"Shawn!" My dad shouts, running through the line of men.

Dad! Get back! I roar.

"No! I'm not running anymore!" Dad says, loading his assault rifle.

"Aww, this must be your father? Well, isn't this a nice family reunion. I'm touched," Lukas says, loading a new belt into his light machine gun.

"Load that, you're a dead man, Lukas!" My dad says, taking aim at Lukas's heart.

"You wouldn't," Lukas teases.

"Try me. Harm my family, you deal with me," Dad says, flicking off the safety.

"Oh, I intend on stopping this monstrosity family one and for all," Lukas says, pulling the charging handle back.

"Drop the gun, now!" Dad says.

"Or what? You gonna shoot me?" Lukas says, raising the gun to my eye level.

"Don't tempt me," Dad says.

"Sergeant Johl! Don't shoot!" The lieutenant says.

"Sorry, sir, but this is outside military rules. This is personal," Dad says. Man, this is the most I've ever seen my dad care about family.

"Go ahead, shoot me. See what happens to your beloved monster of a son," Lukas says.

"You, do not! Call my son a monster!" Dad says, steadying himself.

"I'm sorry. Your little beast!" Lukas says, firing at me. He misses, but my dad doesn't. I see the bullet rip Lukas's shirt, but no blood. And he's still standing.

"Oh. Nice shot. But I'm afraid you've forgot one thing, Gronkle Iron. Bullet proof," Lukas says. That's it! I run into the school, barely avoiding the bullets.

Carla! Where's your shield! I roar, running through the doors.

"In my locker," Carla says. I run out the door, throwing the shredded clothes away. I grab some fresh clothes, change in the locker room, and grab Carla's shield. I run out the door, hiding behind the shield, and feeling the bullets rattling off the shield.

"I see you have a defence," Lukas says.

"Not only a defence, but an offence!" I say, slamming the shield into Lukas's head, knocking him out.

"Nice hit. Now, let's get this man locked up, for good," the lieutenant says. I wipe the shield off using my shirt I didn't throw away. I head back into the school, the shield strapped onto my back.

"Where do you think you're going, my good fighter?" Carla tries to lighten my mood. She succeeds.

"I'm grabbing the saddle, and heading out," I say, opening Carla's locker.

"Not so fast," Carla says.

"I was going to fly Siare to her home," I say.

"Oh. In that case, I'm coming along," Carla says.

"You have school," I say.

"I'm suspended for the next week. So I'm coming along," Carla says.

"What!" I say, shocked.

"You are too. They found your dagger," Carla says, handing it to me.

"Crap. Well, let's go," I say, shutting her locker.

"I'm so sorry, Siare," I say, leaning down to the limp body. I hide, changing.

Get the saddle on me, now. I growl. Flying off, I feel Siare shift, slightly. Siare! I roar, feeling a warm breath blow across my neck.

"She's alive!" Carla says.

Of course I am. A little gun like that isn't going to kill me. Siare growls.

Right, well anyway, we are just going to drop you off at your home and head back, so you just rest up your strength. I growl.

"Man. I can't believe Lukas got out," Carla says on the flight home from Berk.

Yeah. How, though? I growl.

"Maybe he had a phone call and told one of his men to get him out?" Carla says.

Well, however he got out, he will regret it if he ever does again. I growl.

"Uhm, Shawn? We passed my house," Carla says.

Yeah, I'm just picking something up real quick. I asked Jacob to call your phone. But I'll just check in every so often. I growl.

"Welcome back! I'll be with you in just a sec," Jacob says.

"Jacob started a new business?" Carla says.

Yeah, you didn't hear Mom when she told me? I growl.

"Well, no. I really wasn't paying attention to what she said," Carla says.

"You showing her the store? Or come for your gun?" Jacob says. I walk up to the counter while Carla looks around. "How you doing?" Jacob says, petting my head.

I dunno if you can hear me. I growl.

"Aww, I wish I could understand you," Jacob says.

Carla! Can you please come over here? I growl.

"Sure," Carla says, waking away from a war pistol.

"Hello, Carla," Jacob says.

"Hello there," Carla says.

"Oh! Shawn! It's ready. I tried calling her phone but I couldn't get through," Jacob says, putting the submachine gun on the counter, in a bag.

"What is that?" Carla says.

It's the UMP I had when those two people came to our house. I growl.

"It's Shawn's UMP he somehow got," Jacob says, not knowing I just told her. "How come I couldn't reach Carla?" Jacob says.

"Oh, Shawn shattered my phone. Lukas got out and was after Shawn," Carla says.

"Oh. Well, keep your heads up. I'll be on the watch, too," Jacob says.

Thank you. I growl.

"Shawn says thanks," Carla says.

"No problem," Jacob says.

"See you Jacob," Carla says.

"Take care, you two. Be careful with that, Shawn," Jacob says. We walk to my house from Jacob's store.

"Goodbye, Shawn," Carla says, kissing my head.

See you later. I growl. Well, my wing is healed up fully, but my cut, why is it still open? Walking up the stairs to my room, changing back, it's the second most painful thing ever since my first change.

"Shawn! Are you okay?" Dad says.

Yeah, I'm fine. I growl. Wait, growl? Why am I still growling? I'm still Night Wing!

"Shawn, you're bleeding," Dad says. I look at my side and, sure enough, my stitches ripped out and I'm bleeding, badly.

Crap! I roar, covering the wound with my tail.

"How did this happen?" Dad asks, wrapping medicated pads onto me using some leather strips and some warped wood. "This ought to do until we get to the vet," Dad says. This is still weird, going to the vet. "Get on," Dad says, getting into a Hummer. About halfway, the leather snaps and I'm holding the wood to my side using my wing and tail. "You hanging in there?" My dad says.

Yeah. I groan, pretty much standing in a puddle of blood. We get to the vet and my dad picks me up and carries me into the building. By this time, I've lost a lot of blood for a dragon, and passed out.

"Oh. The dragon again," John says. "Bring him in here," He says, noticing that I'm bleeding.

"Will he be okay?" Dad asks.

"I don't know. He's lost a lot of blood already. He just might survive if we get this wound stitched up quickly. Oh, this may take some time," John says, taking a look at the gash. John is stitching me up while Dad is monitoring my health.

"He's on the verge. He-" John says.

"He's dead,"