyes as it felt the insanity and bloodlust fade away from it.
"No…no," it said, "What…what have I done?"
He looked back down at the gun, which lay before him, where it reached forward and picked it back up, observing it softly. It ran it's claws over it, as if studying it through touch. It then looked up at the sky and screamed distressfully, where it was possible that the whole city could have heard…which it did.
"MASTER HARMAN!!!!"
And with that it placed the barrel of the revolver to his forehead, tears rolling down it's cheeks from his darkened eyes. He held his breath and prevented any more tears from falling, awaiting it's descent to the grave.
It then closed it's eyes and pulled the trigger…
American Dragon: God Killer
Prologue – The Huntsgirl And The Cleaner
--- THIRTY YEARS LATER ---
Laughter is the countdown to devastation…The night air felt cold to the thirteen year old girl as she huddled in the alleyway, wrapped in a coat and was rubbing her hands together in a futile effort to keep warm. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to keep them open, her bright blues becoming heavy underneath her hood.
RoseRose felt like she was going to cry. For almost a week she had been on the run from the Huntsclan, her own family; and it's Huntsmaster, her own uncle; who were all out for her blood. All because she spared the life of her crush, who had just happened to be the least likely creature in the entire world.
'Jake,' she thought, 'How could you be the American Dragon? Why did he have to be you?'
--- A WEEK AGO ---
"ROSE!"
She tried to hold back the tears as she ran into the forest away from the massive clearing, and from Jake, the thirteen year old Chinese-American boy, who was calling out her name in vain just after she had just cut his binds.
"Jake, I'm sorry," she sobbed quietly, dropping her staff as she leapt over a fallen tree, followed by a large rock, where she then crouched behind it.
From there, she tried to get her bearings back, as well as recapping the situation. She had the American Dragon right where she wanted him. She was about to move in for the kill when he called her name, then asked to her look at his human face.
Then he transformed…into him. Jake Long: her prom date and her crush. After a few moments of hesitation, she charged forward, only to cut his binds, turn tail then run.
That was Jake. The American Dragon is Jake. It could not be any clearer than that.
'No, that couldn't have been him,' she thought, alarmed.
The tears flowed freely now, with so much reality pounding her like a flood. She had no idea that her destiny to slay the dragon would also involve killing her crush. She ran her hand through her head, distraught.
'Get a grip on yourself,' the warrior side of her thought, trying to push back the feelings of regret, devastation and sadness, 'You're the Huntsgirl! That was the American Dragon! You were supposed to have slain him!'
The frown disappeared and she covered her face with her hands, where she cried silently into it. She was more or less cracked.
"He can't be the American Dragon," she cried, "He can't be."
"But he is!"
Rose's eyes shot open in fright upon hearing her uncle's words. She span around to see him standing some feet away, his staff in one hand and his other clenching and unclenching in anger. His eyes reflected his fury.
"M…master?" she began, where she stammered, "What…?"
The Huntsman
"How could you do this to me, Huntsgirl?" he said, albeit softly.
Each word tore at Rose's spirit, hearing her uncle talk to vainly. It was what he blurted out next that shattered her completely.
"You just betrayed the Huntslcan. YOU JUST BETRAYED YOUR OWN FAMILY!"
His shout scared every bird and woodland animal in the forest, which were all deemed not worthy of the hunt, with the Huntsclan preferring magical creatures over the deadliest bear or wolf. Each word cut through Rose like a sword.
"F…forgive me, Huntsmaster,' Rose cried, "But he's…"
"He is our enemy!" the Huntman exclaimed, "That boy was our enemy and you just let him go, damn it!"
He then stepped forward towards her, clutching his staff.
"I never I would ever do this Huntsgirl, seeing as you are but more or less left of my family, you must die are traitor's death."
Now Rose was frightened, as she stepped backwards, trying to avoid her own uncle.
"What?"
He glared, "Our law dictates the culling of those unworthy of the hunt. And you are unworthy!"
The Huntsman then swung his staff at Rose, who ducked to avoid his blow. Without thinking she fought back with a punch to the gut which caused him to drop his staff. Taking advantage of his incapacitation, Rose then performed a spin kick, which sent him falling onto the ground.
"HUNTSGIRL!" he cried out in pain, before getting up.
He fired off a shot at her, where she dodged and charged, letting out a cry of might and delivering another kick, this time to his head, where she sent him face first into the dirt. He slowly raised his head from the mud, spitting out blood and a molar.
The Huntsman then looked up at her from the ground, seeing her look back apologetically. She then turned and ran deeper into the forest, the Huntsman watching her go. His face softened at seeing his niece run for her life from him, but he then glared in rage.
"YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER!" he yelled out, "I WILL FIND YOU, WHETHER YOU WILL HIDE!"
