Mattvey and his squad are cadets - youngsters training to become dragonslayers. After a brutal attack on the slayers' base, Mattvey's squad are thrown into a world they're not ready to defend.

Trapped by rubble and monsters, hope fades. As it does, a flame ignites to light the way.

That flame is an unhatched dragon egg.

“Right! Up! Down! Land! Takeoff! Hover!” the man shouted commands in quick succession at the boy in front of him. He was training in the art of flight, the boy’s first time in a full wingsuit - harness and semi-flexible wings made of light wood. The harness was attached to a thick wooden post.
“Roll! Loop! Stall! Bank!" no matter what command was thrown at him, Mattvey was able to follow it almost flawlessly. Behind them was the dragonslayers’ base, and behind that sprawled the city, under the siege of the monsters. Even in the dreary English autumn, they could be seen cruising like vultures around the buildings.
“Good, cadet. Now, land.”
Mattvey pulled the wings’ elevators down and slammed his boots into the grass, landing with a hard jolt and an ‘oof’. He saluted, bringing his hand above his heart. He felt his hand press his necklace into his chest - that rusting bullet that he always wore around his neck.
“Now,” the balding man hollered, voice hoarse, “go and join the other cadets back at the base!"
“Yes, sir!” Mattvey said, pulling his wingsuit off and running the half-mile down the valley to the concrete dome that served as the dragonslayers’ HQ. It was large enough to fit all forty squads of slayers and all seven of the cadet teams, but small enough to make it feel like a particularly unkept zoo. It was build into the hill, charred from dragon’s flames.
There were murmurs and tired greetings as Mattvey jogged into the main entrance, panting. The dragonslayers were sitting around in the lounge, still in their uniform and some wearing their harnesses. The rest of the cadets were presumably up in their rooms after an exhausting day of training.
Mattvey leaped up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The stairs, like the rest of the house, were metal-and-concrete, with harsh lighting that made the whole thing resemble a hospital or an asylum. The stairs were treacherous and steep and had probably claimed a few drunken lives.
Mattvey’s was one of the smaller teams, a team of five, that consisted of him, Luca, Ren, Alex, and Petra. Mattvey slunk inside, pulling the door shut quietly. Their room was barely big enough for a horse to turn around in, let alone for five rowdy cadets to live in. Their duvets - nothing more than rags on the floor - were laid out under the curved, grimy window.
“Hey, look. Girly’s back,” Petra looked up from her conversation with Ren, a wry smile on her face. Alex snickered from her perch on the windowsill.
Mattvey growled. “don’t call me girly,” his blonde hair came down to his shoulders, and his figure was somewhat feminine - skinny, with rounded hips. As if to confuse everyone more, he had a low voice and slightly toned muscles.
“H-how did it go?” Luca asked. He was almost identical to Ren, his twin, but he had a scar that ran from the underside of his chin down under his hoodie.
“Okay, I guess.” Mattvey said, slouching down beside Luca and putting his harness by the door.
Luca leaned down to Mattvey’s ear after everyone had turned back to whatever they had been doing.
“You kn-know the en-end of training exam-exams are coming up? I-I-I-I can barely f-fly...”
Mattvey gave him a look, “and you want me to teach you?”
“C-come on! You-you’re the best pilot I-I know! Please?”
Alex listened in on the conversation, her eyes not coming up from the scroll she was writing in Chinese.
“... fine,”
They spent the next hour-and-a-half in the dying daylight with Luca in the air learning how to fly like some kind of eagle. By the time the sun had fled the sky, Luca landed and tripped, coming to a halt on his hands and knees.
Mattvey helped him up, “there. Now you’re not going to fail,”
They weren’t so far from the city - one bad move, or a change in the wind, and the dragons would be there, attacking, with all of their flames. Though Base was reasonably well hidden, nestled into the hillside, it had been set on fire during raids multiple times.
“C’mon. We’re going to get a whipping if we’re not back in five!"
Mattvey pulled Luca along, down the hill, before one of the the wingtips of Luca’s fifteen metre wingspan caught the ground and sent him tumbling over and over. He skidded to a halt and the wings were broken, snapped and splintered. Luca groaned.
“Are you okay?!”
“N-no.” Luca inspected his right arm. There was a long, bleeding scratch down it, spewing blood onto the grass.
“Oh, crap.” Mattvey dragged Luca away from the wreckage of the wingsuit.
At present, they had two very bad outcomes of their situation - one, the dragons would smell Luca’s blood and come for the kill, or two, they survived the dragons only to be brutally murdered by one of the training staff. Wingsuits were expensive - balsa wood was hard to find, and leather had become rare after the dragons had developed a taste for flame-grilled steak.
“We-we’re going to get wh-whipped, right?” Luca asked, voice wavering. The punishments were hard for anyone - but with Luca’s mindset, they was positively torture.
“Shh. We might not,” Mattvey said between pants as they neared the house. It was almost completely dark by now, and freezing cold. The grass was wet, soaking through their boots, numbing their toes.
It was as if the dragonslayers could scent the mixture of fear, sweat, blood and guilt on the two cadets as they walked in. Elektra - a blue-haired punk - raised an eyebrow.
“What have you two been up to, huh?”
Luca blushed and looked away as Mattvey continued to drag him toward their room. As he rounded the corner to their room, he stopped like he had hit a brick wall. Luca bumped into his back and immediately saw why Mattvey had stopped.
Captain Wessex - the man in charge of their training - was standing, arms folded and brow furrowed, outside their door. He was a broad-shouldered man, with bulging muscles and a face that resembled a chopping board. Ren, Alex, and Petra were peeking out from behind him, eyes wide and intently set on what was about to unfold.
“Why aren’t you in your room?” his voice was dangerously calm, calculating.
“I-I-”
“Why aren’t you in your room?!” he shouted.
“I was teaching Luca to fly!” Mattvey yelled back, taking a hurried step back as the captain’s expression turned from rainy to thunderous.
“Don’t raise your tone with me, boy,” he snarled, “I was just about to give out your squad’s rations... but you all can wait until this time tomorrow - and you and Medici will receive a whipping. Where’s the wingsuit?”
Mattvey’s mind raced to come up with a lie. Something, anything -
“Where’s the wingsuit? Tell me!”
“I don’t have it anymore. We crashed.”
Captain Wessex seemed to grow about a foot in size, towering over Mattvey - and even Luca. His face was slowly turning purple, like he had just received a particularly foul insult, or eaten a three-week-old pie.
“Out. Out, now!”
Mattvey and Luca were frogmarched out like they were dogs in disgrace. They could feel the gaze of every single dragonslayer in the entire lounge staring at them. Some were filled with pity, others contempt - the rest mild amusement.
Outside the house were three wooden posts used for punishments. Mattvey and Luca were tied up, handcuffed.
“Wha-? What about the dragons?” Mattvey asked, eyes flitting to the heavens.
“Best not scream too loudly, then,”

I don't know how bad this is, so please give feedback and ect. about what you thought and  if I should post 02. :)