“She drank enough sazerac to make it a personality trait, she was never late, and she was the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met. The world lost a hell of a human today. Following after Vivian Lang feels like muddling through the dark.” Cooper said as he scanned the room.

“Throughout her career she redefined what courage looked like. She was the first in her field— and the finest we’ve ever seen at SRT. Many people owe their lives to her. Myself included.

She said it would take an entity of epic proportions to stop her. One God to another.

My duty today is not only to pay my respects to Vivian Lang, but to debrief you on the latest threat.

A dragon has claimed the Montana sanctuary. Not a wyrm or a drake. It’s the real deal. Vivian led an initial raid— but its power is off our scale.” A ripple of shock went through the crowd of mourners. There was only one previous case on record where a full blooded dragon appeared— and that was in the early days over in Uzbekistan.

“The official statement is that the Montana sanctuary borders are being refortified. While their is work being done, it’s to ease the public.

This creature has left a message for the SRT.

‘All life that steps foot within my domain is forfeit.’

We estimate that the current range is just beyond the historical Western edge of the former state and to the capital area.

Butte must still have precious metals, because that’s where it’s made it’s den.

Glacier park has become its hunting grounds and the other creatures are scared enough to not contest. I called you here to mourn the loss of a great leader— and to call forth new ones. Who will stand with me to avenge Vivian Lang?”

The auditorium stayed silent for a beat.

Then a small hand rose near the back. A wave of encouraged arms swelled from there. Soon, Captain Cooper Hass was staring at a sea of them.

“That’s a good start. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Good luck and Gods bless.”

Cooper read over the report for the millionth time. There was no portal. The dragon didn’t manifest into the land. That was a bad sign. It meant it woke up. And anytime something that old woke up— the world burned.

Montana had already been a difficult area for the SRT to patrol. Ever since it’s creation in the 1970’s the Supernatural Response Team operated as a national protective service against supernatural threats.

Originally, the United States tried to keep its land. Ironic how well that went. It became clear after a series of supernatural based massacres that certain areas were too dangerous for humans.

The areas became known as “Sanctuaries” and any errant supernatural creature would be sheparded there by the nearest or most experienced SRT unit.

Montana became a sanctuary, northern Maine past Bangor, entirety of Utah was lost, and the southern part of Florida.

Gradually, as incidents went down, people forgot there were ghouls, werewolves, ghasts, goblins, etc living on the same continent as them. Humans stuck to the cities, the creatures stayed in the sanctuaries.

Most of the time.

You can’t stop the curious or stupid. But you can do your best to deter them. The fees for trespassing in a sanctuary made monopoly barons gasp. You did not fuck with the SRT or it’s efforts to protect you.

Rule number one: Don’t go into the sanctuaries.

Rule number two: Don’t even think about it.

Rule number three: Even if it looks cute, stay the hell away from it.

Bugaboo’s and will-o-wisps were responsible for the third one. Nasty little things. But he sure as hell would have tangled with either of us before dealing with a dragon. He had his affairs to get in order. Cooper was a confident man by nature, but you didn’t go against a force of nature without knowing the risk.