"You don't mind if we have a couple of moments to talk it over, do you?" asked 'Ginger'.
"Be my guest," ventured Steel.
Both dragons, looking quite a sight, ambled over to a pile of rubble, 'Ginger', a hulking monster of a formidable opponent despite his agreeable demeanour, dwarfing his pent up partner, who resembled the typical pocket rocket, looking as though his fuse had already been lit.
Much sooner than Steel expected, the two reached an agreement and turned to face the famed laminium ball player and his entourage.
"We're in... if you'll have us. What's the plan?"
For a split second he considered not telling them, but dismissed it out of hand almost immediately. Everyone else knew... why shouldn't they?
Explaining that they had, as a group, all talked it through, deliberating long into the night, opinions had been split between heading towards Buckingham and the council building, fearing what was happening there and for the king's safety, or sneaking off to Fleet Street because if there was anyone that would know what was going on in the rest of the world they would be there, at the centre of the telepathic papers. Also, if this was purely a localised event, it might be possible to use the telepathic facilities to alert the rest of the world to what was going on and send a shout out for help. And so it had been narrowed down to those two options, with the eclectic group being pretty much split down the middle. In the end it came down to their leader... Steel! After careful consideration, he had opted for the Fleet Street option and so as quickly as possible he explained why to both of his team's new recruits.
Both nodding in agreement all the way through, 'Ginger' and DomCon certainly couldn't fault the brave laminium ball captain's logic. A rallying call to arms across the rest of the dragon domain should certainly clear the mess up quickly and efficiently, unless of course this was happening planet wide, something that was pretty much unthinkable.
With the extended group about to set off once more, 'Ginger' thought a proper introduction appropriate.
"My name's Jar Man," he stated, smiling.
"Most probably call you 'Ginger' though, don't they?" put in Steel.
"Strawberry Blonde!"
"Sorry!"
"I'm not ginger... I'm strawberry blonde."
"I heard... I'm just sorry."
"Oh... very good... not only a laminium ball superstar, but a comedian as well."
"Just kidding... it's great to meet you Jar Man, you too DomCon. Now you're part of my team, and with that, you have big boots to fill. On the plus side, there's nothing that I wouldn't do for you. We're all in this together. Those cockwombles that have done this to our domain have no idea what they've let themselves in for. Let the games commence."
21
Deep ****
Shrouded in oily black shadows, she weaved in and out of the industrial pipes that made up the sewage reclamation plant. Logic told her that her enemies wouldn't be anywhere near a place like this. It had no real strategic value as a target... all it did was process the industrial waste for the whole of London. But these were strange and uneasy times. She knew better than to take anything for granted. Slipping silently into a dark recess, she stopped to catch her breath, the comforting reassurance of the laminium dagger's hilt nestling against the small of her back. Of all the places in the dragon domain, it just had to be here! But Flash's instructions had been quite clear when he'd whispered them in her ear, just before taking his leave, back in Salisbridge, what seemed like a very long time ago. Running her hands through her dark, curly locks, the superstar lacrosse player wiped away the sweat from her forehead with the backs of them. It had been tough going to get this far. Marauding gangs of dragons, nagas, and a mixture of the two were everywhere. Skirting around, above and below, had cost her valuable time. But in reality she'd had little choice. Taking them on alone would have been suicidal, despite having the advantage of the all powerful dagger. So, using her magic to the best of her ability to help keep her concealed, she'd trudged on, taking her time with every footstep, quieter than a spider sprinting across a carpet. Truth be told, it had drained her as much mentally as it had physically. But now she was here... here where, she'd been led to believe, the very start of the secret entrance began. All she had to do now was find it. And of course avoid falling into the humungous silos of dragon poo that were spread out all around her.
Craning her neck as far back as it would go she instructed the magic inside her to find her night vision. Suddenly the murky gloom she'd been looking at, high above her, jumped out, casting everything in an outstanding overall shade of blue. Jutting out from the side of a craggy rock face, a rusty looking yellow balcony, housing a myriad of conduits, ducts and pipelines, swam into view. Excitement welled up inside her on seeing the number 34 printed on the back of the control panel sitting off to one side. This was her destination. All she had to do now was get up to it. During the course of normal operations, this would not have been a problem for anyone working here. Of course, how could it have been... all they had to do was flap their wings, and... BOOM! There they were. But not so for her... not here, not now. Even if she'd been able to transmute back into her natural form, something deep inside her screamed that she shouldn't. Maybe it was a trap, perhaps the place was being watched? Who knew? All that she did know was that she had to get up there and quickly. Not to mention quietly, and unseen.
Exiting her hidey hole before crawling nearly two hundred yards on her belly across the oil splashed floor beneath a series of interconnecting pipes that fed either directly in, or directly out of the huge excrement containers, by the time she reached the starting point of her journey upwards, she was absolutely shattered, not to mention nursing rather sore knees and elbows. Without a second thought, she bounded up the first series of pipes, using the kinks and twists in the smaller ones as foot and hand holds, gaining as much as fifty feet or so in height, but then finding herself only about a quarter of the way up the ever imposing giant vat of poo off to her right.
Crouching down on top, the concealed lacrosse player tried to map out the next part of her precarious route in the dark, all the time extending out her senses as much as she dared, on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. While at first glance it appeared that there were numerous ways to reach the balcony that was her destination using the array of pipes to climb up, by tracking each one through, her senses seemed to almost always hit a snag. After a matter of moments it became obvious to her that there was actually only one way, a route that would consist of using the only, rather fragile looking pipe that extended right out above the waste silo housing most of the dragon excrement. Perhaps it had been designed with that in mind, putting off any would be interlopers, or anyone whose curiosity had got the better of them. Anyhow, at least now, she knew what she had to do. Steeling herself, and focusing all her thoughts on getting to that tucked away little balcony, she started off, determined to carry on in much the same way as she had been for some time now: putting one foot in front of the other, taking her time, concentrating on getting it right and remaining hidden. It was more important than ever now.
A little over an hour later she found herself at eye level with her destination, some fifty or so yards from the balcony's faded yellow metal rails. One problem alone presented itself, one last obstacle to overcome: a rather flimsy looking pipe, which was rusted in places and was about the diameter of one of her delicate little feet. And of course it cut directly across the open topped silo of dragon waste, the surface of which bubbled away some eighty feet below her. Part of her wanted to sprint for all she was worth, covering the distanced in but a moment or two. But now was not the time. Patience was the key, and so ignoring the eye watering fumes that almost made her gag, she started across, cloaked in darkness, one foot in front of the other, sweat caking her neck and meandering down her back. A few paces in, she knew there was now no turning back. As the hideous stench of tens of thousands of dragons wafted over her, the heat clawing at her feet and shins, carefully she placed one foot in front of the other, having long since reined in her magical abilities. This was all about her physicality, something she never had any doubts about, being the athlete that she was. And so it was that with only one minor hiccup (a very dubious piece of the pipe, almost in the middle creaking like a worn out rocking chair) she made it across to the balcony before sliding gracefully through the bars, relieved to be supported by something much more substantial. Pulling in a deep breath, she turned around, taking in her route before looking down at the drop and exactly what it would have entailed.