Cannon breathed in through his large nostrils. He felt his belly boiling with heat. Six to ten men were shooting at him, so he swirled to line them up. Cannon closed his eyes, his dragon lips bursting with blisters.
They were going to die a most painful death. He opened his mouth, seizing his stomach muscles to shoot fire that had stirred within him for what felt like thousands of years. It burned as it shot through his throat, but he didn’t care. The men began to scream and flee when they realized what was happening. They quickly caught fire and fell to the ground, their piercing cries music to Cannon’s ears.
He turned a few times to ensure that the men were dead. They had ceased moving and were nothing than more than fleshy pink bags of meat.
Cannon, tracing the path of the chopper, c
