The city never slept. Its heart beat with the hum of broken engines, the hiss of rusted pipes, and the distant echo of sirens. Smoke curled from crumbling rooftops, mixing with the orange glow of streetlights and the faint smell of burning rubber. This was Greyhollow, more beast than city, a concrete jungle where only the ruthless thrived.

The skyline was jagged, shaped by half-finished towers and crooked power lines. Neon signs flickered like dying fireflies, blinking promises of fast cash and faster endings. Alleyways were veins of secrets, stained with blood and echoing with memories no one dared to speak aloud.

In the deepest part of this urban maze stood a boy, barefoot, bruised, but unbroken. Jeydon.

Born in a collapsing tenement and raised by the streets, Jeydon learned early that life in Greyhollow wasn’t about living. It was about surviving. His mother, a factory worker, vanished during a labor riot when he was seven. His father was a ghost from a story he never heard. By nine, he was running packages for dealers. By eleven, he was fighting in underground rings for scraps.

But what set Jeydon apart wasn’t just grit. It was the dragon.

A tattoo, inked by an old ex-con in the back of a pawn shop, stretched across his back. Deep red and black scales, claws like blades, eyes that burned even without light. It wasn’t just ink. It was a symbol. A warning. A destiny.

RB, calm and calculated, was the other half of the flame. Where Jeydon brought fire and fury, RB brought discipline and precision. A former street fighter trained in martial arts, RB had seen the ugliness of Greyhollow’s underground and chose loyalty over chaos. Together, they built Badburn not as leader and follower, but as brothers. Two dragons, breathing life into one cause.

Kiro, Jeydon’s younger brother, was still untouched by the full weight of the world. Quiet, curious, and bright, he represented the one thing Jeydon thought he had lost hope.

They lived in Sector Nine, a place the government pretended didn’t exist. Flooded streets. Broken lights. Rooftops turned into homes. Territory ruled not by law, but by names whispered in fear and respect. One of those names was Badburn.

But Badburn wasn’t just Jeydon and RB. At the heart of their rise were four warriors not just soldiers, but living legends in the making.

Zero was once a street orphan who didn’t speak for the first six years of his life. Silence became his weapon. He moved like smoke, struck like lightning. His eyes read people like open books, and his past taught him to trust few, love fewer. But Jeydon and RB gave him something no one else had a reason to fight for someone other than himself. His dragon tattoo shimmered in pale ash, a ghost that danced in and out of every battle before the enemy even realized they were bleeding.

Blitz was fire given form. Loud, aggressive, and unstoppable once the first punch landed. He was once a street racer, chased by cops and gangsters alike, until a crash left him for dead. Jeydon found him unconscious in a scrap yard and gave him a second life. Now, Blitz fights like every battle is his last not out of anger, but out of gratitude. His dragon is jagged and wild, red with sparks of gold. He doesn’t just fight. He explodes.

Reign came from a military bloodline but turned away from uniform and order. For him, strategy was an art. Every movement calculated. Every strike clean. He wasn’t born in Sector Nine he chose it. Left comfort behind to fight for something real. He speaks few words, but when he does, people listen. Reign’s dragon is blue, sleek, and coiled the storm before the strike.

Flare grew up in the fire of gang wars. She saw her home burned, her brother taken, and learned early that no one would save her. So she saved herself. Her fists became her voice, her fire became her identity. Flare joined Badburn not to belong but to fight alongside those who refused to bow. Her dragon glows in crimson and orange, wings spread like the fury she carries every time she steps into the fight.

Together, they were the frontline. The guardians. Not just muscle, but soul. RB trained them. Jeydon trusted them. They didn’t follow out of fear. They followed out of belief.

Before the city learned their names.

Before the betrayals and blood.

Before the dragons rose to claim the streets

It all began here.