CHAPTER 29

Darkness has a way of distorting time. Falling, too. So when you combine them, it can feel like a million eons while you drop to your death.

But my ass landed on some kind of metal slide and I was zooming around curves before I fully realized what was going on. Afu’s giant feet kicked me in the head, and he was moaning as loud as I was screaming. By the time we’d reached the bottom of the slide, I’d composed myself enough to stop screaming and roll out of Afu’s way as he barreled off the track. A light was coming from somewhere, because I could actually see the floor in front of me. An electric chirping made me and Afu look up.

Two droids stood over us.

“Trespassing,” they said, pointing their arms at our heads. Laser guns sat on their robotic forearms, the barrels throbbing with green light, aching to be shot.

“I knew we should have listened to that sign,” Afu said.

I held my hands up so the droids could clearly see them with their digital blue eyes. “We’re smoke eaters. Just doing a precautionary sweep. We heard there might have been a dragon nearby.”

The droids didn’t move, didn’t speak. All I needed was an opening and then I could blast them with my laser arm while Afu used his sword. But we were still on our asses and the droid’s had their weapons inches from our faces.

“Oh, there are plenty of dragons down here,” a human voice said from behind the robots.

A masked man walked toward us, carrying a laser lantern on the end of a stick. Three other people in black masks appeared behind him. They were carrying pistols instead of torches.

“Thing is,” the man who’d spoken said, “there’s even more rats down here. On your feet, smokies. And out of those metal suits.”

“What?” I didn’t know who the fuck this guy was, but I’d be damned if I’d be bossed around by some prick with a sock on his head.

“I said get up and get out of those tuna cans!”

Afu stood up before I did, but he was flexing his fists and looking to rip the man’s head off. Both the masked people and the droids aimed their weapons at him.

“Don’t make us force you,” the leader said. I got to my feet and popped open my power suit.

Afu shook his head. “Tamerica…”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Do what they say.”

With a groan, Afu unlocked his suit and stepped out. Two of the masked goons ran behind us and knocked the suits over.

“Take their helmets, too,” the masked leader said. “We don’t want them calling for help.”

Our helmets were ripped off. One of the creeps put mine on their head and tapped it with their pistol.

The leader laughed. “You picked the wrong party to crash, Big Man and Little Girl. But maybe we can have some fun with this.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” I asked. “The cops know where we are. They had us tail the guy you kidnapped. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The others looked to their leader, lowering their pistols an inch.

That’s right, be worried, you dumb dickweeds.

“Lady,” the leader said, “who do you think told us about ol’ Terry Blithe in the first place?”

Never trust the police. Goddamn it, I knew this whole thing stunk, but I was just so eager to do the right thing.

“So I’m guessing you’re not the arsonist cult,” I said.

“We’re the ones who are going to make sure they don’t burn anything ever again. You and your soupedup dragon Slayers haven’t been able to do jack shit about it yet. And the army, hell, those guys are crazy!”

In the dim light of the laser torch, I stared at the leader’s eyes poking out from the two, ragged holes in his mask, trying to figure out who he was.

“Who are you people?” I asked.

“Enough of this back and forth,” he said. “Move them to the pit.”

Afu looked at me, no longer pissed, but worried. I was right there with him. Nothing called “The Pit” could ever be a good thing.

They marched us down a dark path where rivulets of sawdust trickled onto my shoulder. There was brighter light and noise at the end of the path. We were somewhere deep under the warehouse, but these clowns had rigged it up to their twisted specifications, a fun house of horrors. A trapdoor and a slide? Who the fuck thinks of that?

When we got to the larger area at the end of the path, I stopped so I wouldn’t fall off into “The Pit.” The room looked like an underground circus, full of other masked people stomping their feet on shoddy stands. A portable electric generator rumbled off to the side, powering yellow-tinted work lights that had been strung up to illuminate what lay in the center of the room.

“The Pit” was a small circle that could have been a miniature version of FreeEnergy Stadium. Terrence Blithe stood below us, up against the wall, gripping it with both hands and moving his terrified face from one fist-shaking creep above him to the other. The masked audience was shouting, almost chanting, but none of them said the same thing. Some shouted, “Our city!” while others hollered at the top of their voices, “Burn ’em out! Burn ’em all out!”

This whole damn scene was too crazy for my mind to comprehend. No doubt, I was scared shitless, but my fear had a conjoined twin in the form of unadulterated rage.

The people at our backs shoved me and Afu into the pit.

We landed on cold dirt. I was able to roll, smoothing the fall. Afu landed flat on his front.

He coughed and brushed dirt from his face. “What the hell, man!?”

I grabbed his arm and helped him up.

