by Paul Cude
As a strong gust of wind blew the gown down the street, like tumbleweed in a Western, Flash leapt into the busy flow of oncoming traffic, not having time to make for a crossing or wait for an appropriate gap. Cars slammed on their breaks, tyres squealed, horns honked in dismay at his outrageous attempt to reach the other side. Weaving in and out of the vehicles and their irate drivers in an attempt to reach the waste disposal centre, he knew there was no point in looking over his shoulder, his vivid imagination could already picture a dozen or so guards closing in, and that in itself was spurring him on to greater deeds. In fact, he was almost at full sprint, and considering his condition, that was the greatest deed of all.
Heart racing, his head thumped, while his legs pounded as he ran straight for the nearest door. A man was just exiting, and had opened the door right at the perfect moment.
"Hey!" shouted the man. "You can't go in there. It's off limits to all but staff."
But Flash had already darted through the door and disappeared around a corner.
Three bulky guards pursued him into the waste disposal centre. Not quite sure why they were chasing him, they figured he must have done something wrong, that and the fact he was now inside a deeply restricted area and clearly running from them.
Meanwhile, he was on the lookout for a huge industrial incinerator that he knew existed somewhere inside the facility. Buried somewhere deep within it was the emergency entrance to the dragon domain. If he was right, he was searching for an innocuous looking plate, that, if touched in the right place, would move for just the briefest of moments and allow a human shaped dragon back into the underground world. Undoubtedly, the inside of the incinerator would be extremely hot and dangerous, no doubt full of toxic gases, contaminated needles, and other hazardous medical waste. These things were why this particular entrance was regarded as an emergency only entrance, at least that was his understanding. Very few emergency entrances existed, because there were so many other ways of returning back underground. But some did, thank God. He'd never really given it much thought before, but he did today. He wouldn't have made it to another, that's for sure, and so this emergency one, if he ever found it, might just save his life.
A dark haired woman wearing a lab coat and holding a clip board stepped out in front of him from an office off to one side. Her frown quickly turned into an angry look as she pointed at him with her free hand.
"Who are you? What do you think you're doing?" she asked snootily. "You're not allowed in here, you know. Remain where you are while I contact security," she ordered.
In a strange way, Flash was impressed. Even in his weakened state, he was a good deal taller than she was; his strength must have been obvious, as his bulging muscles were clearly visible through the ripped sections of the thermal base layers he was wearing, and yet here she was, fierce and defiant, ordering him to keep still and wait.
'Impressive indeed,' he thought, standing only three feet from her. In different circumstances, he might have sought her out, got to know her. Unfortunately he really didn't have time for any of this, and much as it pained him to do it, and it really did, he had to take her out of the equation, now. Because of his training, he knew everything there was to know about human physiology. Every nerve, every muscle, every blood vessel, he knew them, more so than any other dragon, and even they knew an incredible amount. They had to, to perform and maintain the mantras that held their human disguises in place. But Flash and his fellow Crimson Guards had an altogether different knowledge. They knew where to strike a human to kill, maim, incapacitate or inflict the most pain possible. Humans across time had done all these things to each other, different factions claiming that they had more knowledge and were better at it than others, but the truth was, the understanding Flash had gained was far more intricate, detailed and dangerous than anything that had gone before it.
In the blink of an eye, Flash decided what had to be done, based purely on need, with the little voice in the back of his mind playing its part as well, urging him not to hurt this fiery little human too much. Quick as a... flash, he let go with the sharpest and strongest punch he could. It connected with the dark haired woman just below the temple. Before she hit the floor, Flash caught her in his arms. Lowering her gently to the cold, hard surface, he rolled her onto her side and checked her breathing, before deciding to procure her lab coat. Quickly whipping it off her, slipping his arms through the sleeves as far as they'd go (not very far), he then sprinted off further into the heart of the disposal centre. It was a reasonably sized place, and he was just guessing where he had to go, following his gut feeling if you like. Reaching a junction in the corridor, he stopped momentarily. Pausing to catch his breath and make a best guess about which direction he should go in next, he felt the hot stabbing pain of one of the spasms, start to creep up his back. Knowing time was of the essence, he darted left, the stolen, ill-fitting lab coat flapped about in his wake.
Meanwhile, the flurry of guards giving chase had found the unconscious woman on the floor of the corridor. A brilliant purple nebula bruise had just started to blossom out below her temple. One of the guards stayed with her, while the other two continued to give chase.
Flash found himself in a corridor that was considerably darker than all the others. Through a series of glass windows, he could make out a room up ahead with a lot of computer monitors in. If he was right, and he hoped to goodness that he was, this would be the control room for the incinerator. Slowing to a walk, he crept along one side of the corridor, sticking to the shadows, determined to confirm whether or not it was the control room before he entered it. While he could see some of the monitors from where he was, a large part of the room was still obscured. Assuming there were people working in there, how many, he just didn't know, pressing his sweaty head up against the glass, he looked at the bank of monitors nearest to him. It took only a few seconds to realise that this was indeed the control room, and by the looks of things, the incinerator was just cooling down from having been used.
