by Gabe Hudson
She opens a circular hatch in the wall and looks at me. I stand there naked holding my WarWings uniform, and I take a long meaningful look at Metheldra in the flickering candlelight.
“Let us in! Open this door at once!” bellows the guard at the door.
“What were you going to tell me?” I whisper. “The other thing you were going to tell me. How I can get a Queen. And if it has to do with that chick Peekaboo, I don’t want to hear it. I’m not there yet. I haven’t given up on my first choice, Runcita Floop.”
Metheldra shoves me through the hatch into darkness.
“Runcita,” she whispers, “she’s in the gymnasium right now. Back on Central Campus. You’ll find Runcita there. And then you can ask her to be your Queen. Your BIOCON LEVS should be higher now, after my treatments. Now go! There’s no time! Hasten!”
And with that she slams the hatch shut and I’m surrounded by total darkness.
[ 36 ]
THAT HEARTSHRINKER SWORD IS A MIRACLE
I climb up out of the hatch and there I am, squatting near the gated entrance to the Institute where I was before.
Everything Metheldra told me has been true.
So I unfurl my wings and flap them twice and set out flying through the jungle back to Central Campus. That dragoness Metheldra might be a little deranged but she is a total maestro when it comes to her blades. I mean there’s no way I can deny the newfound sense of strength and power. My heart definitely feels smaller, shriveled, shrunken. Insignificant.
It feels glorious to pound my wings like this and work off all the crazy building up inside me. Whizzing through the jungle. And I’m flying as fast as I possibly can because I want to get back to the WarWings gymnasium. And I can definitely feel the new astronomical levels of WTP coursing through me from all that swordupuncture.
My God. That HeartShrinker sword is a real miracle worker.
Glance down at powerstaff. FLIGHT SPEED at 238 MPH.
WILL TO POWER has exploded. FangBanger.
So I fly my scaly ass a couple miles through the jungle. And I’m almost back to Central Campus when off to my right I hear a swoosh noise.
As I turn to look, a massive powerstaff swings out from behind a tree and strikes me between the eyes.
Whack.
When I open my eyes, I’ve got the worst headache of my life. And I can feel my blood pounding in my dome and for a second I get real worried that my skull is going to explode.
Then I look up and see that maniac dragon Rexro squatting here over me.
Great. Just what I need.
Now squatting alongside Rexro is one of his WarWings Security Commando dragon goons. I groan and reach up with my talons and feel a giant bump on my skull from where this dragon Rexro has whacked me with his powerstaff.
“Hey boss,” growls the Commando dragon, “he’s coming around! He’s waking up! Hey boss! Looky!”
That’s when I notice something is off. Because Rexro and his Commando fiend are upside down. And I wonder if Rexro’s mighty crack to my skull has shattered my neural pathways, given me brain damage.
Then I twist around and look up and see these two fool dragons have strung me upside down from a tree branch. I’m upside down there with my leathery wings hanging limp off my back, and I am slowly twirling in circles.
So that explains why my head’s throbbing like a bastard.
“Well well well,” says Rexro. “Looks like this little birdie flew too far from his nest!”
The fiend next to him starts giggling hideously and snorting blacksmoke out his nostrils.
Fortunately for me, I have a secret. Because what these two fools don’t know is that at this moment I just so happen to be rocking a FangBanger. And what else these two dragons don’t know is I just had forty or so swords jammed in me up to the hilt and now my BIOCON LEVS are so high I ought to be registered as a lethal weapon.
Not only that, my wounded black heart has recently shriveled up to the size of a raisin.
So I reach for my powerstaff on my utility belt and prepare to chop these dragon bastards’ heads off with my laserblade.
What?
My talons grasp around on my utility belt but my powerstaff isn’t there. The holster is empty.
Crap.
“Hey boss. What should we do with him? Huh? What should we do with him?”
“That’s an excellent question,” snarls Rexro. “Now let me see. Mmmm. What should we do with him?”
Meanwhile I’m focused on locating my powerstaff. If I can just find it. I mean it has to be around here somewhere. And as I twirl around upside down, my hooded eyes light upon my powerstaff in the tall grass where it must’ve fallen when they grabbed me.
