So it was with them all gathered round, he outlined what he needed from them. Their expressions at first were a picture, perplexed, puzzled and genuinely downright stumped. But it only took a matter of moments for the first one of them to sprout an idea. This acted as a springboard for the next, and the next, and so on. Yoyo sat watching as his assembled band of misfit dragons, already on top of the task he'd assigned them, applied everything he'd ever taught them and so much more. Pride burned fiercely inside him. Getting up to leave, he knew all along that this visit had to be a flying one (never mind the fact that he'd walked here). Just as he was about to bid them all goodbye, two thoughts forced their way into his head. A good job they did... they were important.
"Oh... before I go. You know I told you they have to be designed and adapted for fully formed, one-size-fits-all, dragon physiques?"
"YES," they all replied at once.
"Please can you modify one so that it will fit a human shaped form? I think there's a good chance we might need it. One last thing. On top of what I've just asked of you, there's a very specific mantra I'd like you to find out about."
Their ears prickled like animals sensing prey.
"What do you need?" asked one of the younger ones, full of confidence.
Yoyo smiled at the thought of being that young, standing up in front of your peers, so self assured. Nothing seemed beyond this group.
"I need something that will detect the tiniest heat source amongst a thousand square miles of snow."
"How tiny?" a different one asked, his mind already working on the problem.
"Good question," replied Yoyo. "Simply put... I don't know exactly. But a pinprick of heat in that kind of environment would suffice."
Another collective intake of breath was their only response.
"I'll leave it in your capable hands."
Nodding agreement, goodbyes were said and they all got back to work.
Leaving the building the same way as he'd entered, Yoyo hoped that what he'd just asked for would never actually be required.
15
Back To Back Surprises
Smiling at the thought of being a taxi service for his friend, it had been a nice surprise to hear from her, that was for sure. On a normal Saturday though, they wouldn't have spoken to each other until after their respective battles had been completed. Locking his car, he walked over to the ordinary, red wooden door and thumped the brass knocker three times. A few moments passed before his sensitive hearing picked up the delicate sound of footsteps running down the stairs. With a click the door opened, and there in just her dressing gown stood Richie, yawning her head off, looking as though she'd just woken up.
"Hi Pete," she gurgled through a semi completed yawn. "Come on in."
Slipping past her, he continued up the narrow staircase and into the living room. Shaking his head, he had but one thought. 'Same old Richie.' "Mess" didn't do the room justice. Clothes, books, magazines were strewn everywhere. A tiny part of him deep within the back of his mind chuckled.
'You always fantasised about being with her, but this side of her would drive you crazy. You'd never be able to put up with it,' mocked the little voice. It was right of course, and deep down he knew however hard he tried, he would never be able to change her. She would always be... Richie, whether dragon or human.
"Make yourself at home," she stated, striding past him, heading for her bedroom. "I'm just going to get kitted up and then I'll be ready to go."
Pleased to see the plaster casts had been removed from her wrist and ankle, he noted that her other injuries appeared to be healing nicely. Briefly he wondered why she was heading that way, when most of her kit seemed to be scattered around the living room... the floor, the sofa, lying indiscriminately across her computer. Moving across to the sofa, he considered sitting down, but thought better of it after inspecting the mass of magazines and books covering the suede sofa he recalled from past visits, all the time resisting the tremendous urge he had to tidy things up. Instead, he chose to wander over to the only uncluttered part of the room, a stunning glass display cabinet full to the brim with trophies of one sort or another, all of which Richie had picked up during her lacrosse playing career. Of course most were individual awards, but, to his surprise, there were team ones as well. Wondering why they hadn't been on display at the sports club, he supposed it was just as well given what had happened recently with the bomb blast. As all this circled his brain, he heard his friend enter the room behind him. Vowing to ask about the trophies, he turned, only to be greeted by a very surprising and awkward sight. There, rifling through a huge pile of washing (at least he hoped it was a pile of washing) was Richie, dressed only in her knickers and nothing else. He didn't know where to look. As if things couldn't get any more awkward, she started talking to him about the hockey match he was due to play in later.
"So, who are you playing today Pete?"
"Ummm... Bournemouth I think," he mumbled, looking up at the ceiling, around the walls, anywhere but in the direction of his friend, who was showing off more of herself than he cared to see at the moment.
"Are they any good?" she enquired.
Swallowing nervously, his mind running away with some very powerful, and not entirely appropriate thoughts, all the time still looking away, he replied,
"Yeah... they're pretty good. Second in the league if I remember rightly."
"So tough game today then," she added, still not having found the item of clothing she was looking for.
Almost drowning in everything running through his mind, one single image came to his rescue, as if thrown and caught like a lifeline... JANICE!
"Probably," he declared, able to focus a bit more. "But they seem to be one of those teams that don't travel so well, so here's hoping."
Scattering even more clothes on the floor, Richie appeared to have at least found some of the kit she was looking for. Straightening up, she turned to walk back into the bedroom. Having noticed her turn around out of the corner of his eye, his chronic awkwardness receded somewhat, enough anyway for him to turn round fully and look at his friend. What he witnessed knocked his socks off. Having assumed that nothing else could surprise him today more than seeing his best friend semi-naked for the first time in his entire life, he found he was wrong, very wrong.