Slamming the door behind him, Sam burst into his house after sprinting back at a meteoric speed. He leaned back on the door in an attempt to pacify his furious heartbeat. Adrenaline coursed through him as he remembered what had happened just five minutes ago. That everyone now knew of his ability to create fire.
The image stuck with him. Petrified faces; flames twisting in a wrathful whirlwind. It was amazingly lucky that no one was hurt, and strange that there was no teacher there. The thought of going back gave no aid to Sam, who was trying to relax despite the queerness of that day.
Eventually, his pulse calmed down and Sam figured that there was nothing he could do. It was absolutely pointless to even try to think at the moment. He changed his clothes; putting on his favourite yellow hoodie. He even made a cup of tea. The room was calm, tranquil. There would be no use to worrying about what would happen next, so he just waited for it.
And it came.
There was a loud knock on the door which made Sam jump. Was it an inspector wanting to ask about what had happened? Was it someone from school?
He started to slowly pace towards the front door, but tried not to approach slowly enough to be seen as rude. His hand started to tremble like it had electricity flowing through it, and he felt a single bead of nervous sweat loitering on his forehead. As soon as he opened the door, he looked up to see a rather tall man in a trench coat.
"Can I help you?" Sam asked before spotting a questionable, creepy smile appear on the man's face.
The devastating punch that Sam felt in his stomach forced him to land on the coffee table in the middle of the room. The attacker waltzed into the house while Sam struggled to get up off of the table, spluttering a small amount of blood onto the carpet.
The intruder grabbed Sam by the hood of his jumper and flung him through the wall and into the kitchen. "Are you really a dragon?" he uttered with a sickly grin before grabbing him by the collar. "You're not very impressive."
Sam growled before head-butting him, loosening his grip and allowing himself to pick himself up. A dragon? What was he talking about?
The man went to punch Sam again, but he dodged and hit the intruder back making him stagger. A flurry of jabs flew towards the man in different areas of his body, forcing him back a bit and allowing Sam to breathe.
"That's more like it," the intruder exclaimed sadistically before knocking Sam back again, onto his back. The adolescent was writhing in pain when the attacker stepped on his body. The foot wasn't too heavy, but Sam's body was aching from the beating that he'd received. He couldn't believe that he was losing a fight.
"Time to die," whispered the intruder, with a tone that made Sam's skin crawl. His eyes were wide and looked like they belonged to a psychopath, a monster. He slowly pulled a knife out of his jacket, which gleamed as it was hit by the sunlight, and the young boy's life was flashing before his eyes. The knife was about to descend upon Sam, but the weapon's journey could not be completed.
The man was tossed to the other side of the room by a second intruder. The figure stood next to Sam, apparently not there to cause him harm. It stood defiantly and created a strong impression, despite being the shortest one in the room by two or three inches.
Sam's blurred vision returned to normal and he could now tell that the person was also wearing a trench coat. Black. He could also tell that the person had long, spiky, red hair, the exact same shade of red as blood dashing on clean, white snow.
"Congratulations," said the second guest, apparently male, "you managed to beat this guy up. Now, see if you can do the same to me."
Something about his voice irritated Sam. It dragged on his ears, making them feel like they were being violated by the sound. It was sarcastic by default, as if it carried sarcasm so much that it had adapted to its use.
"The hell are you," Sam insinuated, eyes wide with shock.
"You..." the first man muttered, "you're the Iguana, aren't you? You're a dragon hunter! You became a lieutenant at the age of fourteen!"
"Yes yes," the shorter one answered, "now fight me."
The taller man froze for a moment before hearing the next comment.
"Unless you're a coward." A wry grin appeared on the shorter one's face before the knife came at him in a stabbing motion, swiftly evaded by the Iguana with a tilt of the head.
"No," he muttered, a condescending smile still on his face, before his hand became lit up with a blue aura, and it grabbed the man's head.
The hand just stayed there for a while, the blue light seemingly being absorbed into the man's head before he eventually collapsed to the floor, slamming pathetically into the surface.
There was a brief silence in the room as the shorter man put his hands into his coat pockets. Sam managed to get himself up onto his feet, possibly to fight him, though it would probably be futile. The guest turned to face Sam, which was when he realised that he was about the same age as him. His face definitely belonged to that of a teenager, and Sam supposed that not many adults would have that sort of hairstyle: carnelian red, spiked and long, held back only by a headband which was barely noticeable due to the streaks of red overlapping it.
"Sam Winters?" he said, giving another dangerously sardonic grin.