Beautiful Dragons: A Thriller

by Matthew James

  Without thought, Violet yanked Tattoo’s handgun free and put a bullet in his temple, timing it with the beat of the song playing around them. The pulsating music hid the gunshot’s report, keeping his death a secret.

  The next problem was what to do with her sisters. Violet knew that they could handle anything thrown their way. But the revelation of the unknown narcotic coursing its way through these guys’ bodies threw whatever sense she had out the window. The way the mission was supposed to end was for them to use the dead men’s firearms and shoot their way out.

  Unfortunately, the job was a bust.

  She needed to find her sisters.

  Half-naked, Violet threw open the door and marched down the hall. After only a few steps, she turned as someone yelled at her from behind. As she spun, she knelt and aimed her gun towards the end of the hall, squeezing off a single round. The 9mm bullet slammed into the guard stationed just outside the stairwell, spinning him to the floor. She got to her feet and went to the first door on her left. Opening it, she shuddered at what she saw.

  Pearl, the White Dragon, the second oldest, laid on the bed on her chest, facing the rear wall. Her target was dead on the floor, neck shredded and bleeding. Holding her breath, Violet was relieved to see that Pearl’s back was still rising and falling. She was alive but badly hurt. Not all the blood in the room was the dead man’s, however. The guy on the floor had done a number on her before he died.

  The door across the hall was the same.

  Jade was in bad shape.

  As was her twin sister, Indigo. Both looked like they’d gone the distance with a prizefighter. But both women were alive.

  The raven-haired “Jet,” the Black Dragon, was next and she wasn’t breathing at all...

  Tears streamed down Violet’s face as she greedily ran for the last door, kicking it open. Aiming her gun, she watched as the still alive man slit Ruby’s throat with her own knife. Ruby’s eyes locked onto Violet’s as she gasped for breath, gurgling on her blood.

  Screaming, Violet pulled the trigger and put a bullet between the smiling monster’s eyes, blowing out the back of his head. Running forward, she knelt at the foot of the bed as Ruby’s blood flowed freely over it. The Red Dragon was already pale as a ghost, staring into Violet’s—

  Just like that, Ruby’s eyes locked onto Violet’s forever. Through sobs, she reached for Ruby’s prized dagger, gripping its bloodied hilt hard.

  A gasp caught her attention, and she turned, holding Ruby with one arm. Her gun hand snapped up toward the voice’s owner, and she found a familiar, horribly-scarred face.

  “Yao?” she asked, confused.

  It’s not until he pulled a gun on her and fired that she understood why the man was there. He had sent the Beautiful Dragons information on the brothel the night before but wasn’t supposed to be on hand.

  He set them up, knowing the enhanced gang members would be the ones here tonight. It had to be the reason! Why else would he try and kill her now? He was their inside man within the Gilded Blade. His sister was taken and sold off by monsters like this. He vowed to do what he could to bring an end to the region’s slave trade, not further its evil.

  Something must have happened to her.

  She ducked, almost taking the round in the head. The gunshot unlocked the paralyzing effect Ruby’s death had on her mind, and she returned fire. She was happy to hear the coward cry out in pain, but she also heard his booted feet pound down the hallway. Leaving Ruby’s body behind, she made for the doorway—only to be greeted by automatic gunfire. The guards from below must have heard the commotion and come to check on things.

  Peeking around the door frame, Violet saw three men cautiously working their way down the dark, dank corridor. It would be impossible for them to find cover if she timed things correctly. Taking a deep breath, she forced her thoughts off the thrumming music, glanced at Ruby one last time, and stepped out into the fray.

  The three gunmen were naturally caught off guard by the mostly-naked, blood-covered woman standing before them. Like the trained killer she was, Violet snapped the gun up and put two bullets in each man. Unwavering, she moved forward. She needed to find Yao and kill him herself.

  With Ruby’s dagger.

  But she never got the chance.

  Yao came into view, stepping out from behind the cover of the stairwell doorway. He held something Violet recognized… Known throughout the underworld as an explosives expert for hire, Yao was about to put his proficiency for the science to the test.

  No!

  She raised her gun as he depressed the trigger.

  Violet tried to get a shot off but, instead, was thrown backward slamming into the wall at the other end of the hall. Through, warbling vision, she watched as all the rooms, one by one, blew apart from within.

  With the innocent girls and her sisters still inside them.

  Her eyes danced and her thoughts became clouded.

  The last thing she remembered was a handsome American kneeling beside her. He asked her who she was and she reflexively tried to cut his throat. But her arm gave out, as did her mind.

  4

  The House of Dragons

  18 Years Ago

  “No, no, no!” she shouted in disappointment, not anger. Ms. Cho never got angry, not even when they trained, like now. It was a treat for a girl of Rio’s background. Having the ability to be honest with someone without the risk of any backlash was a great feeling to have. Ms. Cho, a woman, for all Rio knew, had no first name, was tough, but caring. Thousands of girls like Rio had rough upbringings—or none at all—and Ms. Cho understood that, knowing how and when to push them.

  Each Dragon needed something different depending on their backgrounds.

