by Paul Cude
Strolling out from the pathetic excuse of a bathroom, he wandered over to the window and gazed out over the rollercoaster layout that surrounded much of the car park, towards the mountains off in the distance beyond the sand drenched plains, dotted with towering electricity pylons. What a truly dreadful place this was, he thought, longing not for the icy wilderness that he thought of as home, but just a body of water, any amount of water... a creek, a lake, a reservoir... anything. Just not that godforsaken swimming pool that so many of the single businessmen had now decided to descend upon, forcing every female even thinking about a swim to scatter like bathers at the beach sighting a fin cutting through the water.
Watching tumbleweed tumble, and tiny grains of sand carried on the ever present breeze disperse in a multitude of directions, his thoughts turned to what he was here to do. He'd been tasked... no, ordered to bring Las Vegas, north of his current location, to its knees. How he went about this was left to his discretion, but that was what he'd been told. And he would carry out those orders to the letter.
Not at all like most of his race, he was an exceptional type of inventor, which was unusual in itself and caused him to be shunned by most like him, that is until they wanted something only he could achieve, he who could combine magic and technology like no one else on the planet. Nothing was beyond his means. Possibility was only held in check by how far his imagination stretched. Quite far, as luck would have it. Turning away from the window, he strolled across the beer stained carpet, all the time ignoring the smell, to the singular table adjacent to the breakfast bar. Opening the dark duffel bag, he reached in and pulled out a shiny silver tube, about fifty centimetres long and four centimetres in diameter. Spinning it round in his hands, he admired it from every possible angle, occasionally taking pride in his false reflection in the window. It was a marvel of technology, even by his standards, and had taken him nearly six months to fully develop the idea and turn it into a functioning prototype. Well, five functioning prototypes, to be exact. Over the last week, he'd planted the other four in what he hoped were strategic points circling the city of Las Vegas.
The first he'd hidden in a tyre yard in Pahrump, off to the west. Having scouted the location during daylight hours, it had been no great shakes to break in at night and hide the seismic shocker (that was the name he'd come up with for the devices) amidst the looming tyre towers. Even if they were looking for it, nobody would have a hope in hell of finding it. He was quite proud of that.
The second had seem him slip on his hiking boots and head out onto a little used mountain trail east of St George which itself was east of Las Vegas. The walk was exhausting, but paid dividends. He'd found the perfect place to bury the next shocker. Once again pride ran through him at the thought that nobody would find where he'd put it. It was almost the perfect crime, although nothing untoward had come about so far.
Next he moved on to India Springs north of the gambling metropolis, but not before spending a day recovering from his exertions on the mountain trail, back in his hotel in St George. Sunburn had been something of a problem. Of course he could have magically adjusted his form with just a few words and removed it, but others had seen him on his return and so lying low for a day seemed the appropriate resolution. He'd gotten away with it and learned a valuable lesson for the future with that one. He'd cleverly buried the third shocker beneath a lonely Joshua tree on the outskirts of town, having taken a walk with all of his human photography kit. Nothing too unusual in that.
For the fourth shocker, he'd crept up through the mountains in the pitch black, not such a difficult task enhanced by his magical legacy. Over the course of half the night, he'd snuck into a huge solar farm south east of Vegas and, using some magnets of his own design, had attached the shocker to the back of one of the tens of thousands of solar panels at random. The odds of anyone finding it before it was used were astronomical... lottery winning odds in fact.
And so here he was in Primm, looking to locate the last of the five seismic shockers and get the hell out of dodge before setting his cunning plan in motion, via a cell phone, from a long, long way away. Having had a good look around on his way into town, he'd examined and then discarded a few locations already. There'd been a fountain directly outside one of the filling stations. It didn't look as though anyone would pay too much attention to it, but he couldn't be sure and so had opted for something else. There'd been quite a bit of vegetation surrounding most of the parking lots and malls, all of which he could have used, but still he couldn't settle. It was only when he pulled into the hotel lot and saw the rollercoaster track surrounding half the hotel, that he knew he'd found the answer. And so that's what he settled on. Under the cover of dark he'd take a walk, claiming that he needed to clear his head. And then using some of his own magnets, he'd attach the last seismic shocker to part of the roller coaster. It should blend in seamlessly with all the other metallic elements of the design. Once far enough away in a few days' time, he'd dial in using the number only he knew, setting off the magic which, when combined with the technology, would cause ground quake after ground quake, powerful enough to do some serious damage to the world's number one gambling city, spreading fear, chaos and confusion throughout. Las Vegas wouldn't know what had hit it.
