by Paul Cude
'It will be absolutely fantastic,' he mused, bounding upstairs to don his hockey kit.
Training itself turned out to be pretty uneventful. Only just managing to take part in all the exercises, at the end he'd been absolutely exhausted. Judging by how he felt, his injuries, despite their physical appearance or lack of it, had nowhere near healed. Throughout the session, his teammates all told him how good it was to have him back, along with a number of players from some of the other teams, with him almost constantly being patted on the back and cheered in some way, shape or form. As he entered the bar afterwards, he was bombarded by people wanting to buy him a drink. As it was, Andy, the second team captain, had already done so, and handed him a pint of diet Pepsi, seemingly before he could even catch his breath. Thanking his captain for the drink, Peter scanned the bar for any sign of his friends. Unable to see either, he did catch sight of Janice behind the bar, grinning inanely at him. Smiling back, he caused her to blush and turn away sharply. His stomach started doing somersaults.
'What's that all about?' he wondered. Spotting Tank standing up from a table full of boisterous rugby players, he waved at his friend, who headed immediately in his direction. Weaving through the increasingly crowded bar, Tank clapped his friend on the back and smiled.
"Evening Tiny," mocked Tank, raising a pint of lager in Peter's direction.
Gazing up into the ever grinning face of his friend, Peter asked,
"How was training?"
"Ohh, you know, the same old thing. Some bugger kicked me right in the..." Tank paused as a whole gaggle of lacrosse ladies walked straight past them towards the bar, "... box," finished Tank, altering what he was going to say, not wanting to offend anyone nearby. Peter chuckled at his friend's manners.
"Don't worry," whispered Tank slyly. "I got my own back in the scrum. Bet you can't guess which bugger it was?" he said, gesturing with his head over towards the table full of rugby players. Peter scrutinized the table, coming up blank, that is until a tall, wiry, brown haired player that he'd never seen before turned round to answer somebody's question. The player was sporting the biggest black eye he'd ever seen. If there had been any female pandas in the vicinity, they would most certainly have considered him mating material. Shaking his head, he turned back to his friend.
"Not very sporting," he remarked, raising his eyebrows.
"Believe you me," replied Tank, "his kick was about as deliberate as they come. I think if you join a new club, coming in kicking and screaming with an attitude like that, you deserve everything you get."
Peter nodded his agreement. Just as he was about to voice his approval, he got a sharp, playful, smack on his bum. Knowing full well who it was before even turning, he shook his head and turned to face Richie with his tongue poking right out. Richie ignored her friend's outstretched tongue.
"Hello lads. Holding your own committee meeting?"
"Very funny," answered Tank, taking a great big slurp of his drink.
"Hi Rich, how are you?" Peter managed to babble with his tongue still fully extended.
"Put it away will you. How old are you?"
"Nearly fifty three," Peter murmured softly.
All three of them laughed simultaneously.
"Guys," whispered Peter, conspiratorially. "I've got something really important to tell you." This captured their attention. "Let's sit down first," he put in, guiding them to an out of the way table in the corner of the room. Sitting down, they all leant into the middle to hear what was so important.
"I received a message from the king earlier." Huge gaping mouths and wide eyes were the order of the moment for both Richie and Tank. "He's invited us all to his private residence on Sunday morning. How amazing is that?"
Tank's face lit up like a bonfire dowsed in petrol.
"That's just brilliant," he replied jubilantly.
Richie's face remained stoic. Peter couldn't read her at all.
"What do you think Rich?"
"I'm really sorry, I can't make it. I have something else on I'm afraid."
Peter shot back so fast, he nearly fell off his chair.
"WHAT?" he practically shouted. Half the huge bar suddenly stopped at Peter's sudden outburst. Instantly embarrassed, he quietly apologised and turned back to face his friends, as the noise in the bar returned to its previous level.
"What do you mean you've got something else on? You're kidding... right?"
"Sorry," responded Richie, quietly. "I've already made plans with Tim I'm afraid."
"Can't you change them?"
