Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Earth's surface. Salisbridge, United Kingdom.

  It wasn't what you knew, or who you knew, it was what you knew about who you knew, and that had never been more obvious than when applied to what was happening here today.

  Under the watchful eye of the cathedral's magnificent, ancient spire some way off in the distance, vast, heavy machinery had been brought in to clear the huge amount of rubble that covered the enormous sports club site. Over the last few days, against all odds, working around the clock, they'd done all of it. It had been a heroic effort by everyone involved, but then it should have been, given the extraordinary amount of money they were all being paid, courtesy of the man financing the whole rebuilding effort... Al Garrett. In reality, it should have been impossible to get all this done in such a short time frame, but in Salisbridge, Garrett was THE man, and if he wanted something done, generally he got his wish In this case his connections on the city and county council paid dividends, most of them owing him huge favours, with one particular councillor having to be reminded of a certain dubious incident that involved a notorious madam, adult nappies, an oversized cot and a dummy laced with gin. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't Garrett himself that got his hands dirty, but it was mightily effective in granting all the licences he needed, as well as helping him avoid a whole tickertape parade of red tape. And so it came to be that in the brilliant, bright sunlight of a cloudless, blue sky, the first of the new foundations for the enhanced, feature packed new sports clubhouse, was about to be laid. A small gathering including the mayor, local and county councillors, the chairman of the sports club and various committee members of each sporting section, as well as Garrett himself, had all come down to witness the groundbreaking moment. In reality it wasn't really much, just some concrete poured into a hole, but it was the sentiment that mattered. Washing away memories of the old clubhouse and the viciousness with which it had been destroyed, replacing all of those and the building itself with something contemporary that would hopefully become a family friendly, community environment for all to use, was Garrett's hope and greatest wish, not really because of the time and money he'd invested in the project, but because of the promise he'd made to Peter. That thought right there sent his mind spiralling off in a dozen different directions, primarily just how worried he was about the two youngsters who had disappeared... Peter Bentwhistle and Richie Rump. It was so unlike both of them, and most worrying. Of course he'd used some of his unofficial resources in an effort to track them down, with very little success. It was almost as if they'd dropped off the face of the planet. How was that even possible in this time of social media and big brother, nanny state policing, he wondered. Racking his brain for what to do next, his train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the mayor began his speech.

  "Honoured friends, we are gathered here today..."

  One text journeying through the ether, directed to three separate locations all within spitting distance of each other, started the chaos, mayhem, destruction and unprecedented loss of life in the heart of the medieval city that, for the most part, kept itself to itself. Three rip-roaring explosions, one from beneath the innocuous looking seat, one located amongst the long grass against the cathedral's wall and one centred on a high ledge, discharged with the full force of the military grade explosive that had been used, disintegrating everything contained within the minster, including the huge crowds of tourists that had come from across the globe to visit, all the superb stained glass windows, the famous clock which was amongst some of the oldest working in the world, all the sacred texts and of course, each and every wall. In no time at all, the full force of the detonation tore across the outside of the grounds, indiscriminately murdering men, women and children of all ages, races and religions. As if that explosive force and the wave of debris weren't bad enough, the main attraction started to come crashing down in all its glory. One hundred and twenty three metres high, the iconic spire, octagonal in shape, the tallest in Britain, now without any support or foundation, hurtled towards the ground, the full force of its towering weight behind it. Those few that had momentarily survived the initial blast, praised their luck and their God, ecstatic at being able to pull in another breath. Deities, luck and, more importantly, fate had other ideas, as over forty thousand tons of stone belonging to the rest of the building and its spire collapsed on top of the devastation that had already been caused, with an almighty BOOM, shaking the entire city to its core, throwing up a cloud of smoke and particulates into the air, triggering an unmatched, concentric wave of concussive force that shredded through everything in its way, taking out many of the surrounding buildings in the famous Close in which it was situated. Spontaneous fires burst into being as gas lines split. Surrounding buildings, not only in the Close but the city itself, wobbled precariously, some toppling to the ground, others staying upright just long enough for their inhabitants to escape out into the open. A surge of flotsam and jetsam carried along on the air by the force from the detonation extended out across the water meadows as rivers burst their banks, sheep ran amok and trees were flattened like pancakes. Anarchy and disorder the likes of which the city had never seen sparked into being. Residents, shoppers and tourists alike all ran towards the outskirts, one key thing cemented in their mind... SURVIVAL! Bedlam and mayhem ensued, as planned, turning the city into a scene from a war ravaged battle zone.

