== Dark before dawn == 

 The warehouse, run down and seemingly abandoned, stood surrounded by closed-down factories and deserted storefronts. Most of the streetlights in the area had long ago burned out, or had been busted, so that the only light shining on it came from a sickly-looking sickle moon. 

 The inside of it wasn't any better. One whole side was filled with half-rotten cardboard boxes, stacked floor to ceiling in derelict piles. Heavy tarps covered the broken windows, and flapped loosely against the night wind. Debris was spread out throughout the otherwise empty floor, except for a section that had been recently cleaned off. 

 There, slumped against a support beam and seemingly unconscious, was a man. A single chair was propped a few feet away in front of him, surrounded by a number of floor lamps. These were turned off at the moment, but extension cords led off towards the darkened wall. 

 The man's head lolled weakly.  

 A door opened on the far end, and three men entered. The one in the middle walked a couple of feet ahead of the others, and as he walked he swinged his arms to the sides, warming up. The other two dragged heavy-looking burlap bags behind them. 

  
 ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZFIRSTTHEYKICKTHELIVINGCRAPOUTOFHIMTHISTIMEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ 

  
 His head was yanked back, and he could smell the rancid breath of a gangster inches away from his face. He couldn't help but whince at the stench, a mix of cabbages and stale meat. He forced back the nausea and managed to stare into the bloodshot eyes. 

 - Not even a whimper. Good. I'll enjoy breaking you that much more.  

  

 XXXXXXXDONOTKNOWBUTYEAHTHEYDRUGGEDHIMANDBEATHIMUPANDTHENTHEYHITHERTOOXXXXXXXXXX 

  
 Her head spun from the blow, and blue spots danced in her eyes when she opened them, but she forced herself to keep them open and tried to focus her blurry eyesight on the mobster coming towards her, menacingly swinging the golf club. 

 - Wha's the matter, lil' girl? Can't cut it in the big boy leagues? Well how 'bout we set you up with a dis'bility handicap, eh? 

 She saw the club rise and tried to turn to air but she could not focus through the haze, and when it came down all she could do was force herself not to cry out. Pain flowed like white-hot liquid fire up her leg and into her head, burning away at her already thin grip of consciousness. 

 The world slowed down around her. She could still see the mobster in front of her, and see his lips move, but could no longer hear his taunts. Like a film in slow motion, she saw him raise the club once more and bring it down on her, but it really was like watching a film. It was not happening to her. She turned her head to look at Owain were he had been lying, still heavily drugged and bound to the beam. To her surprise she saw that he was now awake and had stood up, and now was straining desperately against his bonds, his eyes bulging and his face a mask of rage and desperation. Stupid git, he was just going to make his injuries that much worse. The cut in his forehead was still bleeding, the purple blood giving him a ghastly look. His mouth was open... was he shouting? She could not hear anything, only the deafening silence registered. And there were the other mobsters, too, the ones guarding Owain and who were now laughing openly at his anguish, handguns ready at their sides. Something moved in the periphery of her vision, and she turned back in time to see the club being raised once more, and knew that when it came down it would be the last time, and the darkness would finally take her. 

 She looked up, and stared at her attacker's eyes. She would not show fear. A memory of a line from a book she'd once read came to her mind, of all things. Something about living her second life as she looked at death in the face. Who was that from? It seemed appropriate, though. The club was now at the top of its trajectory, and the mobster's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he looked down on her. Still she held her gaze, defiant. 

 It was then that the mobster broke eye contact, turned to his right, and then slowly looked up. In an instant, his face went from surprise, to shock, to absolute terror. In her dreamlike state, she too turned to her left. The first thing she noticed was that Owain was no longer bound to the beam. He was also no longer in his real form, he'd finally managed to change and had grown and now the slavering jaws of a silvery white dragon were coming down on her attacker. The guards were shooting at him, but the bullets bounced off the scales that covered him and he ignored them, and biting down on her would-be murderer's head, he lifted him off his feet, and grabbing the legs with taloned claws he tore the mobster in three. 

 Blood, warm yet icy cold against her fe