The Diamond District of Gotham was a place of stark contrasts—gleaming storefronts filled with millions of dollars in gems sat only blocks away from crumbling tenements and alleyways that smelled of rain and industrial runoff. It was into one of these less-reputable corners that Jake, Lao Shi, and Stan finally returned. They returned to their cheap 'Sleep-Well' inn. The neon sign still flickered with a rhythmic buzz, casting a sickly green light over the cracked pavement.
They had been back for only fifteen minutes, the adrenaline from the heist at the museum still humming in their veins. The Orb of Malphorus was still in that enchanted container, safely inside the old dragon's pocket.
Lao Shi wasted no time. He pulled out a burner phone and dialed a number he had memorized with a grimace. It didn't ring twice before a raspy, high-pitched voice answered.
"The Master and the Boy," Ralph Silverfang's voice crackled, dripping with a greasy sort of satisfaction. "I assume you're calling because you have my property?"
"We have the Orb, Ralph," Lao Shi said, his voice tight. "But the deal was for Fu Dog. We want proof of life."
Across the line, the goblin let out a cackling laugh that sounded like dry leaves skittering over a grave. "Oh, the mutt is fine. A bit hungry, perhaps, and he's been howling enough to give my guards a headache, but he's whole. For now. Bring the artifact back to Cleveland. The same place as before. Don't be late, or I might decide that dragon-dog leather makes for a fine new pair of boots."
The line went dead. Lao Shi stared at the phone for a moment before snapping it shut.
"We're really doing this?" Jake asked, his arms crossed as he leaned against the peeling wallpaper. "Giving an artifact that could probably level a city to a bottom-feeding goblin syndicate leader? Grandpa, this feels wrong. It feels like we're trading one disaster for another."
Lao Shi looked at his grandson, his eyes weary. "You think I don't know that, Jake? But Ralph has Fu Dog. He knows our secrets, he knows our weaknesses. In this world, sometimes you have to choose between the greater good and the family that stands beside you. Right now, family is the only thing I can afford to save."
Stan, the hulking cyclops, grunted in agreement, though he looked equally troubled. After a few more minutes of tense silence, Stan stood up. "I'm going to make sure those two hotel staff members find their way home safely. I left them tied up in the van down the street. No sense in leaving them for the Gotham PD to find."
"Go," Lao Shi nodded. "Be careful."
With Stan gone, the room felt smaller. Jake felt the weight of the last twenty-four hours crashing down on him. They had fought through goblins and ogres in a supernatural night club, pulled a disastrous heist in Gotham, and stolen from under the nose of the Batman's territory. He just wanted to close his eyes.
"Get some sleep, Jake," Lao Shi urged, his voice softening. "We have five hundred miles to cover tomorrow. I'll keep the first watch."
Jake groaned but didn't argue. He collapsed onto the lumpy mattress, not even bothering to take off his boots. He told himself that nothing was going to wake him up. Not the sirens outside, not the damp cold of the room, not even the legendary psychos of this fucked up city.
He was just drifting into a dark, dreamless void when a sharp, rhythmic knock echoed through the room.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Jake was off the bed and on his feet before the third knock finished, his fists clenched, his inner fire flickering just beneath his skin. Lao Shi was already by the door, his hand hovering over the magical case containing the Orb.
"Who is it?" Lao Shi called out, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register.
"An old friend, Chao," a heavy, cultured voice replied from the other side. "One who would prefer not to discuss business in a hallway that smells of cheap gin and despair."
Lao Shi's shoulders dropped, just an inch. He recognized that voice—the weight of centuries lived and the weariness of a soul tied to something far older than himself. He unbolted the door and swung it open.
Standing there was a man in a sharp, charcoal suit. His hair was black with distinguished streaks of silver at the temples, and his eyes held a piercing, sorrowful intelligence.
"Jason," Lao Shi sighed, a genuine smile finally breaking through his mask of tension. "You always did have a knack for finding people who didn't want to be found."
"It's a curse, I assure you," Jason Blood replied, stepping into the room. The two men shared a brief, firm hug—a greeting between two relics of a bygone era.
Jason's gaze shifted to Jake. "And this must be the grandson I've heard so much about. The American Dragon."
"Jake, this is Jason Blood," Lao Shi introduced. "A man who has seen more history than most libraries."
Jake stepped forward, extending a hand. "Mister Blood. I saw you at the ballroom. You were... well, you stood out."
Jason chuckled, taking Jake's hand. "Call me Jason, please. 'Mister' makes me feel even older than I already am." As they shook, Jason leaned in slightly, increasing the pressure of his grip. It wasn't an aggressive move, but a test—a gauging of the strength behind the boy.
Jake felt the surge of power and smirked, meeting the pressure with his own draconic strength. The air between them seemed to thrum for a split second.
Jason pulled back, a look of genuine respect in his eyes. "Strong. Very strong. You've trained him well, Chao."
"Why are you here, Jason?" Lao Shi asked, his tone turning serious. "You believe you sensed our disguise at the hotel?"
"I did," Jason said, leaning against the dresser. "Your magical veils were competent, but to those of us who deal in the ancient arts, you stood out like a bonfire in the dark. I didn't intervene because I knew your reputation. I knew that if you were after the Orb, it was likely safer in your hands than in those of Klarion the Witch-Boy."