--- NOW ---
Everything after that was more or less a blur. The Huntsclan had pursued her all over the city, where they had her limping from one hiding place to another. And now she was exhausted and they were closing in on her, she could feel her will to live leave her slowly. Her fear crept into her gut, causing her to go cold all over.
If she could just find someone to help her…anyone at all…
'No!'
She then shook her head and brought her hands up to her face.
'No, he wouldn't,' she thought, distressed beyond belief, 'He knows who I am, and I had been trying to kill him. He'd hate me now…'
She didn't finish that thought, when she felt a stun shot hit her in the side, sending her falling onto the alley floor, and to that place where there is no pain nor thought; which is better known as unconsciousness.
When she came to minutes later, she found herself lying on her pack in a large puddle, and that five Huntsmembers stood around her, staffs ready.
'They found me,' she thought, 'No.'
"She's awake," she heard on of them call out to someone off-screen, "SHE'S AWAKE!"
"About time," a rough-sounding voice echoed, "Get her on her feet!"
Rose felt strong arms lift her up by her shoulders and pushed painfully against the wall, where she was then turned around to face her former clan-mates, where another stepped out of the shadows, his huntstaff slung over his shoulders. His hood was down, revealing his blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and his grimace.
"Here she is," he begun, "The fallen one. You know what we have to do, Huntsgirl."
She shook her head, immediately recognising whom this guy was. It was Beak, one of the Honour Guard, the elite and deadliest of all the entire Huntsclan.
"No! You can't. My uncle…"
"You're uncle sent us to kill you," Beak reminded her, "You should know that. Know what happens to traitors. There's nowhere to run…"
He then looked at her, almost sympathetically.
"…so accept your fate like the Huntsgirl should."
Now Rose was starting to get angry, with her being called a traitor in every sentence her clan-mates said. She glared; her tired blue eyes turned to those of anger.
"How was I suppose to know that he was a friend?" Rose exclaimed, "You have no right to call me a traitor."
Beak sighed and shook his head, almost sadly. The other Huntsmembers heads also dulled with slight regret. Rose's eyes widened at this.
"We know you're not a traitor," he confessed softly, "But we don't wanna get on the bad side of the Huntsmaster. You know what's he like when he get angry."
Rose unfortunately knew. He could practically destroy anything that bleeds when his rage consumes him. She saw this when he slew the dragon whose skull he wore on his head nowadays, and was his prized trophy.
Beak gripped his staff and aimed it at her.
"Don't blame us, girl," he said, before charging up his staff, "This is jus' tradition."
Rose closed her eyes, preparing for oblivion to overtake her, but it never did as they all heard the clearing off a throat.
"Huh?" Beak uttered as he retracted his staff and spun around, as did the other Huntsmembers.
They all turned towards the entrance into the alley, where they saw someone covered in the shadow from the buildings. He was thin, tall and appeared to be carrying a suitcase in his left hand. They saw him brush his suit.
"Who is that?" Beak demanded, "Show yourself."
"You men should be ashamed of yourselves," the figure spoke in a deep voice, "Preying on a defenceless young girl."
The figure stepped out into view, revealing a tall African-American man dressed in a white suit, purple undershirt, topped off with a yellow tie. He had both a beard and a moustache; and he was frowning at the Huntsmembers as they had Rose as their hostage.
"You should pick on somebody your own size," the stranger added.
"Hey, clear off," Beak hissed at him, "Private business here."
The man narrowed his eyes, "I think not."
The Huntsmembers' eyes all widened, seeing this stranger take a stand against them. Beak gripped his staff, glaring.
"You think not, eh?" Beak asked, before smiling devilishly, "Your funeral, suit-man!"
He then cried out and charged at the stranger, where he swung his staff towards his head. The stranger then unexpectedly grabbed the end of the staff with his free hand, eliciting gasps from the surprised Huntsmembers, but Rose was silent.
"HEY!" Beak cried out.
'Who is this guy?' Rose thought, seeing what just took place, which really made her stare in awe.
The stranger smirked, before dropping his suitcase and pulling out are silenced handgun, where he aimed it at Beak's chest and fired. The Huntsmember felt the bullet tear through his ribcage, through his left lung and out through his back, before he gave a small hiccup, before falling backwards, dropping his staff.
The Huntsmembers stared in horror at what just happened. For the very first time in history, a Huntsmember had died from a gunshot wound, which is the most unlikely death for those of the Huntsclan.
"He just shot Beak!" another one of them cried out, before yelling in anger, "KILL HIM!"
Rose watched as the five other Huntsmembers charged at the stranger. One swung his staff at him, and in return received a mighty kick to the jaw, sending him falling to the ground. The stranger, swerving his head to avoid a punch, aimed his handgun at the legs of the next attacking Huntsmember's and fired.