  BOOM!...

  Every head immediately turned away from the mayor in the direction of the city centre, as the mud shook beneath their feet and the freshly poured concrete rippled in disgust. A collective gasp reverberated through the air as they all watched the medieval spire in the distance collapse. A second BANG rumbled across the air, not quite as loud as the first, though still causing the ground to tremble. Exclamations of horror and shock at what they'd just witnessed were quick to ring around the ground.

  "Oh my God!"

  "What in the name of..."

  "Aaaaahhhhhh..."

  "I can't believe it!"

  "Sweet mother of Jesus..."

  Watching in absolute disgust as a cloud of grey engulfed what had only moments before been the pride of the city, Garrett kept his counsel and offered a silent prayer to those he knew would have been inside the cathedral itself, and in and around the immediate vicinity. Wondering who the hell would commit such a heinous act of aggression, the industry leader decided it would be best to leave as quickly as possible and get back to Cropptech with a view to finding out more and supporting the staff he knew would be crushed by what had just happened. Excusing himself from the startled congregation, he marched swiftly towards his car, noting that Fred, the man at the wheel, had already started the engine for him. Sliding out into the main road in the direction of the Cropptech main site, Garrett couldn't fault his driver for wanting to get a move on. One thing he knew for sure was that he'd feel much safer once he got to his office.

  41 Steeling Fleet Street Back From the Enemy

  A ring of towering, gigantic, lighthouse-like structures stretching up into the darkness, the tops of which were higher than any dragon could see, the buildings themselves constructed from conglomerate, with white, egg-like stone protruding from a yellow, sandy layer: subterranean Fleet Street was a marvel to behold. Or at least it would have been if not for the surrounding devastation, burning pyres of decapitated dragons and the throat scorching, nose blocking, eye wateringly thick, acrid black smoke that permeated everything. Nausea inducing might be the best way to describe the smoke, but it had at least one benefit. As a means of cover, it was almost second to none, something that should pay dividends in allowing the three dragons to get as close as possible to their intended target without being spotted.

  Moving his head from side to side before stretching out his wings once or twice, Steel couldn't shake the uneasiness he'd been feeling since the details of the mission had been agreed upon. It wasn't so much the plan, but the thought of flying into what had now been turned into a compound. Before the laminium ball bomb and his dice with d
eath, flying was his thing and he doubted there was anyone better at it than him. It felt as though it was the only reason he'd been put on the planet... to fly. But now he wasn't so sure. His experience and the logical part of his mind told him that he'd be fine and it would be exactly as it had been before. But this new body felt supple where it should not give, thin and less protective where it should be thick and strong. Not really wanting to take to the air, he'd argued that sneaking in from the ground, just like his reconnoitre, was the best way to push forward. Of course the master mantra maker had gone on to describe in perfect detail just how they could use the sickly black smog to cover their descent into the compound, making a compelling case with which the others totally agreed. In reality, he did too, it was just the whole flying thing that he was reluctant to do. Continuing to stretch his calf muscles, realising that the eyes of their whole force were upon him, he knew he wouldn't be able to put off the moment for much longer. This was it, it was now or never. So facing his newly found fear head on, he stopped stretching, marched forcefully over to Jar Man and DomCon, who were both chatting to Gee Tee, and firmly announced,

  "It's time. Let's do it!"