Lao Shi's eyes widened. "Now wait a damn minute! If you sensed us, then he—"
"He was distracted," Jason interrupted. "While the Joker was busy with his theatrics, I took the liberty of... occupying Klarion in the background. I ensured his focus remained on me and not on the two 'guests' making off with the prize. However, Klarion is not easily deterred. He is a creature of spite and chaos."
"Now, care to tell me why the two of you were after the Orb?" Jason asked.
"We're doing this for Fu Dog," Jake explained, the words tumbling out in a rush of frustration. "Ralph Silverfang took him. He's forcing us to trade the Orb for his life. We didn't want to steal it, but we didn't have a choice. Time was not on our side."
Jason's expression darkened. "Silverfang. A petty tyrant with delusions of grandeur. To hand him the Orb of Malphorus is to hand a child a loaded cannon. The power within that artifact is not merely gold and jewels, Jake. It is a conduit to the darker realms."
Jason looked like he wanted to argue further, to speak of the 'greater good' and the danger of the artifact, but seeing the desperation in their eyes he stopped. He knew the bond of family. He had lived for centuries without one, and he knew the hollow ache it left behind.
"I understand," Jason said softly. "But you must realize that—"
Suddenly, the air in the room grew cold—unnaturally cold. The hair on the back of Jake's neck stood up. His draconic senses screamed a warning a split second before the world exploded.
A massive blast of violet energy tore through the wall of the inn, shattering the brick and mortar into deadly shrapnel. The force of the explosion sent Jake and Lao Shi flying across the room.
Jake hit the far wall, his vision swimming. Through the smoke and the roar of flames, he felt the partial transformation take hold. Scales rippled across his skin, his teeth sharpened, and his muscles swelled with draconic energy. Beside him, Lao Shi emerged from the rubble in his own partial dragon form, his eyes glowing with a fierce, ancient light.
The inn was a nightmare. The 'Sleep-Well' was now a burning shell. Screams echoed from the hallway as guests tried to flee the inferno while others burned.
"Jason!" Jake coughed, looking for their visitor.
From the heart of the flames, a figure rose. It wasn't Jason Blood anymore. The man was gone, replaced by a hulking, demonic entity with skin the color of aged parchment and eyes like glowing coals. He wore tattered, medieval armor, and a jagged cape fluttered in the heat of the fire.
The demon opened his mouth, and his voice was a low, guttural growl that vibrated in Jake's chest.
"The sun is gone, the moon is high,
The Witch-Boy comes, and many die.
Gone, gone the form of man,
Rise the demon Etrigan!"
"Whoa," Jake breathed, even in the middle of the chaos. "So that's the roommate."
"Etrigan is Jason's burden and his shield," Lao Shi shouted over the roar of the fire. "Stay sharp, Jake!"
A high-pitched, mocking laughter cut through the sounds of destruction. Descending through the hole in the wall, floating on a cloud of dark magic, was Klarion. He looked exactly as he had at the ballroom—the pale skin, the sharp, black suit, and the unnerving, crooked smile. On his shoulder sat Teekl, his ginger cat, its eyes glowing with the same malicious violet light as its master.
"Oh, look at this!" Klarion chirped, his voice dripping with childish glee. "The old lizard brought a little hatchling to play! And look, Teekl, the Rhyme-Man is here too. How droll."
Etrigan growled, a sound of pure hatred.
"Small boy of chaos, foul and slight,
I'll tear thy soul and end thy light!"
"Boring!" Klarion flicked his wrist, and a bolt of energy hissed past Etrigan's head. He turned his attention to Lao Shi. "You took my toy, old man. I worked very hard to set up that little museum heist, and you just walked away with the prize. I don't like it when people steal from me. It makes me... cranky."
Jake stepped forward, his wings unfurling behind him, snapping the air. "Cranky? Dude, look at you. You look like a ventriloquist's dummy that escaped from a haunted toy store. Was there a sale on hair gel and 'creepy orphan' suits, or do you always look like you're auditioning for a Tim Burton remake of 'The Little Rascals'?"
Klarion's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed. "A comedian. How refreshing. Usually, people are too busy screaming to make jokes."
"Well, usually I'm more selective about who I roast," Jake retorted, his hands sparking with dragon fire. "But for a guy who travels with a cat as his only friend, I'll make an exception. Seriously, what's with the cat? Is he the brains of the operation, or just there to catch the mice in your head?"
Teekl hissed, its body arching, its form beginning to shift and grow, its claws lengthening into serrated blades.
"Teekl doesn't like you," Klarion said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its playfulness. "And frankly, I'm starting to agree with her. I think I'll take the Orb, and then I'll turn you into a very nice pair of luggage."
"You want the Orb?" Lao Shi stepped up beside Jake, his stance rock-solid. "You'll have to go through the Dragon lineage and the Hell-bound Knight to get it."
Klarion threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down Jake's spine. "Oh, goody! I was hoping you'd say that. I haven't had a good tantrum in days."
With a wave of his hand, the flames of the burning inn turned a sickly purple and began to take the shape of hounds, snapping at the air with jaws of fire. The battle in the Diamond District had just begun.