  The youngest of seven other ladies, Rio was the runt of the litter and the lowest on the totem pole. But unlike a large portion of society, her new sisters treated her as an equal. The respect they showed her since first walking through those doors a year ago was something Rio never experienced before.

  Well, she didn’t exactly walk through those doors. Rio was caught trying to break into them and was quickly apprehended by the keeper of the home, a short and slender woman with kind eyes. Ms. Cho’s bob haircut framed her face perfectly, and her clothes were impeccably ironed and coordinated. She had all the signs of someone with money, maybe even nobility, but even there, pushed up against the door with a short sword to her throat, Rio knew the woman was kind.

  “What are you doing here, child?” Ms. Cho had barked, holding a wakizashi to the sixteen-year-old girl's neck. “You do not belong here!”

  Scared and with nothing to say, Rio stayed quiet. What could she possibly say to the woman that would make sense? She just tried to burglarize her home, thinking there was no one there. But the tiny woman had appeared from the shadows, moving like a shadowy ghost. Before Rio could react, she was in the situation she now found herself.

  She was about to die.

  But instead of simply cutting her throat, Ms. Cho leaned into her and sniffed, instantly releasing her. “The guest washroom is the first door on the right, down the main hall. You may clean yourself up and then find something to wear in Violet’s room across the corridor. She and the others are out and will not be back until morning.”

  “Wait…” Rio said, shocked, “you’re not calling the police?”

  Standing upright, Ms. Cho only smiled. “Would you like me to, child?”

  Bowing slightly, Rio showed the woman the respect she was apparently used to getting. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Rio walked away, stunned at the way the stranger treated her. She was as confused as ever.

  “Ms. Cho.”

  She turned to find the woman standing arms folded, blade hidden in the sleeves of her ornate kimono. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  The elder stepped forward, silently gliding across the marble floor. “You may call me, Ms. Cho.” She smiled. “And you are?”

  Rio bowed again. “My name is Rio Kim
ura.”

  Ms. Cho returned her posturing with her a bow of her own. “Go, my child. Give yourself a much-deserved soak.” She walked off but not before stopping again and speaking. “Then, we will get you something proper to eat.”

  Unsure of why she was being so nice, Rio cautiously moved off down the long hall, finding the washroom where Ms. Cho said it would be. She stepped through the door, closed it, and got a look at herself in the mirror.

  It’s what Ms. Cho saw.

  Rio was filthy, and in the sweet aroma of the home, she could smell herself. It was pretty obvious that she’d been living on the streets. Her cheekbones were sunken in just a pinch too, showing off her malnutrition.

  Who are the others? Who is Violet?

  She greedily stripped off her soiled clothes and shook with anticipation as the shower warmed. It had been so long since she felt what “clean” was like. The scent of jasmine tickled her nose and calmed her soul as she stepped in, sighing under the blissful waterfall. She couldn’t hold back her tears, letting them roll freely down her face. It had also been a long time since she allowed herself to cry. The only emotion she ever showed was anger.

  Rio didn’t know it at the time, but that night was the start of a new life. She would never leave after that. She wasn’t asked to stay but nor was she ever asked to go. And when the “others” showed up early the next morning, Rio was treated like she belonged to the group.

  The seven women stood at attention in a row and bowed, showing Rio the same respect that Ms. Cho had offered her. Seeing Rio dressed in a similar purple top, the oldest of the seven nodded to the newcomer, not at all upset at having her closet raided during the night. The women seemed to have no problem sharing with one another.

  Or with a stranger like me.

  The next morning, the group’s real purpose was explained, as were of their pasts, remembering stories of the colorful warriors from her childhood. Most didn’t believe the Beautiful Dragons existed, but Rio had secretly hoped they did. It was a childhood fantasy filled with hope and strength, something that was hard to come by when she was always alone and full of fear and sadness.

  “We are like you, Rio,” Violet explained while sitting out back with Rio. The property was in the woods and overlooked an enchanting valley complete with a serene lake. She stumbled upon the residence by accident, trying to evade the police. She instinctively cut through a densely wooded area to hide for the night, and it was there that she found the estate. “Whether we were lost, or in some cases, stolen, we now have a new lease on life. Our sisterhood is one of respect and—”

  “Killing?” Rio asked.

  Violet’s tired eyes dropped a little. “We do what we must in times like this, Rio. Diplomacy can only go so far when material things sway everyone. Money and power can buy almost anyone.” She looked away from Rio, her eyes returning to the view. “Some call us assassins. Others have deemed us freedom fighters—heroes even.” She smiled softly. “I like to think of us as something in between both.” Violet sat back and sighed. “When I leave this place, I hope to use my influences for good in the outside world. But…” Her voice trailed off.

  “But what?” Rio asked, unhappy to hear that Violet would soon be leaving. She had immediately taken to Rio.

  The assassin frowned. “I feel that the transition will not go as I hope. We are cut off from the world around us for a reason, Rio. There is an evil out there that has a way of poisoning people to their cores. You can call it whatever you want, but it attacks the mind and soul and convinces us to do things we would rather not.”