Aha.
Now as I slowly twirl upside down I strain and reach my talons out for my powerstaff. Because if I can just get my powerstaff, I know with my shrunken heart and my new BIOCON LEVS I can chop off these dragons’ extremities in a jiffy. And the flesh flies will pick their scaly corpses clean before anyone even notices they are missing. Now the hot sun overhead is beating down on us, and I keep reaching for my powerstaff, and the rope tied around my webbed foot creaks under the strain of my weight.
“Let’s kill ’im and eat ’im, boss,” says the security goon. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat!”
I spread my black claws out and strain and use all my powers and you can see the biokinetic currents crackling from the tips of my claws to my powerstaff there in the grass.
Come on.
Just a little bit more.
There you go.
Now the powerstaff trembles in the grass. Then it hops over a couple inches in my direction and leaps up into the air and straight into my talon with a reassuring smack sound. It’s the most glorious feeling. I close my claws around the handle.
I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I’ve got—
The powerstaff tumbles out of my talon.
Oh God.
Now that ruthless tyrant Rexro steps forward and rakes his toe claws across my scaly green snout and I feel the blood well up in the fresh cuts and start trickling down my beak.
“That,” says Rexro, as he reaches out to steady the rope I’m hanging from, “is for blasting my cage with a firestream. You little sonuvabitch. I oughta kill you right now.”
Then Rexro’s Security Commando dragon blasts a firestream at the ground and instantly a massive fire is going right there in front of us.
“Looky there, boss! I made a fire! Now let’s cook ’im over the fire and eat ’im! I’m hungry, boss!”
Rexro conks him over the head with his powerstaff.
“Ouch!” snarls the security goon, cradling his scaly green head with his talons. “Whatdya do that for, boss?”
“Shut up, you idiot!” snarls Rexro. “Do you know who this is? This is Dr. Terrible’s grandson. The Dean said for me to fetch him back alive. Because the Dean wants to execute him out on the campus quad. Make an example of him. Maybe even lure Dr. Terrible out of hiding, case he wants to try and rescue his grandson.”
“Oh goody! Oh goody! Oh goody!”
Then Rexro looks down at me and snarls, “Today’s your lucky day, cadet. Normally I’d just eat you and be done with it. But Dean Floop says he wants to execute you himself. So that’s how we’re gonna play this! I am to take you to his lair right this minute!”
I feel my heart sink at the mention of Dean Floop’s name. Because the Dean’s lair is legend at WarWings, and for as long as anybody can remember, every cadet who enters the Dean’s lair has a nasty habit of ending up on the business end of a firestream. Or being eaten.
Now this big dragon Rexro yanks me down from the tree and I collapse in the dirt in a heap. Then Rexro binds my wings and forelimbs with flexcuffs. He throws me in some sort of bag and takes off flying through the jungle with me inside the bag, slung over his shoulder. It seems like he’s purposefully banging me against every single tree trunk he flies by.
Bam.
Bam.
Bam.
I feel myself coming in and out of consciousness. And I can hear Rexro’s massive leathery wings thumping through the air as we fly forward.
Where is my Queen?
[ 37 ]
DEAN FLOOP’S HIDEOUS LAIR
From the moment I’m tossed into the Dean’s lair, it is obvious he’s going to kill me.
I stand up and dust myself off. I’m still dizzy and bruised from Rexro’s rough handling of me, and it seems like there are a million throbbing knots all over my scaly ass from getting bounced against those tree trunks on the flight over.
Well this monstrous dragon Dean Floop doesn’t seem too overwhelmed with joy at the sight of me, that’s for sure. In fact when I first stand up inside his lair, Dean Floop turns his back to me and starts lashing his green tail around. And I can’t help but wonder if the Dean has turned his back to me because he doesn’t want me to see him wearing the eye patch over the socket where Dr. Terrible blinded him last night.