Terrence Blithe scooted against the edge of the arena to get closer to us. “What’s going on? Please help me!”

“Just relax,” I said. “We’ll get out of this.”

What I really wanted to tell him was that we were in as much shit as he was. But public service workers don’t have that kind of luxury. We had to be the ones who remain calm. It can get really fucking annoying.

“Why are they doing this?” Blithe asked.

“You’re not in a phoenix cult are you?” Afu asked. “What?” Blithe said. “No! Wait, you mean they think I’m one of those arsonist people?”

“If it makes you feel better,” I said, “they probably just don’t like you because you’re an immigrant.”

“But I’m an American!”

“A New Yorker. An immigrant to Parthenon City.” I looked at Afu. “You know who these assholes are, right?”

Afu glanced at the churning bodies above us, who might have been foaming at the mouth if their masks weren’t concealing their faces. “It’s those PC First jokers.”

I should have recognized that voice behind the mask; the way he’d said “rats.”

“Brothers and sisters,” Duncan Sharp’s voice boomed over the rabble.

He stood above us on some kind of rinky-dink podium, and I noticed that, below him, and directly in front of us, was some kind of doorway in the arena’s wall.

“Brothers and sisters,” the leader said again until they’d all quieted down. “I thought we were going to have a nice time, gathering together and ridding this city of one more leech. But fate had other plans. If you’ll look into the pit below you, you’ll notice that we have two new visitors.”

The masked crowd booed.

“They came into our house,” the leader said, “wearing their fancy armored suits, wielding their high-tech weapons. I take that as a threat, don’t you?”

Pissed-off cheers responded.

“They say they’re smoke eaters, the same people who are supposed to protect us, not intimidate us. But they want to protect the people coming to our city, taking our food and healthcare. Clogging our streets with their filth. Look at them down there in the pit. They don’t look like smoke eaters to me. Do you know what they look like?” Sharp paused for effect. “They look like rats!”

The crowd began chanting, “Rats, rats, rats,” over and over.

Sharp raised his arms. “Let’s show them what we do to rats around here.”

The door I’d spotted in the pit’s wall opened in front of us. Afu grabbed my arm as Blithe put himself behind us, using our bodies like a shield for whatever was coming out of the door.

I focused on getting my breath under control while I searched the dark in front of me. Glowing green eyes appeared, blinking and staring back at me. Black smoke began to flow from the door, followed by a low, rumbling growl.

Several of the masked assholes in the stands above us began to cough. They pulled out pocket respirators and secured them to their noses and mouths, having to lift the bottom of their masks to do so.

“Blithe, cover your mouth with your shirt,” I shouted over my shoulder.

It wasn’t ideal, but this was dragon smoke, and a thin bit of fabric was better than nothing. Whether Blithe covered his face or not, I didn’t know, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the door.

A large, clawed foot shot out of the dark and landed with a heavy thud. It was emerald green, the scales glistening under the arena’s work lights. Next came a green snout and a head covered in white horns. The dragon snorted and jets of black smoke shot from its nostrils, filling the pit.

Above us, several of the PCF people leaned over the edge of the arena with stun poles. The ends sparked with electricity, causing the scaly to growl and jerk its head away before cowering lower. It had firsthand experience with those poles. How many people had been where we stood, facing the same scaly?

In an instant, the dragon shot out of the door. Blithe screamed through his shirt behind us, but Afu and I stood our ground. The scaly must have wanted a chase, because it stopped short and hunched down, trying to get a read on us.

It was a wyvern, meaning it only had two legs. Its wings had been cut off, leaving only charred stumps where it had most likely cauterized the wounds itself. I slew dragons for a living and even I thought that shit was cruel.

“Blithe,” I said. “Stay back and let us handle this.” “You don’t even have any armor!” he said.

“He’s right,” Afu said. “We’re practically naked.”

“Yeah, well, if this thing is going to eat us, I don’t want to make it easy.”

The wyvern roared and dug its claws into the dirt. It charged. It snapped its jaws toward me, leaving its neck open for Afu to grab hold of. Heaving Afu a few inches off the ground, the wyvern tried to lift its neck and pull away. I began wailing on its head, dodging its teeth with every punch. Smoke blasted from its throat and into my face, but I inhaled it as easily as spring air and blew it back at the dragon.

Afu grunted under the strain. “This approach isn’t going to last long.”

“I don’t what else to do without our…”

The wyvern’s slimy, green tail squirmed between Afu’s legs.

“Watch out!” I screamed.

The dragon’s tail snapped like a whip, slamming into Afu’s nether regions and sending him sailing into the far wall of the arena. I dove out of the way as the scaly did a death roll in the dirt, blasting fire from its mouth indiscriminately.