'Perfect,' he thought, turning his back on the glass and the monitors. 'There should be some sort of access in the control room into the incinerator, even if it's just a maintenance hatch. All I have to do is overcome whoever is in the control room, use the hatch, and then BAM, I'm back in the dragon world.'
Taking a deep breath, pushing the nagging pain in his back aside, he decided to stroll into the room, size up the situation and then act... quickly, relying on the element of surprise and the fact that he could respond to the situation much faster than a roomful of human technicians. Keeping his head down, he strolled quickly down the corridor, turned right into the control room, all the time poised to act. On entering the windowless room, he found two people slumped over their keyboards right in front of him. Before he had time to figure out exactly what was going on, a rasping voice drifted out from behind a bank of computer servers that he'd already passed.
"I knew you'd head for this place. You dragons are so... predictable, just like the silly little humans."
Instantly, he whirled round, all the time aware of the nagging pain in his back. There, standing across the room from him, was a large, bald headed human, very tall and very strong from the looks of things, dressed in a green surgeon's gown similar to the one Flash had discarded earlier. All hope of returning to the dragon domain with the information he'd gleaned, seeped out of him. Clearly the human in front of him was no such thing, and was instead almost certainly a naga, here to destroy him.
"I thought from what I'd been told that you'd be so much... more," rasped the naga, chuckling just a little. "Apparently you've caused a significant amount of trouble, even killing some of my people; no mean feat. And yet here you are before me, weak and pitiful. No match for any of us really. It must have been luck. What do you say?"
For the first time in his entire life, Flash was speechless; he had no remark, no witty comments, no famous last words... nothing! All he could think of was how close he'd come to returning with the information, a
nd how he would never find out what was really going on.
Without warning, the naga sprinted towards him, diving at the very last moment. Despite all his training, Flash couldn't avoid the collision. It was as though he were wading through treacle, his arms and legs barely responding to his brain's commands. All he could do was make sure it was a glancing blow, rather than the full on contact the naga had hoped for. Gracefully, the naga rolled up onto its feet, while the contact sent Flash flying into a desk, smashing his head onto a large monitor that had subsequently fallen to the floor. Grinning confidently from across the room, the naga laughed.
'Do they all do that?' Flash thought, starting to get really disappointed.
Picking up one of the office chairs that littered the room, the naga hurled it in Flash's direction and then raced after it. At that exact same moment, the pain in Flash's back flared up, attacking every nerve, every sinew, every muscle he had. Immediately his legs gave way and he crumpled to the floor, which in a way was good, as the flying chair missed his head by about an inch, smashing loudly into the wall behind him. His right knee cried out in pain from the awkward landing, but with the pain in his back threatening to knock him out, he could devote it no attention. Then... the naga was upon him, straddled across his chest, raining punches down onto his face. Automatically, he flailed about, trying to deflect the onslaught of blows, but any concentration that he may have had was constantly interrupted by the excruciating pain inundating his back. At most, he was only a few seconds from death.
As the naga continued to pummel Flash, two bulky security guards careered around the corner, determined to intervene. With a bloody, bruised and barely conscious Flash lying in the middle of the floor, the naga turned its attention to the two new arrivals. Leaping up off Flash, the beast planted an expertly placed kick right into the kneecap of the first guard to challenge him, forcing the guard to cry out in pain as a loud crack reverberated around the room. As the guard doubled over, the naga followed up with a roundhouse kick that was so powerful it took the guard fully off his feet, throwing him over ten feet into the air, smashing into one of the room's computer servers housed in a glass case in the corner. Breaking glass exploded across the room, as brilliant blue electrical charges zapped across the server and the dead guard's body. With one down, the naga now turned its attention to the other, who had remained by the entrance to the room as it fought his colleague. Seemingly enjoying itself beyond belief, the naga beckoned with four fingers for the guard to bring it on.
Through all of this, Flash had only been able to catch glimpses of what was happening from his prone position on the floor, all the time wishing to God the pain in his back would subside, but it seemed to be worse than ever, showing absolutely no sign of abating. No matter how much he wanted to, and he did, he just simply couldn't move, and had resigned himself to watching yet another innocent human lose their life.
A terrified expression seemed ingrained on the guard's face, understandable really when you consider what he'd just witnessed, his friend and colleague tossed around like a rag doll, killed in cold blood. Running wasn't really an option, something the naga seemed to sense. Another short fight seemed inevitable.
Lying on the cold floor, the pain in Flash's back lessened just a touch, enough for him to experience the hurt from the other injuries he'd suffered. Blood poured from his broken nose and a cut above his left eye, flowing down the side of his face, pooling on the cold floor. His cheeks were cut, and probably broken. Despite all of this, a familiar sensation prickled at his senses, nagging away at him. It was taking all his effort to stay conscious, but there was something about this sensation, something important, something that could change everything.