Now the Dean’s lair is glorious, I won’t lie. I mean the joint is overflowing with mountains of gold and diamonds and jewels. And there are skulls everywhere. He has all sorts of strange creatures’ heads mounted on the walls, from all the planets he’s conquered and all the hunting safaris he’s gone on throughout the universe.
Anyway, there’s a lone wooden chair set out in the middle of the Dean’s lair, and I stroll over to it. The Dean keeps his back to me.
“Nice of you to drop in, Gork,” he says. “Please don’t take a seat.”
I stop my rear haunch an inch away from the chair and straighten all the way back up.
Somewhere in the lair I hear a creature whimper and drag its chains across the floor.
The Dean belches up a thunderous firestream that shakes the lair and makes the walls quake. “How are you feeling today, Gork?” he snarls. “I hope Rexro wasn’t too rough with you?”
“No sir. I’m fine, sir.”
“Here,” he says. “Catch.”
My powerstaff comes sailing across the lair, rocketing right at me. I hold up my talon.
Smack.
“I have some good news for you, Gork. It’s come to my attention you would like to take my daughter Runcita to EggHarvest. And I am here to tell you that my daughter has agreed to be your Queen. Perhaps you saw the two of us discussing the matter in the corridor earlier? I believe you did. I saw you there.”
I just squat here like a jerk with my black beak hanging wide open. Not quite believing what I’m hearing. And yet I did see this scaly old dragon Dean Floop and his daughter Runcita speaking in the corridor earlier.
“It’s a simple case of you scratch my wing, I scratch yours,” he growls. “All you have to do is to tell me where your grandfather Dr. Terrible is hiding. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Gork?”
Holy crap holy crap holy crap. This is real. This is happening.
Runcita will be my Queen.
Yes sir!
Runcita is going to lay my eggs. Well all I have to do is tell the Dean that the degenerate Dr. Terrible is hiding in his secret underground bunker by Conquer More Road on the west side of the island. Runcita will be my Queen. And I’ll describe to the Dean exactly where the bunker is and how the hatch to the bunker is cunningly disguised as an old dead tree trunk.
And then Dean Floop will capture that sonuvabitch Dr. Terrible. I don’t know exactly what Dean Floop will do to Dr. Terrible, but it will be bad. Very bad. But that isn’t my concern right now. Besides, I’m a Terrible and this is what we Terribles do. We act terrible. Isn’t that what Dr. Terrible is forever jabbering on about, anyway?
Yes sir.
Well one thing is for sure, Dean Floop is powerful enough to pull it off. He’s definitely got the juice to do Dr. Terrible in. Or Dr. Terrible wouldn’t have run off to hide. My grandpa wouldn’t have fled if he weren’t scared of what Dean Floop could do to him.
I can’t believe my good fortune. This is the stroke of good luck I’ve been waiting for. And as I squat here in the Dean’s lair, I don’t say anything. Because I want to savor this moment. Runcita will be my Queen after all. Even with these two stupid microscopic horns on my scaly green head, I’m going to get exactly what I want.
Because this is two birds with one stone.
“Now Gork,” the Dean growls. “Tell me, do you know where your grandfather is right now hiding?”
Then, while Dean Floop waits for me to answer his question, he immediately starts growling and gnashing his fangs.
Clack-clack-clack.
And even with his back to me I can see little sparks flying off the sides of the Dean’s monsterish green head from where his fangs are clacking together.
Clack-clack-clack.
Now as you can imagine, I’m feeling awful nervous squatting here. And since the monstrous Dean has his back to me I quickly check my breath to make sure it’s sufficiently disgusting. All you do is hold your talons under your beak and blow your breath up toward the old nostrils. And I feel a sense of relief when my hooded eyes instantly start watering because of the noxious odor.
My breath isn’t just bad, it could peel the paint off a wall.
Clack-clack-clack.
Because you see I want everything to be perfect. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to tell this dragon Dean Floop that my scaly grandpa is hiding in his secret underground bunker on the west side of the island. Then I want to put my crown on Runcita’s gorgeous scaly head and have her be my Queen for EggHarvest.