  “I know we just met,” Rio said, “but I have faith in you. I think you’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”

  Violet patted Rio’s hand. “I can see why Ms. Cho chose you. You are strong. You will be the greatest of us all. You see the good in everything.” Her eyes saddened. “Unfortunately, I can’t see it. Not anymore.”

  5

  Present Day

  “Ma’am?” The voice boomed like a gunshot in a metal room, reverberating harshly within her skull. She winced as she tried to open her eyes, but the pain was so bad that she couldn’t.

  “Um, ma’am, you okay?”

  She groaned at hearing the voice for a second time but recognized that it—he—was speaking English not Japanese. His accent was southern too from what she could tell. Not Texas-southern, but more like from Georgia or the Carolinas.

  “Headache…” she quietly replied in the same language. She was fluent in a number of them.

  “Not surprisin’. You took a good knock to the head.”

  She tried to open her eyes again and could barely see anything except the blurred figure sitting in front of her. She could also see that they were seated only a few feet apart from one another.

  “Explosion…” she mumbled, trying to remember.

  “A big one,” the voice’s owner sighed. “You were the only survivor from what we can tell. The whole buildin’ almost went up in flames.”

  Violet’s eyes snapped open, instantaneously forgetting about the discomfort. “What!”

  The man in front of her was wearing black slacks and a white tank top undershirt. He was armed with a shoulder-holstered pistol too. His face was one she recognized.

  “You’re him, aren’t you?”

  “If by ‘him’ you mean the devilishly-handsome hero who pulled you from that burnin’ buildin’, then yes, I am ‘him.’”

  Violet closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks. “My sisters…”

  “You had family in that whore house?”

  Her eyes opened and snapped up to his, filled with venom. “They weren’t whores!” She tried to get up and strangle the man to death, but couldn’t. She couldn’t move at all. It’s then Violet saw, and felt, why she couldn’t stand. She had been restrained. Her arms and legs were bound to a wooden chair with zip ties.

  “Who were they then?” the stranger asked. “You were dressed like one of them.” He leaned forward. “But I think you’re something more than that.” He stood. “We found you with an empty gun and a bloodied dagger. I’ve been in this business long enough to know a professional when I see one.”

  “You’re…a spy?” She asked, calming down some.

  “Sure, you can call me that,” he sat again. “Sounds a lot cooler—more James Bondy—than ‘government agent.’” He said the last two words with finger quotes, leaning back nonchalantly.

  “CIA?” she asked, sitting as upright as she could.

  “What do you think?” he asked with a cocky grin.

  “I think you’re a pompous asshole.”

  He grinned. “You might be right,” he reached under his left armpit and drew his gun, “but this asshole ain’t afraid to put the enemy in his, or her, grave. I have no problem killin’ you, my little lotus blossom—none.”

  He launched forward and shoved the barrel under her chin. Then, he grabbed her hair with his free hand and wrenched her head back. “I can be a gentleman when the situation calls for it—like not rapin’ you in your sleep like the bastards back at the Third Floor would do! I’m nice like that. I have morals.” He pulled her hair harder and shoved the gun in deeper. “But,” he continued, grinding his teeth, “I can be a real jerk off when I need to be.”

  He released his hold on her and walked away, breathing hard. He stopped, facing away from her, looking over his shoulder as she spoke up.

  “And which mood would you be in now?”

  He smiled and turned, having none of the maliciousness from just seconds before. “That all depends on you.” He holstered his gun. “I want to know what happened upstairs and why you, in particular, were there. I wasn’t told of a third party being involved, and now my informant has gone missin’ and—”

  Violet’s eyes opened wide.

  “What?” he asked, noticing.

  “Yao…”

  Now it was his turn to look shocked. “How do you know that name?”

  Coming around more and more, sh
e spat blood from her mouth and watched as it slapped the concrete floor. Before looking back over to her savior, she decided to take in her surroundings for the first time. They were in an empty warehouse—only them. As in, no one else.

  “He’s an old ally of sorts—not a friend by any means. He tried to shoot me before he blew the place to hell.”

  “Yao did that?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

  Violet nodded. “He did. I watched him press the trigger myself.”

  “Fuck!” Roman screamed, knocking a pair of water bottles from a nearby TV tray. He saw her staring at him and calmed, fixing his wavy, unkempt hair. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. “Sorry ’bout that. It’s my favorite four-letter word to use when I’m miffed.”

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  He breathed deep. “When I was born, my grams named me Roman—like the Catholics. You can call me the same.” He folded his strong arms over his chest and silently waited. “And you?”

  “I am called, Violet.”

  He grinned again.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  He sat down again and leaned on his knees, folding his hands under his chin. “The Violet Dragon.” She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re supposed to be a myth,” he added, “and you are much too young to be her. But alas, here you are.” She didn’t say anything. He continued. “We in the intelligence community have heard whispers of you and your associates over the decades. A team of beautiful killers with a unified purpose.” He smiled wide, looking like a fanboy and not a spy. “Until now, it was just hearsay and local folklore.”

  “It still is,” Violet said, softly. “I’m the only one left.”

  “And you being forty years too young to be her?”