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Part One

"Ohhh, Sparky! Yer mah only friend." Harold smiled as he pet his hairless dog. A rare breed, it was always one of those dogs with an electric personality, often attracting many odd glances from passerby every time Harold walked him in the park.

Harold hobbled around on his cane, smiling at at a nice young girl as she ambled past, glancing up from her touchscreen phone in awe at his precious doggo. "That’s a cool pet you’ve got there!"

Harold grinned as he walked along with Sparky. "Yeaaap, he’s mah pride ‘n joy! Have a nice day, ma’am!"

With a whistle and a bit of pep in his step, Harold and his best friend walked down the path towards his local doctor’s office. He had three appointments today, but he wasn’t in a big rush since they were hours apart. As an old geezer, he had plenty of time on his hands anyway. Retirement was great!

Pushing against the glass door, he swung it open as he left his dog outside, chained to a post. One thing he was sure of, even in New York City, nobody had ever tried to steal his doggy. They always seemed a little scared of the pupper. So odd! He’s just a cute little bugger, nothing to be scared, of, the little scaredy cats.

The lady at the clinic smiled as he gave her his information. "Harold Heimmer, was it? The doctor will see you down in 2B. It’s down the hall and to the right, past the second door."

"The what door? Speak up, I ain’t got mah hearing aids in!"

The lady’s smile faltered as she repeated it. He nodded and hobbled down the hall, arriving in the empty room as he planted his butt on the waiting chair.

………………………………………….

Time passed. Harold was starting to get a little antsy as the seconds turned into minutes. "Goddamn doctors, charge ye a fortune then they take their time gettin’ here."

As he muttered and grumbled, a tall, skinny man walked in the room. "Ah, John, was it?"

Harold was still grumbling under his breath but he jerked his head up when the doctor walked in. "Took ya long enough. Let’s git it over with!"

The doctor nodded. "Hmm. You’re a lot older than I was expecting. Anyway, this… procedure … it’s highly experimental. I’ve only tested it on a select few people, but the results have been quite astounding."

Harold glared at the doctor. "Procedure? Just git on with it, boy! I’m payin’ good money, ya know!"

"Ahaha… yes, good money indeed." The doctor winked knowingly as he glanced at the zeroes on his notes, but then he grimaced. Glancing back at his notes, he frowned slightly. John Brown, huh? He really is a lot older than I expected, but anonymity is supposed to be the highlight of this test. Can’t risk losing my funding over too many questions.

Pulling his eyes back up, he smiled quickly. "Well, in any case, let’s get this over with. Please drink this, and come with me." He handed Harold a glass of strange green liquid. Harold sniffed it curiously and then downed it in one gulp. It tasted like shit, but at his age, everything tasted like shit.

"I gots two more appointments after this, boy! Let’s git a move on."

The doctor smiled a pained expression as he turned away from the annoying old man. I’m so glad they’re paying me top rate for this.

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Recommended listening

Harold stepped out of the doctor’s office and walked over to his dog, his stomach feeling a bit weird. "Ahh… that was th’ weirdest checkup they ever done, Sparky. I tell ya h-wat, that just didn’t feel quite right to me."

Unhooking the leash from its pedestal, he ambled away from the doctor’s office as a man in a black suit rushed past him. Almost tripping over Harold’s dog, the guy grimaced. "Ah! Sorry, I’m late!"

Harold grumbled at the guy but kept walking. "Kids these days, no respect for their elders."

As he walked along, he thought he heard a strange voice mumbling in his head. It sounded guttural, like the sound a caveman would make. Harold glanced from left to right but couldn’t make heads or tails of where it came from. Ignoring it, he kept walking towards the dentist. His eyes felt very strange, and he rubbed them repeatedly, noting his vision was blurring moreso than normal.

"Damn, can’t see anything with these nutty prescriptions anymore. Almost better without ’em." As he pulled his glasses off, he gasped quietly. In fact he was better off without them. Looking all over the place, he mumbled in confusion. He could see an arcade across the street, and as his vision cleared, he could even see the exact numbers for the high scores on the screen.