19 Malevolent Majestic Maniac
Slumped forward, balanced precariously on the edge of unconsciousness, the faintest of sounds, getting ever so slightly louder, made his ears prick up like prey fearful of a predator. Shaking his head, hoping to rid himself of the cloying fuzziness that seemed a constant companion since he'd been shackled, he wondered whose footsteps he could hear approaching, and if indeed his time was finally up. Sitting up as straight as he could, not knowing what to expect, shooting streaks of pain blossomed down his neck and across both his shoulders as he struggled against the weight of Tim, who, from the sound of it, was fast asleep. What he wouldn't give for that. Eyes glued to the corner from which the footfalls were fast approaching, mentally he steeled himself for what was about to come. In reality, it did little to prepare him for this. HER!
Cloaked in a shimmering, dark brown dress that sparkled like diamonds in places, he was inexplicably drawn to her overgrown fingernails and the matching polish that adorned them. Thoughts of her drawing blood across his neck outside the council building in front of the huge army flooded his consciousness. Her words startled him out of one nightmare and very much into another.
"Ahhhh... the king's little pet. Lovely!"
Behind his back, he could feel his arms start to shake, as Tim's soft snoring tickled his ears. For a split second he hoped his friend, the White Dragon, would stay asleep for as long as possible, avoiding the terror he himself was currently experiencing.
Leaning casually against the wall, delicately tracing the purple crisscrossing lines of magical madness across her face with one of her extensive fingernails, Manson's queen surveyed the two prisoners in front of her, fully aware of the effect she was having on the one that was awake.
"Substantial injuries you have there. It's a shame, really, that you can't access your magic. Just a tiny sliver is all that's needed."
Through the mist in his head and the pain from his binders, he found it hard to ignore her goading, knowing full well the extent of his injuries and just how much of a mess his face and body must be. So instead of barking out the first retort that jumped up into his head, he just looked on, wondering what the point of her visit was. Perhaps she was just bored, and her sadistic nature needed some amusement. Well he wasn't going to bite... so to speak. He would sit, watch, ignore and take it, even if it meant a beating or worse, something that seemed almost impossible given his current state. A tiny part of him thought about provoking her... stoking her rage, nudging her into a frenzy in the hope that she would get it over with quickly, rather than face the long, lingering, torturous death he was sure Manson had planned for him. But hidden away beneath all the layers of pain, hurt, frustration and self pity, there was still some fight left, bolster
ed by a determination to see his friends once more, no matter what the cost. And at the back of all of that, burned a light shining brightly, bottled up, kept under wraps, out of the way, for fear of it being discovered: his feelings for JANICE! He knew it was best this way. It was unlikely that they would betray him, but these beings... he had no idea of the extent of their powers. Rumours of creatures able to read thoughts, delve inside another's mind, rummage around and extract information at will, had been around since the beginning of time, but who knew the very real possibilities of this new fighting force? If there was even the remotest chance that they could do this, then he knew he had to keep the memories buried, safe... away from prying eyes, or rather, minds.
"Locking away all your secrets?" she ventured.
Swallowing nervously, he wondered exactly what he'd given away.
"You are an odd one," she announced, padding carefully forward. "I can't yet figure out what an all-powerful being like the king would want with something so weak and pitiful."