Cautiously the security guard approached the very dangerous human being, a naga in disguise, who'd just killed his friend, baton in hand, ready to use. Laughing mercilessly at the guard's pitiful weapon, and wanting nothing more than to get back and finish Flash off, the naga made the conscious decision to get this over with... quickly.
'It may take up to ten seconds,' the beast thought arrogantly as it prepared to strike.
And strike it did. Using all its power and speed, it launched itself at the terrified guard in one all out, deadly assault. From his position on the floor, even Flash had difficulty in keeping up with the action. Lamb to the slaughter, the guard had absolutely no chance. As Flash forced himself to watch, sick and tired of all the bloodshed he'd seen on this mission, the single most bizarre thing happened. With the naga mid flight, about to tear his enemy in two, the expression on the guard's face abruptly changed from terrified to... smug.
'Odd,' wondered Flash through all of the pain. All of this happened in roughly three hundredths of a second, and while the prostrate Crimson Guard had no real love for what humans called Grand Prix, in that instant, he did at least appreciate how things could go from good to bad and vice versa in such a small amount of time.
Not having spotted his supposed victim's facial expression, if the beast had done, maybe it would have altered its tactics or at least felt a pang of fear. As it was, neither happened. If either had, it may have given the naga some kind of chance.
Hundredths of a second before it was about to make contact, the guard moved faster than any naga in history, bringing round his baton, and with the force of a small car, caught the beast full on in the throat, sending it tumbling head over heels across the room. The sound of the impact sent shivers racing down Flash's spine as he lay on the ground, agog. It was a sound that would have given him nightmares for years had he been human. Before the naga could even sit up, the guard, or as Flash had finally come to realise, the dragon... in human form, was on it. Much in the same way as the naga had pinned Flash down and pummelled him senseless, the guard was returning the favour. Flash breathed a sigh of relief, not just because the pain in his back had started to become manageable, but at the sight of one of his fellow dragons. Once the guard had beaten the naga unconscious, he bound its hands and legs with plastic binders from his belt. Only then did he cross the room to Flash, by which time the Crimson Guard had managed to sit up, albeit rather unsteadily. He looked a right state, blood covering his face and clothes, with bruises and cuts all over.
In the spirit of friendship the guard offered out his hand to Flash.
"Sorry that took so long and that I didn't arrive earlier. I was on the far side of the complex when I got the call about it. It wasn't until you left the north precinct that I realised you were... one of us. By then you were nearly here, and I had company in the shape of the two other guards. Anyway, I'm Simon Stock, King's Guard."
Flash grasped the offered hand lightly.
"Pleasure to meet you Simon," he said, clearly struggling with the pain. "Dendrik Ridge, Crimson Guards, thanks for the save."
"No problem," replied Simon. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"
Silently, Flash contemplated what to do. He couldn't tell Simon everything and yet he needed to know exactly what he was dealing with, and after all, he had just saved Flash's life.
"All I can really tell you is that our psychotic friend over there is a naga, a very dangerous one by the looks of things, and part of a much bigger picture, if you get my drift. It needs to be locked up... securely, with as few dragons as possible knowing about it. This is as important as it gets and I'm sorry I can't say more, but everything I've told you is in the strictest of confidence. I don't doubt the king will be in touch over the next day or so with instructions as to what to do with it. And now, I really have to get back below ground. London beckons. I need to meet with the king as soon as possible."
"I understand, I really do," added Simon, wondering quite where he was going to secure the naga. "If you sit still for two minutes, I'll fix your injuries."
"How long do we have before anyone else arrives?" Flash asked nervously.
"Could be any moment really, but don't worry, I'll sense them before they get too close."
"I need to get below ground... it's important
."
"Let me sort the worst of it out and we'll get you into the incinerator. It must be important if you're trying to use this entrance?" Simon enquired.
"More than you could ever begin to know," ventured Flash, as Simon started to cast his healing mantras.
Flash could feel the wounds on his face healing right up, the bones in his nose and cheeks knitting back together, the swelling above and around his eyes returning to normal, and the cuts that littered his lips and forehead binding, so that not even a single sign of the battering that he'd taken at the hands of the naga remained. Despite all of this, he felt absolutely rotten. Rather than coming and going, the pain in his back was constant, and felt like a raging fire burning him. Worryingly, that feeling had started to spread to other parts of his body, namely his arms and legs. As well, he just had no energy. I don't mean no energy to run, jump or swim. I mean he simply wanted to give up, curl up in a ball, never stand again, never take another pace, not possessing either the physical or mental energy to go on. Simon seemed to sense all of this as he continued healing Flash, and as well as healing all his wounds, offered up a significant amount of magical energy, something Flash gladly accepted, startling him out of his morbid thoughts, and producing a faint smile.
"Thank you," whispered Flash.
Abruptly, Simon stood up.
"They're coming," he uttered, a far off expression on his face. "We have to hurry."
Taking Simon's proffered hand, Flash let the other dragon help him to his feet and then followed him over to one side of the room. Pulling one of the undamaged computer servers aside, Simon revealed what looked like an old maintenance hatch.