"Sorry no. You boys go, I'm sure you'll have a good time without me," and with that, she got up and left the table, rejoining the lacrosse girls she'd been training with.
Peter sat open mouthed. Tank let out a long breath, before wrapping one of his big arms around his friend.
"Don't worry. It'll be alright."
"Who wouldn't want to go and meet the king at his private residence?" whispered Peter.
Tank pointed out,
"You already know why."
"Tim," ventured Peter.
"Hmmmm," Tank agreed.
Taking a huge gulp of his drink, Peter tried to let go of his disappointment, instantly brightening up when he realised he hadn't told Tank everything.
"Uhhhh Tank."
"Yes buddy."
"There was something else in the message."
"Go on."
"The invitation is for Gee Tee as well."
"Really?" commented Tank, a little taken aback.
"Do you think he'll want to go?"
"Can dragon poo reach speeds of over one hundred and fifty miles an hour?"
Peter knew the answer to this. It was definitely YES!
"Of course he'll want to go! Ever since I recounted what happened at your bedside at the hospital, and extended the king's thanks to him, all he's gone on about is the king. He'll be tickled pink, purple, indigo and blue, I should think."
Peter was relieved. Explaining that Richie had turned down his invitation was one thing, telling him that Gee Tee wasn't going either was something he just didn't think he could cope with.
"Well, we all need to be there at 9am on Sunday."
"No problem," stated Tank. "I'll go and collect Gee Tee and make sure he gets there on time. That way I can make sure he's taken all of his medication, and looks as smart as possible."
Peter smiled at the thought of Tank hurrying Gee Tee along and trying to make him look respectable, almost believing he had the easier job of telling the king that Richie had turned his invitation down, rather than get Gee Tee anywhere on time.
Continuing to talk about their respective sports for another ten minutes or so, the two friends then decided it was getting late, and was time to head home. Peter grabbed their empty glasses and returned them to the deserted bar. Suddenly Janice appeared from beneath, having been stocking up some of the empty shelves.
"Thank you," she announced, in a high pitched, squeaky kind of voice, as Peter put the glasses down on the bar.
"You're welcome, he replied smiling. "Anyway, see you later," he said, about to turn and head towards the exit.
"Ummm... Peter?" giggled Janice, squeakily.
"Yes," he replied, turning back towards her.
Tank shook his head, not believing what he was seeing.
"I'll see you both later," he said, patting Peter on the back as he made his way out of the clubhouse.
Peter waved his friend off, bemused, before turning back and facing the bubbly blonde behind the bar, who was smiling radiantly at him.
"I... um... don't... suppose you would like to go to... go to the... cinema to catch a film some time, would you?" asked the gorgeous young bar worker, nervously.
'There's that feeling again,' he thought, as his stomach started putting on its own gymnastic display, while at the same time both his legs had decided to turn to jelly. 'How odd,' he contemplated, gazing straight into Janice's beautiful face.
"That would be great," he replie
d, more confidently than he felt.
"I'm not working this Friday," she announced sweetly. "How about then?"
"Sure," he answered, still concerned with what his body was doing, and more importantly, why.
"Shall I meet you outside of the cinema at say... 7pm?"
"That would be great. I'll see you then," he replied.
"It's a date," announced Janice, before scooping up the empty glasses and scuttling off behind the bar somewhere to wash them.
Turning and heading out into the car park, the freezing cold air hit him like a champion boxer's punch. Climbing into his car, his stomach continued its acrobatics routine all the way home, gradually fading sometime later. Falling into bed after having a shower, he drifted off thinking about his misbehaving body, his last thought reflecting on whether or not it was somehow faulty. Then the darkness claimed him, until morning anyhow.