I mean I know how treacherous and fiendish this big evil dragon Dean Floop can be and so I definitely don’t want to do anything to set him off. That’s why I’m being so careful right now. Like I know during a conversation this scaly green bastard Dean Floop will sometimes grow so disgusted with a cadet’s answers that he’ll use his laserblade to disembowel the cadet right there on the spot.
Clack-clack-clack.
Other times Dean Floop will just blast a dragon cadet with a firestream and poof—the only thing left of you will be a neat little pile of ash on the floor. And it just so happens that right before I came into Dean Floop’s lair this morning, I saw a WarWings janitor exiting the lair with a dustbin filled with ash.
Clack-clack-clack.
So you can see why at this moment I’m being so careful with even the smallest of details. I don’t want to ruin my chances here of scoring Runcita as my Queen because of something small, like having good breath.
“Yes sir!” I say. “That’s good news, sir.”
“What’s good news?”
“Sir. What you said, sir. About your daughter agreeing to be my Queen. I would like to take your daughter Runcita to EggHarvest and for her to lay my eggs. So we can raise a Colony together. So that’s what I meant, sir. About the good news part, sir.”
“Well, son,” he growls, “if you want my daughter Runcita to be your Queen, then you’re going to have to give me Dr. Terrible. I need his location. By the way, Gork, why do you call him that?”
The Dean still has his back to me, and his tail is thrashing around. He gnashes his fangs.
“Call him what, sir?”
“Dr. Terrible.”
“I’m not sure I follow you, sir. What else would I call him?”
“Grandfather. You don’t hear Runcita calling me Dean Floop, do you?”
“I don’t hear Runcita call you anything, sir. I haven’t ever heard her speak, actually. Except in my dreams. Like last night she came to me in my dream. But she didn’t mention you in my dream, sir. No sir. What she told me was—”
“Answer my question, cadet.”
“Sir,” I say, squirting blacksmoke out my nostrils. “I’m not allowed to refer to Dr. Terrible as Grandfather. Or Grandpa, or Gramps, or Pa-Pa, or Pee-Paw, or anything like that. I have to call him Dr. Terrible.”
“And why is that, may I ask?”
“Sir, because Dr. Terrible says he’s my personal physician first and foremost. And my grandpa a very distant second! Or whatever numbe
r you consider to be last place, that’s what number being my grandpa is.”
“So Dr. Terrible has renounced his status as your grandfather, is that it?”
“I’m not sure, sir. I guess you could say that, sir.”
The Dean seems to consider this for a second. “So what would happen if you called him Grandfather?”
“Well, the last time I called him Grandpa I was eight years old. And as punishment, Dr. Terrible gave me the silent treatment.”
The Dean keeps his back to me. He gnashes his fangs. His tail is still lashing around.
“For how long?” he growls.
“For how long what, sir?”
“For how long did your grandfather Dr. Terrible give you the silent treatment?”
“For two years, sir.”
Dean Floop is silent. Then he shakes his monsterish green head and chuckles. “For two years?”
“Yes sir. He even timed it down to the second. With a stopwatch.”
“With a stopwatch?” he says, incredulously.
“He had a special stopwatch made for just this purpose, sir.”
“What do you mean by ‘special’?”
“Well sir,” I say, squirting blacksmoke out my nostrils. “He called it the Dr. Terrible Stopwatch. The stopwatch ran in increments of two years. The watch face was an image of Dr. Terrible’s scaly green head. On the back of the stopwatch was an inscription that said: I MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE. He made me carry the stopwatch around for the entire two years to remind me that I was responsible for my own misery.”
“Dr. Terrible gave you the silent treatment for two years? Just because you called him Grandpa?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you were only eight years old at the time?”
“Yes sir.”
“And your grandfather Dr. Terrible didn’t speak to you again until you were ten years old?”
“Yes sir.”
Even though he has his back to me, I can tell this monstrous dragon Dean Floop is impressed somehow. He’s not gnashing his fangs anymore, but his gigantic tail is still lashing around something powerful.
“Now Gork,” growls the Dean. “Of course you are aware that your grandfather Dr. Terrible blinded me in my eye less than twenty-four hours ago? I believe you were there along with the rest of the cadets?”