Not for the first time... he assumed this was it. In some ways it would be a relief, if it weren't for his friends. He already felt that he'd let them down... particularly Richie, who he knew was somewhere on the surface, blissfully unaware of her true identity, her true heritage, and would suffer the same fate as the rest of humanity when the time came. It broke his heart, because he wasn't able to see a way out, not even a fighting chance for the king and whoever he had alongside him. Not against these odds.
Kneeling down, the fetid aroma of her breath brushed against his face as she leaned in close and whispered,
"I don't suppose you'd like to enlighten me about your relationship with the dragon monarch?"
Tears had built up behind his eyes over the course of the last few seconds, ready to burst through the flimsy dam holding them back, at any moment. Unsure of quite why his relationship with the king was so important, he didn't really care that much. All he knew was that they wanted to know, and that in not giving in, he could fight back and show in his own private way, just how strong he really was. And so even though the tears burst through, he remained stoic, his expression not wavering, all thoughts of giving in gone, despite the fact that her face hovered less than an inch away from his.
As fate looked on, smirking at this particularly bizarre turn of events, even by her standards, something unexplained sat hanging over proceedings, something breathtakingly obvious but to the two of them, as both beings watched one another. Not so much tense, as an air of anticipation, if you'd asked Peter how long it had lasted... it could have been anything... days, weeks, a lifetime. It was, however, more likely a minute, no longer. Without warning, Earth got silently to her feet, filled with more questions than answers. Of course she could have extracted them from him the hard way. But something... something nagging at the back of her mind was holding her back, the same something that had drawn her here, now. Not able to recognise it for what it truly was, almost certainly clouded by the madness in her mind, she skulked back to find her love, keen on an update on exactly when the world would be theirs.
20 Strawberry Blonde... Really?
Slipping through the fires, sticking to the shadows, Steel and the rest of the staff from the medical centre crept ever forward through the capital, avoiding trouble wherever possible. Through shared magic, enhanced senses allowed the small band of mainly nervous dragons to skirt encounters with fearsome dark dragons and parties of raiding nagas.
Skulking around half a dozen blazing fires, longing for the warm embrace the flickering flames promised, the tight knit group, led by the fearless laminium ball player, ducked into the still smouldering wreckage of a row of shops. Abruptly Steel raised his right arm, clenched fist in the air for all to see. Each and every one of them stopped still in total silence, their magical abilities heightened, on the lookout for the slightest hint of danger. From between two huge mounds of twisted metal stepped an almighty ginger coloured dragon, dancing balls of brilliant, bright green electrical energy charging and crackling away in both of his hands, ready to be used in an instant. With words to his shield mantra at the forefront of his mind, ready to be cast into being immediately, Steel stepped forward, almost offering himself up in an effort to protect those who had chosen his leadership.
Confident that he could not only singlehandedly dispel the ginger dragon's magic, but also take him down if need be, it was then that the cool rush of air washed over him, kicking his dragon danger sense into overdrive. Landing with a muffled thump, having been skulking high up above between a pair of blackened, burning rafters, a squat, angry looking dragon, a snarl of epic proportions carved into his face, appeared off to one side, two massive balls of raging fire rotating ominously, one in each hand. Magic pumping through what felt like an almost new body, Steel considered his response in less time than one flap of a hummingbird's wings.
Over the course of the last eight hours, they'd seen what they considered the enemy on numerous occasions. Nagas similar to the ones that had invaded the medical centre seemed almost commonplace, along with unusual feeling dragons, armed with odd looking bastard swords, each one brandished with a terrifying darkened sunburst on his or her body. Both ambushers here, although clearly presenting a threat, looked nothing like the other forces they'd encountered. That in itself was enough for him to take the chance. Throwing his arms up in the air and wings open wide in a gesture of submission, he still retained those words for the shield mantra, ready to cast it in but a fraction of a moment.
"Hold fire. We're not your enemy," whispered Steel, much to the surprise of those cowering behind him.
"I very much doubt that!" growled the tetchy little dragon off to one side, the magic in his hands crackling and spitting furiously.
"Hang on a minute," declared the well built ginger dragon taking two steps forward. "I know you. You're that laminium ball player. The captain..."