His perception of time seemed to slow and then speed up, as time itself ebbed around him. Across the way, he watched two young boys in Central Park tossing a baseball back and forth. Sometimes the ball would rocket forwards, others it would crawl through the air slowly.

As Harold tried to make sense of it all, he once again heard that strange voice in his mind. This time though, it was clear as day.

"Master, are you feeling well?"

Glancing around, he brought his eyes down to his dog, and- holy Jesus and hail Saint Mary! That ain’t no damn dog!

"Sparky? What kinda animal are ya? Ye ain’t no dog I never seen!"

Sparky nodded as his voice once again seemed to speak wordlessly in Harold’s mind. "I am a dragon, of the element you know as electricity. You appear to have awakened your dormant genes."

"Son of a gun! Yer a dragon? And you kin’ TALK? This is mah lucky day! Now yer a true best friend!"

"I’m more than just a friend, Harold. I am your spirit guardian. I am bound to you by a soul contract."

"Spirit Guardian? Wassat? What’chu talkin’ ’bout, boy?"

The dragon solemnly nodded its head. "In due time. You have always possessed a secret power, the dormant latent ability known as Luck. Now that you have acquired age and the wisdom needed to use it, Gaia has decided to make you one of her Guardians. You have been called upon, Harold. You were chosen."

Harold stared incredulously at the dragon as he leaned backwards against a wall. Without meaning to, his hand rested on a metal protrusion sticking out of the wall, suddenly shattering it in his hands. Stumbling to the side, Harold gasped at the realization he was suddenly extremely strong.

"Mah body… it’s…"

"This is only the beginning, my dearest friend. This is what your entire life has lead up to, this is what you must perform. Now listen! In the distance! What do you hear?!"

Harold cocked his ear and listened carefully, as the sounds of a world around him entered into his mind. People arguing, people chatting, birds chirping… and in a distant alley…"

"Please! No! Stop!" The sound of a scuffle. A man falling to the ground. Other men chuckling as they closed in on their prey.

Harold glared as his vision narrowed to a slit. "Not in mah city."

………………………………………….

Part Two

"I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean it! I’ll pay the Boss back!" The kid on the ground trembled in terror as he pushed himself away with his legs, his right arm already broken in half.

The three mafia thugs grinned as they ambled forwards, one of them slinging a Tommy Gun over his should as he puffed on a cigar. "Now then, ain’t that nice? Timmy thinks he can just beg for mercy. You can’t just borrow money from the Capones ‘n walk away without paying, kid." The thug with the gun laughed as he flung the cigar at the boy.

The kid flinched as it smacked his chest and flopped to the ground. "N-no, I’m serious! I’ll pay him back! I’ve e-even got a job all lined up and everything!"

"Aww, he’s got a job, hear that, boss?" One of the thugs in the tuxedo with a nice wide-brimmed hat smirked. "You owe twenty-five grand, kid. You ain’t payin’ that off in one week. Yer ass is grass, capisce?"

"Take it slow, Sam, he ain’t no threat." The third thug in a plaid suit who wore a pair of sunglasses grinned hugely as he thought of how they would get to torment this one before they offed him.

The kid broke down in tears as the head thug leveled his gun at the kid. "Hope you pray every day, boy. You’re about to meet your maker."

"Now ah say, hold on just a second hea!" The thugs paused as they heard a voice from the end of the alley. Glancing back the leader smirked as he saw an old man standing all alone at the end of the alley.

"A witness. Sam, take care of it."

"You got it, boss." The thug in the hat smiled as he plucked a knife from his pocket and shambled over to the old man. "Hey there, geezer. What’re you doing out all alone this time of day, eh?"

The old man stared levelly at the man approaching him. "The sun’s out nice’n bright, boy. Looks like you guys’re tryin’a cause some… tomfoolery up in hea." The old man stood firm as Sam walked up close.

The thug with the tommy gun sighed as he turned his gaze back to the kid. "It’s a shame, for a second there you almost looked like you had hope someone would rescue your sorry thievin’ ass. Now you’re back to pissing yourself."

