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[h1][color=f7976a][u][b]Lysander Shen[/b][/u][/color][/h1][/center]



[color=crimson]"You [i]didn't[/i] see me?"[/color] Kandahar's expression crinkled at the asian, Smoke was beginning to slowly trickle out of the exit behind him, the noxious taste of burning liquor close behind it. For his part, he tugged at the dufflebag slung over his shoulderand moved to pace off, the fingers of his gloved hand idly curling inwards and almost threatening to form a fist. 

[color=crimson]"Then [i]walk away.[/i]"[/color] 

[color=f7976a]"Uh... did you... do that?"[/color] Lysander asked, pointing at the burning building. Every instinct told him to simply turn and walk away but he just... couldn't. Whether it was a misbegotten sense of justice, or some kind of psychic change brought in by his newfound bond with his mind forged drake, he could not tell. It was just that he would not walk from this...

[i]"Oh, he definitely did it."[/i] Shenron's disembodied voice rang into his mind. [i]"Perhaps I can deal with it-"[/i]

[color=f7976a][i]"What-"[/i][/color]

[i]"I'm itching to punch something in the face, damn it!"[/i]

Sparks began flying from the small stuffed dragon hanging from Lysander's backpack. It wanted out.

Kandahar's hand edged closer to their waistline, their gaze expressively shifting  at the sight of the compartmentalised fireworks display. [color=crimson]"This isn't your business,"[/color] he insisted. 

[i]"Let me at it!"[/i] Shenron raged against the psychic restraints that stopped him from simply bursting into existence. [i]"This man, he has committed murder!"[/i]

[color=f7976a]"Sh.. shut up!"[/color] Lysander hissed, only to realize that he didn't just think that. He said it. [color=f7976a]"No, I wasn't talking to-[/color]

Too late. Only the slightest lapse of control was needed for Shenron to break free, and he burst forth, a seven foot tall draconian being wreathed in holy flame. Lysander cursed at himself as his own inexperience with his powers had allowed this to happen. 

He wanted to run, but he couldn't. Not when his psychic creation had revealed itself.

"Arsonist, you shall not pass!" The dragon hissed at Kandahar. "Not until justice is given!"

Lysander couldn't think, or move. Shenron was indeed a fully sentient being, and though it would take only a direct command for him to bow and withdraw, Lysander was in no state of mind to do so.

Something indiscernible slipped from Kandahar's lips, a curse in a language neither of them were liable to understand. Backpedalling, the Pashtun tugged a pistol loose and blindly squeezed off a few rounds as they forced their way back [i]into[/i] the smoking building, blindly making for a flight of stairs.

[color=f7976a]"What the-"[/color] Lysander's voice dropped into a silent gawk as he watched the man run, not away from the burning building, but into it. Was he just scared of crossing the seven feet tall dragon bathed in fire? Or was he Altered as well, and he was... fireproof or something?

That did nothing to deter the drake, which quickly rushed after Kandahar, its sleek and slender draconic form slipping inside. 

Lysander knew not of most of his abilities, and to be frank, he was more inclined to call for the fire brigade. And he did. Oddly enough, there was this strange sensation of righteous fury coursing through his mind... as if he was feeling was his creation was feeling. Is this what psychic bonding entailed?

Inside, though, Kandahar found himself chased by the flaming and possessed creature, whose growls emanated through the stairways. Fire did not even since its supposedly flammable form, as it too was perpetually ablaze.

Vaulting over the limp body of one of the bar's patrons, the 'arsonist' made a beeline for the office upstairs, ignoring the flames licking at his back. He burst through the window, scrabbling up the fire exit - one of his arms still smouldering where the growing inferno had charred it. 

Yet the dragon roared after him, unrelenting in its pursuit. "Why do you run? Do you fear justice?"

[color=crimson]"Th-"[/color] A hoarse, rasping cough erupted from Kandahar's blackened face as he reached the rooftop level, tumbling to the floor. The dufflebag spilled out on the floor beside him, and would've been alight if not for him fervently beating out the flames that had threatened to devour its and its contents. Persistent he was though, forcing himself bsck to his feet even as his pursuer closed in. 

[man emperor - giving you a window to put some more dialogue from the dragon here if you want] 

[color=crimson]"That [i]was[/i] justice."[/color] Kandahar insisted, steering the sight of his pistol towards the mythical entity's serpentine form and squeezing off five more rounds in rapid succession, only stopping when the slide had locked backwards, the magazine emptied. He was backed to the wall, metaphorically speaking - to the edge, literally speaking. 

The bullets didn't do anything but lodge themselves into flaming stuffing. Shenron was not a being made from mortal flesh, but a strange, possessed stuffed toy, enlarged and strengthened by whatever mad power bound him with his creator.

"Just say why." The dragon reiterated, his voice almost pleading. "Why did you do it?"

[color=crimson]"Because.."[/color]  Kandahar started, almost hesitant - his features creased firm. For a moment, he glanced towards the edge of the rooftop, peering into the alleyway below, conscious of the approaching sirens as smoke billowed out from the ground level below them. [color=crimson]"Because I can. Because it's my right."[/color] A sliver of malice emerged for just a moment, the shadow of a bitter, joyless grin. [color=crimson]"Because I enjoyed it."[/color] Without another word, he took a step off the ledge, careening down into the alleyway below. 

"Enjoyed...?" Shenron hissed angrily, and was about to lunge towards Kandahar with a thousand pound bite. He would be disappointed, though, as the man jumped down the ledge and unto the cold concrete below.

"Suicidal bastard..." The dragon grumbled. He moved to check it out, but an irresistible force pulled unto his mind and body. His master calls for him to return. Shenron found himself drawn through the fabric of space, into a realm beyond the material, and back into the measly form he usually had. A small stuffed toy bound to the back of bag.

There, Lysander would sooner turn away from the commotion, as crowds of curious onlookers and teams of firefighters converged around the burning building. Lysander spoke to the authorities and relayed that someone had come out of the building as it burned. Who this was, he probably won't know...