* * *
Running as fast as he could through the snow as it crunched softly beneath his feet, Flash had no time to spare now. Quite literally he was on a timer. Having squeezed himself through a narrow gap in the rocky overhang, he was approaching Casey Station from a very different direction to the one where the damaged skidoo and the bodies of the nagas lay. Wearing the light blue matching coat and thermal trousers from one of the despicable nagas, alongside his own boots, he'd found a pair of reflective snow goggles attached to the damaged skidoo before he'd fled. Despite the fact that he was moving as fast as he could through the thick snow, he was being as careful as he possibly could because he wanted to try and approach the station without anyone spotting him, thinking he might be able to do just that, even though he stood out more than a little in his all blue outfit against the background of the bright, white surrounding snow. While he'd been on top of the rocky overhang earlier, waiting for anything unusual to happen, he'd noticed that the station itself appeared to have a bit of a blind spot off to one side. At the time he hadn't thought too much about it, but at the moment he was hoping that it would help get him back into the station unnoticed. If he was to take down the last remaining naga, surprise was going to have to play a big part, particularly with the way he was feeling right now. His back constantly caused him pain, and intermittently, a wave of additional, unexpected agony would hit like a steamroller, causing him to fall to his knees and cry. As every second passed these waves became stronger and more frequent. In trying different mantras he'd wasted more of his valuable magical energy reserves, but none seemed to have any effect on the debilitating wound.
About two hundred yards away from one of the outbuildings, right on the perimeter of the base, he wondered what he was going to do if he came across any of the station's staff. Certainly not wanting to kill or even harm any of them, as they'd only shown him kindness, his mission had now taken on much more urgency, with his priority being to get a message out to the dragons, ideally to the king himself, especially as there may be a traitor within the ranks of the council. Whatever was going on needed to be investigated urgently. A sudden wave of pain blossomed out from the centre of his back, like ripples in a pond dropping him like a stone. Concentrating on staying conscious, while flailing about in the fresh snow, after a minute or so the pain passed. Flash sat up and as his head spun out of control, wished he hadn't. For the first time, he realised he was sweating profusely and had a high fever. Whether it had been there all along and he'd overlooked it, or whether it had just come to the forefront of his body during the last painful attack, he had no idea. What he did know was that time was running out, and he had to deal with the remaining naga with a view to getting out of this frozen nightmare.
Pulling his goggles above the furry lining of his jacket, he took a handful of snow and covered his hot sweaty face with it, for once relishing the delight of the cold. Grabbing another handful of snow, he forced it into his mouth and down his throat, not before it had sent unbelievable spikes of pain surging along his front row of teeth. Breath freezing in the cold air, he cursed out loud. Beads of ice cold water streamed down his neck and chest beneath the layers of clothing that he wore, forcing him awake, making him carry on with his mission. Continuing to march through the snow, he made it to the back of the nearest building without any trouble. Carefully peeking around the corner, he found he had a clear view of the base. At the moment, no one was outside, but he still had to make it across a large area to reach the nearest entrance that would take him into the accommodation block that he'd been assigned to. In his room were a few other things packed away that might just help him. It was probably too much to hope for that the nagas hadn't searched all of his kit thoroughly, but they might just have missed what he was looking for. The downside in going back to his room was that the naga leader might well be watching the place, in case of such an event.
'Still,' he thought, patting the two outer pockets of his snow jacket, 'at least I've got the two pistols, as well as all the ammunition, and one of them has a silencer on it, which might prove more than a little handy the way things are going.'
Taking the second of the two phones out of his jacket, he checked the timer that was counting down. Seven minutes until the naga found out he was close by. Slipping the phone back into place, he decided that the best way to cross the open space was to just walk casually, as you would if you were a normal member of the Casey staff just going about your business. Setting off at not quite a walk, but not a run either, he was supposed to look like another person keen to come in from the relentless cold. Rubbing his gloved hands together, he made sure before he started that the combination of reflective goggles and fur lined hood concealed his identity fully. Reaching the entrance without incident, he passed through the thick door as quickly and quietly as he could. Once inside he stopped, leaning against the wall, catching his breath, letting his body be assaulted by the warm, circulating air, which felt so good against his exposed skin. It seemed like a lifetime since he'd been out of the cold. Without any warning, his back went into meltdown once again. All his gathered strength prevented him from crying out as he slid down the cream coloured wall and the tears started to fill up the reflective goggles. Silently he prayed that nobody would stumble across him while he was in this state, or the secret about him being back would be well and truly blown.