At the end of the alley, the two thugs heard the sound of a muffled gasp as a body fell to the ground. Without looking back, the third thug in the plaid shirt grinned. "Poor sumbitch didn’t even see it coming."

"Goddamn right, he didn’t." The old man’s voice spoke up and the two criminals jerked their heads back around to see their comrade lying in a crumpled heap, his arms twisted in unnatural ways and his head rotated at a disgusting angle.

"W-what the fuck? Sam!" The man in the plaid suit grimaced at the sight of his dead friend. "You k-killed him?! How?! You don’t look like some goddamn cop to me!"

The boss gnashed his teeth as he looked at the weak-looking old man. He knew, from his time in the military, this man wasn’t as he appeared. He had the eyes of a hardened killer. "Stay back, Thomas. This guy’s trouble."

"Damn straight I’m trouble. Say, where’d that kid of yours go?" Harold smiled pleasantly as Thomas glanced back, only to see the kid was gone.

"What the hell? This alley’s a dead end! Where did he-?!" Thomas didn’t get to finish his sentence, as a terrifying winged monster swooped down like an eagle, pulling up at the last second as it latched onto his head, yanking it off in a horrific display of deadly power. His spinal cord yanked out of his body partway before detaching from his head, as his corpse flopped to the ground.

The boss screamed in terror as he aimed his gun at the apparition that had flown away before he even had his bearing straight. Harold laughed whole-heartedly as the man fired wildly into the sky, his gunshots echoing loudly throughout all the nearby streets.

Harold shook his head and wagged his finger at the mob boss. "Too slow, Joe. Ya gotta be faster’n that to catch mah Sparky."

The mob boss whipped his gun at Harold and fired, but the instant he pulled the trigger, Harold lightly tossed a rock at the gun, smashing it out of the boss’s hands at the speed of sound. The gun flew down the alley, smashing into the wall and bending grossly at the impact point the rock had hit.

"Well now, ain’t that just a damn shame?" Harold chuckled as Sparky landed at the back alley next to where the gun had landed. "Looks like we’re gonna have ta’ settle this, man ta’ man."

The boss shrieked a horrible high pitched scream as he raced at Harold. "You fucking son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!"

"You kin’ try, boy. Lesser men’ve failed."

As the boss took a swing right at the old man’s face, the man disappeared from his view, ducking down at an impossibly fast speed as he lightly flicked the boss right in the stomach, the impact blasting all the air out of his body, as well as his last three meals.

The boss stumbled backwards and collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as he screamed silently in his own mind, tears pouring down his face as terror overtook him.

"Naw, unlike the other two, ah ain’t gonna let’cha git off that easy, y’hear? Ye can’t go ‘n die like those other two… cuz I need ya ta’ send a message fer me." Harold leaned in above the man, lightly flicking him on the kneecap as a massive crunching sound sounded off in the alley. The boss howled in pain, the little bit of air he had sucked back in expelled just to release an animal-like sound, which quickly dialed back into a whimper as he found his body involuntarily rocking back and forth to try and disassociate itself from the pain.

"So ya better not forget it, boy, or I’ll be payin’ ya a visit…" Harold reached around into the thug’s back pocket and pulled out his wallet, plucking the driver’s license for himself. "…Marco Giovanni. I’ll jes keep this in case ah need ta know where ya live. Jes’ in case I need to pay ye a visit."

He grabbed hold of the thug’s head and pulled him in closely, whispering ominously in the petrified man’s ear. "You be sure’n tell your boss that these are mah streets now. This is mah turf, ‘n I don’t take kindly to anyone causin’ trouble."

The man nodded fiercely as he stuttered and stammered a guttural response. Before he could get anything out, Harold pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh, no words now, boy. You just sit there’n think about yer life choices. I’m gonna go ‘n have a nice cup o’ tea around the corner. You have a real nice day, and don’t ya ever forget what ah said."

Harold stood up, his demonic expression suddenly replaced with a cheerful grin. "Toodles!"

Walking off and whistling a merry tune, Harold and Sparky wandered around the corner to go and enjoy themselves a nice, well earned refresher.