The Huntsmember cried out in agony as he fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. The three remaining Huntsmember backed off; seeing that the stranger had his gun trained on him and wouldn't hesitate to plug them.
"Whose next?" he asked.
The Huntsmembers put their arms up. One of which helped the disabled Huntsmember up on his feet.
"Please," one of them pleaded, "Don't shoot us. We surrender!"
The Huntsmember who had just got nailed in the face picked himself up, hand over his jaw and moaning painfully.
"I know you who you bastards are," the stranger said, "You better think twice about trying to assault a child."
"Let us think," one of the Huntsmember's pondered in a humorous manner, "How about…NO!"
The stranger heard a battle cry come from behind him and ducked, just missing a staff from another Huntsmember that snuck up on him. He grabbed his suitcase and swung it directly at the Huntsmember's crutch…
"GAHHHHHH!"
…where he fell painfully on the ground, hands over his crushed genitals. The remaining Huntsmembers prepared to attack, only to feel Rose's foot collide with each of their faces with a single jump kick, which sent them falling onto the puddle face first, soaking their uniforms. She then kicked their staffs away, which earned her a sympathetic look from the stranger.
One of the Huntsmember's turned over onto his back, where he instantly felt the stranger's foot against his chest.
"OW!"
He then saw the silenced handgun trained on his head, where he then whimpered in fear.
"Sure you don't want to reconsider?" the stranger asked, frowning down at him.
The Huntsmember nodded, pulling back his hood to reveal his bald head, with his Dragon birthmark on his forehead. Rose saw the stranger pulled out an envelope and drop on the Huntsmember's, whom she recognised as Reilly, chest.
"You…you killed Beak," Reilly said, tears welling in his eyes, "He was my oldest clan-mate."
"I'm not a murderer," the stranger said, "I'm a Cleaner. I only kill people I consider to be filth. And you people…
He took his foot off Reilly.
"…are filth."
Reilly then scrambled onto his feet and ran like hell past him and onto the streets, followed by the other Huntsmembers, including the one who had his balls kicked in, who were all scared like hell, leaving Beak's bleeding corpse in the alleyway.
The stranger saw them run off with a look of satisfaction, before turning to Rose, who then backed herself against the wall, feeling her fear creep back inside of her. The stranger smiled kindly at her, extending his hand forward
"It's alright," he said, "Those guys won't hurt you any more."
Rose looked at him incredulous, before reaching forward and grasping his hand, where she shook it gently. She then smiled lightly.
"Thank you," she said, "I…I don't know how to…"
"Just tell me what you're doing out here at this time of night," the stranger asked, "That all I ask as repayment."
Rose's eyes widened, with this guy taking an interest in her.
"I…was hiding from those people," she explained, "They were trying to kill me."
"Why?"
"I don't know," Rose lied, much to her regret.
The stranger could sense that, but saw no sense pushing the subject. Her eyes then widened.
"LOOK OUT!"
The stranger spun around and aimed his gun at Reilly's forward, where he and his comrades unexpectedly came back. Reilly's hands were up slowly.
The stranger frowned, "Haven't you learned your lesson to leave innocent people alone?"
Reilly froze, just witnessing this guy's quick reflexes. He nodded nervously, "Y…yeah!"
They then stepped back slowly, before running away again, this time not wanting to return. The stranger sighed.
"Damn Huntsclan," he muttered, before turning to Rose, "What's your name?"
"Rose," she replied.
"Rose, huh?" the stranger said, smiling once again, "That's a lovely name."
She smiled, "Thank you. What should I call you?"
"Well, you can call me Garcian Smith. And I must say you look like you can fall asleep on your feet."
Rose shrugged, "Well…"
The stranger known as Garcian Smith pulled out a wad of dollar bills and pulled out a fifty, where he tossed it to Rose, who caught it in with her left hand, questioningly.
"Rent yourself a bed for the night," Garcian said, "Get yourself out of the cold."
Rose looked at the bill, somehow not feeling right with receiving charity; especially from a complete stranger, even though he saved her life.
"I'm sorry," she said, looking up, "But I can't accept…"
He was gone, disappeared out of sight.
"…this?" she finished, surprised.
She rubbed the back of her head questioningly, trying to make sense of what just happened.
'Who was that man?' she thought, 'Smith? That sounds familiar.'
She then looked at the fifty-dollar bill she now held in her hands. She sighed, knowing there was nothing left to do but find some place to crash for the night and figure out what she was going to do next. She then stepped out of the alleyway and begun walking down the street, unaware that something was watching her back from the alleyway, once again from the shadows.
And he was smiling, as his pink eyes illuminated in the darkness.
"That was interesting," he said, before disappearing into the black.
So what do you think of the stage being set? By the way, if you're in the dark about what Killer7 is, you might want to check out the website. It is by far one of the best, if not one of the most craziest, games ever made.