“My nuts,” Afu said in a puny, high-pitched voice.

I sat him up and grabbed each side of his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”

The PC First assholes were chanting, “Burn the rats!”

I looked up and glared at Duncan Sharp. His head bobbed up and down as if he was laughing under his dingy mask and respirator.

I’d give him something to laugh about.

“How strong are you really, Afu?” I asked. “Huh?” He scrunched his face, annoyed that I wasn’t more concerned about his balls.

I made like I was kissing his cheek and whispered my plan into his ear.

When I pulled away, Afu shrugged. “I’ll give it try.”

Behind us, Blithe was cowering where we’d left him, and the wyvern had just taken notice. It was gearing up for another charge, so I fought against my exhaustion and ran.

Jagged teeth came inches from Blithe’s head before I slammed into the wyvern. I hadn’t hit it hard enough to knock it over, but it was enough to save Blithe a decapitation. I raised my arm to follow up with a punch, but the dragon twisted its neck around and bit at my hand. I flinched and nearly fell over. I turned and ran toward Afu who’d ripped off one side of the arena door, holding it like a shield.

“Now!” I shouted.

Afu dropped into a squat and placed the metal sheet on top of him, creating a make-shift ramp. The PC First mob shouted chants of murder as I hopscotched over flames that flew at my heels and ran onto the metal door. The wyvern followed. With a jump, I landed as hard as I could onto the edge of the ramp. Afu helped to heave from the bottom, and like a catapult, we launched the wyvern, still blasting flames, into the stands.

Duncan Sharp’s mask caught fire. He screamed as he beat his palms against his burning face, fumbling through the crowd to get away from the dragon. The other assholes weren’t as lucky as their boss. The wyvern flattened two of them as it rolled over to get to its feet, then snagged another guy in its mouth. The one being eaten kicked their legs violently as if it would do any good. Once the dragon bit down, it put a stop to those dancing feet. A few chews later and there was no more of the masked person, legs or anything else.

The wyvern spun around to look for more snacks, and when it did, its massive tail crashed into a handful of people trying to make a run for it. A few slammed into a wall or the stands at the other side of the arena. One of them fell to the dirt in front of me, but their back was smoking and they didn’t get back up.

“Thank you!” Blithe grabbed my arm with two hands.

“Don’t thank us just yet,” I said. “We still have to figure out how to get out of this death trap.”

“Might as well go through that door.” Afu pointed toward the blob of darkness the wyvern had come from.

But we hadn’t taken half a step when two droids marched through the door with their guns raised, laser sights forcing me to cover my eyes. They weren’t going to hesitate this time. I spread my arms, as if to shield Afu and Blithe. And that’s when the firing started.

One of the droids’ heads exploded in a shower of metal and electric sparks. The other took an assault to the middle of its torso.

It was able to let out a final word: “Rats!”

Damn. The PC First bastards had even corrupted the droids with their xenophobic bullshit.

I ducked and darted my head around to see where the shots had come from. Cops flooded into the room, chasing masked people through the stands, and backing away when they saw the wyvern crushing wooden seats and running amok.

Renfro and Detective Rankin charged into the pit.

“Good thing I called the cops about five minutes sooner than you told me to,” Renfro said.

“Assholes took our power suits.” I pointed to the dragon in the stands. “You think you can handle that wyvern by yourself.”

“On it.” Renfro gave me a two-fingered salute and power jumped toward the scaly.

Rankin sucked on his metal toothpick so nervously, I thought he might stain his teeth gray. “I swear I had no idea this was going to happen.”

“Their leader, Duncan Sharp, said something about how the cops gave them a heads up on Blithe,” I said.

Blithe wobbled over, arms wrapped around his chest. “Serve and protect, my ass!”

I put a hand on Blithe’s shoulder. “Settle down, sweetheart. Anyway, Rankin, that’s some terribly deceitful shit if you ask me. Are you in with these PC First people?”

“What!?” Rankin spit out his toothpick. “Hell no! I rushed over here with the few on-duties I could grab. I thought it was the cult. You saying these are those crazy people with the shitty haircuts?”

I squinted, looking into his eyes, seeing if I could spot a liar inside. But I was pretty sure after a few seconds that Rankin was on the up and up.

“If you’re done trying your wannabe psychic shit on me,” Rankin said. “Let’s get your power suits back to you and see if we can find this Duncan Sharp.”

“If he survived,” I said, following Rankin, “he’ll have one hell of a burn on his face.”

Behind us, a heavy thud hit the arena floor. The wyvern had been knocked out.

Renfro hopped down from the stands, dusting off his hands to show a job well done. “You two couldn’t handle one measly wyvern?”