  Nodding their agreement, the little and large of the dragon world waited to follow the famed laminium ball captain's lead.

  "Good luck!" remarked the master mantra maker.

  "To us all," replied Steel, bending his knees before fully revealing his wings.

  In a single bound, the recently healed dragon took to the air, disappearing in no time at all into the thick blackness of the air above them. Not wanting to lose their de facto leader, Jar Man bolted after him, quickly followed by DomCon who was by now fully focused on the deadly mission ahead.

  Inside that brilliant, complicated and sometimes selfish brain of his, Gee Tee hoped for nothing more than to see the three of them once again. But he knew the risks of what they had planned and very much doubted fate would be so kind.

  Both long time pals had immediately caught up with their newly found friend and leader and were now circling at quite a rate, hot on his tail, quite literally, with Jar Man only a mere metre or so in his wake, and DomCon just behind his buddy. From where they were, it was practically impossible to know precisely how high up they were flying and exactly where the ground was. But both now trusted Steel with their lives. That was just the kind of dragon he was, able to inspire in seconds, pull other dragons along by the scruffs of their necks and make them all feel wanted and part of the team. He was... extraordinary.

  Exhilarating didn't begin to do it justice. Oh how he'd missed this. Being at one with the air... even this air, with all the toxins, pollutants and smoke, it made his heart leap up into his mouth, sent a chill of excitement along his tail, and made his scales tingle. For the first time since he'd woken up in that medical facility, he actually felt... alive!

  Mind back to the matter at hand, and using his laminium ball experience, he reached out with all his magical senses trying to get a picture of the ground and his surroundings, despite only being able to see ten or so metres in front of him. He knew he was roughly in the right place, because they'd circled up and over one of the lighthouse-like buildings, carefully concealing themselves behind the acrid black smog at the time, before dropping slowly into what he believed was the middle of the compound. This was where he'd seen and evaded the patrolling guards and the two higher ups, when he'd gone in alone on the ground. And this was where he'd hoped to drop in through the cover and gain the advantage of surprise, but his enhanced senses were currently providing him with very little in the way of help. So cutting back on the speed, he brought his tail down and his head up, cutting their level of descent, and continued in the huge arc, hoping to hell that he would spot the enemy long before they spotted him.

  Exactly to plan, that's how their assault on this part of the city had gone. Charged with taking Fleet Street and the priceless crystal node that controls the flow of information across the world, the two of them had followed their orders to the letter, knowing that any deviation, no matter how small, would probably see Manson cut their life expectancy considerably. But it was done, and now it was just a matter of keeping it safe, not that they expected any kind of coherent resistance. Strolling through the darkness with his partner, occasionally flicking through to his night vision, just to make sure there were no unwanted guests, he puffed out his chest, proud of the job he was doing, awaiting his role in the new world order that wouldn't be long in coming. If only he'd bothered to look up.

  Blowing out a huge mouthful of the toxic air, he fought off the urge to cough that presented a very real hazard. At that exact moment, his head and belly broke through the pungent clouds that had been caused by the dark horde ravaging the land, dropping into a night time like darkness, one where at least he was able to see some distance. But of course, so could his adversaries.

  With the tip of his friend's tail almost flapping in his face, and concentrating fully on the mission, the rage within him threatened to spill over. It was all he could do to keep it under wraps. What on earth had they been thinking, joining up with this merry band of suicidal delinquents? DomCon was a dragon who found it hard to express his feelings, instead relying mainly on his friend to speak for them both. But what he lacked in coming forward, he more than made up for in fight. Although he found it hard to make new friends, he was fiercely protective of those that he regarded as such and would, without question, lay down his life in an instant to keep them safe. Now was not just one of those times, but the mother of all those times if these beings were to be believed, and he could see no reason why they shouldn't. But going into the compound almost blind didn't sit well with him. What he did know though, was that his friend and comrade, Jar Man, was going to go with or without him, and that was the crux of the matter. Honour, pride, friendship and a sense of duty wouldn't allow him to let his buddy go on his own. So here he was, about to descend into goodness knows what, in the hope of taking on a ridiculous human shape, in an effort to fool a collective enemy into thinking he was one of them. Brave or stupid, he had no idea which, he just longed for things to be over and return to normal. Part of him even missed the flamingo jokes, but there was no way he'd ever let anyone know that.

