[center][img]http://data.whicdn.com/images/147991305/superthumb.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=red][h1][center]Christopher Francis[/center][/h1][/color]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ.   / /   ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪   / /  ~𝟙𝟚𝟜𝟘[/color][/center][hr]

Just before Chris received his latest edition of the worst pain imaginable, a single word echoed in his mind. 

[i]Why[/i]

Why indeed, did that monster actually speak to him? Maybe it was another subnatural, but nothing about that voice felt human enough for him to believe it. Time had seemed to slow down on his head as he dwelled on the thought of that voice. 

Reality did set in though, and unlike thinking about that single word, the pain that followed sent him in a blur. Flash Frozen, Chris didn't even have time to scream as his body plummeted. He barely noticed that his fall ended sooner then it should have. Before he had time to even acknowledge he had been saved a horrible scream sent him flying. The force did thaw him enough to move, but at the price of another great wave of pain. By the time he landed he was practically conscienceless from his body pounding in its broken state. Most of him now felt numb, both from the abuse of pain, and the ice that had once frozen him.

When he came to, he lifted his head in a slow motion. His eyes opened, one could notice a filmy membrane that disappeared from the eye as it did; much like the protective gland from a crocodile. Toxic blood flowed from his frostbitten body. Torn scales revealed flesh and tissue beneath which created large gashes in his body, weak points in his armor. One of his legs was broken, so was the wing. Flying was out of the option now, at least until he could get help. Knowing his leg was broken would make walking slow and difficult. 

In hindsight, charging head on like that was a stupid idea; something he didn't seem to learn from the mechanical serpent either. Its a miracle he's even still alive. With his present conundrum, Chris debating between options. He could undo his transformation, but he'd be far more  vulnerable; both in the sense that he was naked and that he had far less power to defend himself in comparison. He hadn't exactly practice his untransformed powers well enough to take any of the current threats head on. It wasn't as if staying transformed was a good idea either though, he could barely move now; which is a piss poor condition to fight in, what good could he do in this broken body?
As far as healers went, Christmas was down when he left and he wasn't sure of his condition right now, which left Liliana as his likely healer. That would imply though, that anyone had saw him get demolished out there. 

Inside he loved the thought of being watched by his comrades, to be some kind of inspiring force with whatever might this form brought him. That secret desire was put to rest with his utter humiliation of a charge; Whether or not anyone was watching he [i][u]failed[/u][/i]. It came with it a sense of loneliness he was familiar with. Only now he can feel the piercing glares of dead souls he once knew, souls of disparity turned into spirits of menace. As if his failure had suddenly caused his former loved ones an ire that wanted to destroy him, to finish the job that the monster did to him.

For what felt like a while, All Chris did was lie there. Some moments staring at the sky, others eyes closed. He felt like a horse with a broken leg; something that was going to be put down because it was no longer useful and suffering in his waiting. His crippled and battered body was still gravely sore. Parts of him screamed that he should just transform back now, give up and wait it out for the others to [i]hopefully[/i] take care of everything. 

No

It wasn't that simple. Chris couldn't accept that reality. There was a part of him that only burned a stronger desire to get up and fight. Whether that was him or his dragon's, if it was even capable of thought, idea; he didn't care. He willed himself to move; First to roll off of the building and onto the street below. A fall that really didn't help his immeasurable pain. He continued still. First he pulled his upper body up, then the hindleg that wasn't broken. The fourth leg, broken and battered from his injuries, dragged against the ground as he pushed himself to move. He limped over to a crushed car, and then proceeded to rip away the car until he could retrieve the fuel tank underneath it. A process that if he wasn't so injured would have been simple, but each tear with his claw or bite only worsened the pain in his body. 

He had a break to catch his breathe, part of him still asking if he could really do this. The bastard already made up his mind though and he ripped out the fuel tank with his mouth. Gasoline sputtered from the torn tank, leaking into his maw and spilling over his lips and front claws. He thrashed the can around to coat himself in the flammable fluid. His tail swiped to a second car, tipping it over so he could get a second tank. He was more careful with the second fuel tank, carrying in it in his maw no matter how much his pain receptors beamed at him not too. He then started to make his way towards the slime, towards the monster. When he had flown in the air he had a glimpse of it before so he wasn't exactly lost; but he knew he had a long way to go. 

First he just dragged his lower body behind him in his struggle, but he started to pick up the pace the more he thought over that desire. A desire that was rooted in past fear; If he can't do anything, then they'll end up like them, the friends he lost in his home town, his family, or even his roommates. He had to do something, he had to keep going to prevent that cycle to repeat. No matter how much blood he lost or how much his body denied him of the thought, he kept going. 

He had gotten to the point where he was standing more upright. No matter how much he willed it, he could not sprint; not even jog. His broken leg couldn't afford it and would not respond to his own willpower. The best he could do was limp at a fast pace, like a horse that was desperate to prove its leg [i]wasn't broken[/i] despite all evidence to the contrary. After some progress he crushed the second fuel tank and tossed it above him, dousing him more in fuel. He then widened his maw, despite how sore he felt. As the fire started to form inside him his throat lit up a red light, and then the flames splattered beneath him. This caught fire to his entire body, laced with fuel, it completely coated him like a veil. 

If Chris's dragon form wasn't so much of a monster before, his silhouette encased in flames gave him the appearance of some kind of demon. The action would have been some form of crazy suicide had Chris's dragon form didn't have its heat immunity. His frostbitten scales thawed. With his body heated up it inspired an illusion of more energy which aided his willpower. Thus, he moved as fast as his broken body would allow him. He tried to kick up into the air with each step to compensate for the broken foot, but the speed difference wasn't much of a boost and the action only worsened his pain. That didn't stop him from continuing in this method of motion however.