"STEEL!" Steel announced, hoping to diffuse the somewhat tricky situation sooner rather than later.
"That's right," added 'Ginger'. "What in hell's name are you doing here?"
"It's a long story," replied Steel, "but the gist of it is that the medical centre we were all in was attacked by an unknown force and so after taking them down, this is where we find ourselves. Ultimately we're looking to find out exactly what's going on and see if there's anything we can do to help. You?"
'Ginger', clearly the friendlier of the two, answered for them both.
"As is not untypical for us, we'd had a hard night on the sauce and as far as we can work out, we passed out in the cellar of an abandoned shop... something that, from the look of things, probably saved our lives. On coming round, we spent days clearing collapsed rubble away from the only exit, almost succumbing to dehydration. In the nick of time we managed to get out, only to find our beloved capital city in this state. Since then we've salvaged and hidden, avoiding clusters of those terrible beings wherever possible, desperate to get out, but the entire city seems to be in lockdown. You're the first true dragons we've encountered... alive, anyway. Vicious groups of marauding dragons are everywhere, all armed with the same murderous looking weapons. At first we thought them to be the King's Guard, but that was before we witnessed them slaughter a group of defenceless female dragons. Since then, we've given them a wider berth than the slithering reptiles. And so here we are, skulking, hiding, determined not to get caught."
Gritting his teeth, forcing down a smile... he just had to ask.
"Ummmm... and the... nail polish?"
Scared out of their wits at the turn of events, and only there because of Steel, the group of staff from the medical centre all at once looked down at the ginger dragon's talons. Sure enough, bright pink and yellow paint intricately covered each and every one of 'Ginger's' razor sharp talons, making it look as though he'd had not just a day's free pass to the nail salon, but a week's.
Preparing to scrutinise 'Ginger's' response, out of the corner of his left eye Steel just caught the faintest of smirks from his p
ent up partner.
'This should be good, by the look of things,' he mused.
"Huhhhh," sighed 'Ginger', realising he had nowhere to go and that his partner clearly wasn't going to come to his aid.
"Well... you see, DomCon here," he said, motioning to the full-of-rage, stunted looking dragon, off to one side, "and I are members of a sandskimming club and often spend time socialising with the ladies' teams there. What I failed to mention in my previous account, and the reason that I was in such bad shape, was that very stupidly after finishing drinking with DomCon (the full-of-rage dragon) I decided to continue drinking with a small, hardcore group of females. All I can remember after that is being escorted back to the cellar by them, where DomCon had told us he would be. On eventually waking up, not only did I have the hangover to end all hangovers, but I'd been made up to the 'nines'. We've managed to get most of it off, but despite searching high and low over the last few days, nowhere can we find any nail polish remover. It would seem, for the moment, I'm stuck with it."
"Female dragons... eh? They sound like absolute monsters."
"You don't know the half of it," uttered 'Ginger', his partner tittering in the background.
"So what's your story... short stop?" enquired Steel.
DomCon just gazed at the ground, unable to make eye contact with the confident laminium ball captain.
Sensing that things would go no further until this group learned the truth, 'Ginger' stepped in, hoping to spare his friend at least a little misery.
"Dom the Con came about because of a suspended jail sentence imposed after two King's Guards caught him at the scene of a supposed burglary. He maintains that he was only walking past the 'Pink Flamingo' bar, minding his own business at 3am in the morning when... 'SMASH!' the entire frontage, including the massive window and frame, came crashing down into the street for no apparent reason. Both King's Guards on patrol nearby arrived at the scene to find Dom here peering suspiciously inside the gaping chasm that was once a window, clutching a number of inflatable flamingos that had been used as window dressing, firmly to his chest. Once questioned, he claimed that he was just tidying them up, waiting for the authorities to arrive. Because nothing valuable was taken, his jail sentence was commuted, although still to this day he maintains that the whole thing just happened without him touching anything. So from then on, he became known as DomtheCon which soon became just DomCon."