  Trying their best to walk softly across the debris from the destruction that had taken place during their capture of Fleet Street itself, both ape shaped infiltrators tiptoed around some of the bigger stuff, eager to show those beneath them in the chain of command just how guard duty should be done. In all honesty, they preferred it out here, to being back in the temporary headquarters they'd set up, right next to the main crystal node. It was quiet, peaceful even, and they didn't have to deal with any of the complaints from the other dragons (let me tell you, there were quite a few) as well as those otherworldly serpents, the nagas who were... well, strange to say the least, and that very frightening woman. The further away from them, the better, as far as they were both concerned. Slinking around what remained of a humungous bronze statue, of who they couldn't have cared less, the strangest feeling of imminent doom encompassed both of them. Only then did it occur to them to look up. And so they did.

  Poking through the thick, dark layers of cloud caused by the many fires blazing all around them, they could just make out a calculating prehistoric head, followed rapidly by a matching belly and a razor-sharp set of talons. About to reach out with his mind and raise the alarm, abruptly they were both hit by a barrage of psychic energy that Steel had unleashed the instant he'd spotted them. And a good job too.

  Crushed firmly to the ground momentarily, disorientated, the two stumbled to their feet, much quicker than the laminium ball captain had anticipated. Worried about the sound from the scuffle travelling and the arrival of reinforcements, Steel landed softly between the pair of them, readying mantras at the forefront of his mind, knowing exactly how to silence them both. Before he had the chance they were upon him, using some kind of shared magic to pin him in place, battering him mentally with an array of unr
ecognisable spells. Unable to combat such despicable teamwork, Steel dropped clumsily to his knees, all the while trying to block out the telepathic onslaught that was currently aimed in his direction. Although not ideal, the situation had turned into something of a blessing, because both of the human shapes, having more than a degree of success against their one lone attacker, had forgotten all about summoning any help, clearly of the belief that they were more than a match for the kamikaze dragon that had dropped in upon them from above. And their overconfidence allowed Jar Man, and DomCon to sweep down from behind and take each of them out in one swift move, both catching the human shaped bodies before they even thought of touching the ground. Changing from dragon to human on the run, all the time still holding on to their prisoners, Jar Man and DomCon retreated as far into the darkness as possible, ably followed by Steel who was still struggling a little from the attack that he'd just suffered. Close to one corner of the compound, the trio had little choice but to take the lives of their two adversaries. It wasn't pleasant, and there was a long, awkward pause in the run up to doing it. In the end, it was DomCon that stepped up, garrotting both of the infiltrators' throats with a finely sculpted piece of wire he'd acquired from the master mantra maker before they'd left.

  "Where the hell did you get that?" whispered Jar Man, stunned at what his friend had just done.

  "Does it matter? Let's just move on," was the frank and rather dour reply.

  "It had to be done," chipped in Steel, placing his hand firmly on DomCon's shoulder. "Good work, but there'll be worse to come if we're to get through this."

  Both dragons nodded in agreement as they hurriedly changed into their victims' clothes. Sixty seconds later and it was done. The corpses had been hidden behind what was left of a wall, the surrounding rubble used to cover them up completely. It wasn't perfect, but someone would have to get awfully close to notice anything out of place. And so with DomCon wrapping the garrotte around his neck, firmly out of sight below his newly gained jumper, the two put the fake binders Gee Tee had somehow come up with around the wrists of the mighty Steel and, as one, they set off in the dark towards the headquarters, knowing that scores of their enemies lay in waiting.