Page 2 of Draco's Fire

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “but the result wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t be going up against an outnumbered, young, inexperienced kid that can’t complete his shift under stress. It would be a fight with metas who can hold their own.”

“We don’t want a fight at all,” Tyson interrupted, “fair or otherwise. We want a peaceful gathering where metas can talk to humans and explain that we’re not so different and that we aren’t a threat to them. Engaging in a gigantic brawl where metas triumph over regular humans, even though the humans were the ones trying to cause a problem, wouldn’t help our cause. Self defense or not, that would just illustrate the physical advantages metas have over regular humans, and could result in humans feeling more threatened, rather than less.”

“That’s true, good point,” Michael agreed.

Gil nodded. “Exactly why I say it shouldn’t happen. It’s just too risky.”

“And that is why I say it does need to happen,” Tyson argued. “We need to prove to the world that we can coexist without violence. I say we go with Michael’s suggestion of extra tight security. I would also suggest this security be human, not meta, so as not to make the humans feel threatened, and that they be armed with tasers. Anyone who takes violent action against someone else, human or meta, gets tased and turned over to police for assault. Nip any violence in the bud that way, before anything has a chance to escalate.”

“That won’t stop someone from planting a bomb or something,” Gil pointed out.

“No, but extra security during the set-up phase should help with that. For that matter, we can hire someone with some bomb sniffing dogs to go over everything and keep walking around through the crowd to keep that risk at a minimum as well.”

Gil didn’t look convinced, but Michael agreed that was a good idea.

“Look,” Tyson said, “After what we just witnessed, there is no way you’re talking me out of this rally. It needs to happen. Period.”

Two

Shayla

“Feckin’ hell,” Shayla said and scowled at the latest report before picking it up a third time. The details hadn’t changed. An upsurge in rant posts on confirmed hate-sites combined with a coherent call to action was a sure sign someone was about to have a very bad day.

All she had to do was make sure the good guys came out on top of whatever went down.

No problem.

She sighed. At PEACE, like all other government organizations, the mission would begin only after the red-tape monster was appeased. Shayla took a quick ten-count before pushing away from her desk.

As usual, her immediate supervisor’s door was open. It was a solid policy designed to foster easy communication, but his mind was often too closed for it to work effectively.Ugh.

She wasn’t in the mood for games. The spark of her fae glamour ignited, bringing with it the tantalizing promise of an easy win.

She crushed it out with a twinge of regret. Charming co-workers was strictly forbidden, and Shayla thanked the stars no one had witnessed her lapse.

This report must have put her further on edge than she’d thought.

She tapped the doorframe and made her tone extra bright as she called out, “Got a moment, Phil?”

“You betcha. Come on in, Simmons,” he replied.

Phil looked up from his monitor and startled to see she was already standing at his desk.

“Good grief! We’ve talked about this and it’s not that hard to remember. Do not sneak up on an old guy. My poor heart can’t take it,” he said.

She suppressed a groan. Phil Mercer was a month shy of forty-two and surprisingly fit for a mundane human with a desk job. She arched a perfectly manicured brow and held her tongue. They both knew she was far older than she appeared to be.

In today’s world, you never quite knew who you were dealing with. You could look at her, for example, and register only surface details—female, blonde-streaked brunette, green eyes, about twenty-five—never realizing how much you’d missed before it’s too late.

She waited.

Phil’s already ruddy complexion flushed a deeper red. He cleared his throat and said, “What do you need?”

Shayla held out the file as she explained, “Some new rhetoric advocating anti metahuman crimes has the internet buzzing. It’s the same old bullshit dressed in shiny new clothes. Standard ethics and rules don’t apply because you can’t be inhumane to the inhuman, blah-blah-blah.”

Phil took the folder with obvious reluctance, and said, “So? Why bring it here?”

“It feels different this time. The argument is familiar, sure, but it’s catching on fast. The usual suspects love the reasonable veneer and newcomers are jumping on board. In my professional opinion, this push is designed to gain support for something already in the works,” she replied.

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