Two minutes later he climbed to his feet, peering around the corner that joined the adjacent corridor which led to his room. With the furry hood on his jacket down and his goggles resting atop his sweaty hair, he walked confidently down the corridor, all his senses alert for anything out of the ordinary. Having no idea who the leader of the nagas was, only that he or she was most certainly on the base, gave Flash the creeps, with him finding it hard to believe that his room wasn't under surveillance, in case of an unlikely return. A beep from the phone in his pocked caused him to quicken his pace. Whipping it out as he stepped through the open door and into an alcove that had three rooms attached to it, he looked down at the timer as he stood just outside the three closed doors. With the display showing 48 seconds, he knew that the mess he'd made out by the rocky overhang was about to be cleared up. In less than a minute, a diversion of devastating proportions was about to present itself, all of Flash's own making.
Before leaving the site of the ruined skidoo, he'd piled up all the equipment he couldn't use or carry, along with the bodies of the human shaped nagas, around the ruined vehicle. Siphoning as much petrol as he could from its fuel tank, he'd covered the immediate area before priming the explosives the nagas had been carrying. Attaching the explosives to the face of the overhang for greater effect, knowing that when they went off, it would bring down hundreds of tons of rocks onto the skidoo itself, he covered any trace of what had really gone on, with the petrol residue helping to make a half decent explosion, that combined with the rock itself should devastate the whole area. Because it wasn't that far out from Casey Station, it should, if everything went to plan, cause a very nice diversion. While doing all of this, he'd had to use up more of his magical energy, casting a mantra that would l
ink the timer on the phone and the primer on the explosives. The mantra itself was relatively simple and foolproof; any dragon with a year's worth of mantra training would be able to cast it successfully, with the only weak link in the whole thing being the timer on the phone. If for some reason that failed, then the phone wouldn't pass the small charge from itself to the primer and the explosives would fail to detonate. Flash glanced down at the phone before returning it to his pocket. In less than ten seconds he'd know if the whole thing had worked. With his hand poised on the handle of the door to his room, his human shaped heart thumped just that little bit harder in his ears.
Seconds later, Flash wasn't disappointed. The sound of the explosion was impressive to say the least. It echoed throughout the whole facility. Turning the door handle silently, he moved swiftly into the room, one hand on the pistol with the silencer in his pocket. A quick look confirmed there was no one lying in wait for him; the room appeared to be exactly as he'd left it, but he didn't believe for one minute that one of the nagas hadn't been through it at some point in the time he'd been away. Pulling one of his giant kit bags out from beside the bed, he could hear chaos in all the adjoining parts of the base. An alarm was ringing somewhere close by, with plenty of footsteps running down the main corridor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened up one of the side zips of his huge bag. Delving into the deepest recesses of the pocket, he felt what he'd come back for. Pulling out the small, black, zipped bag, he swiftly opened it up to check that it hadn't been tampered with. Inside the bag was a seemingly brand new blood sugar monitor that diabetic humans use to help them control their condition. In the middle of the bag sat the monitor itself, alongside a sealed container of test strips and most importantly of all, the lancet pen that contained sharp needles to pierce the skin so that a drop of blood could be obtained and dropped onto the test strips. So convincing was the kit, that it would easily fool any human diabetic, or specialist diabetic doctor or nurse, come to that. All was not as it appeared though. It was in fact, something the geniuses at the equipment development lab had set up specifically to support the Crimson Guards, just like the watch he'd been wearing when he'd arrived. The lancet pen in the kit was in fact a specially disguised storage device. Not just any kind of storage device, it has to be said, but one for compressed magical energy, mana, whatever you like to call it. Used correctly, the pen could take the energy from a dragon at a time when they had no need for it, and store it indefinitely until it was required. Flash always made sure the pen was topped up and ready to be used. By turning the top of the pen that swapped between different needle lengths, a certain combination would allow the compressed magical energy to become attached to one of the needles, and instead of pricking a finger to extract a small amount of blood, the device would instantly inject the user with all the compressed mana it held.