In conjunction with the human world above, the dragon domain suffered incredible losses as the psychic wave tore through it, destroying the Chicago monorail station, leaving no dragon standing. Although there were not nearly as many fatalities as in some of the other blast sites, it was dumb luck that the main dragon residential area beneath Chicago was a vast distance away from the city centre above ground. Still, dragon responders in the King's Guard were once again horrified at the scenes that greeted them on arrival. Again, the council were informed. It felt to them as though they were being attacked from all sides.
* * *
Sitting overlooking them all, his long fingernails scratching at the white growth on and around his chin, a sense of bewilderment and frustration stabbed at his very soul. For he'd been tasked with keeping them safe... all of them! Dragons, humans, animals, plants... he had failed each and every one of them. It felt as though he was being attacked personally, on all fronts, by invisible forces lurking in the shadows. Random, by all accounts, except for the incredible destruction, the attacks just couldn't be predicted. As dragons scuttled in and out of the chambers, passing flimsy pieces of paper over to the councillors, it seemed inevitable that the human world on the surface would suffer more than the clandestine dragon domain beneath. He knew that, by now, news of the attacks would have disseminated globally; undoubtedly panic, chaos and mayhem were spreading at just the very thought of what was happening. Trying to remain calm... calm and composed, knowing that right now the dragon domain, and the world in general, needed a being with their head screwed on, one that would make the right choices in the cold light of day and not act on an emotional impulse for retribution, should the perpetrators of these despicable deeds ever be discovered, with a grim determination, he set himself to do just that, despite a coldness squeezing his very heart, urging him to lash out and strike.
* * *
Feeling absolutely shattered, nothing to do with the hockey match he'd played in earlier, Peter was tired to his very bones, or more likely, to his very DNA. Tank had drained more of his magical energy to help set up the first two top floor mantras, that would all coalesce into one big, giant mantra... hopefully. Knowing there were only two more to go did nothing to reassure him, because he just wasn't sure he could go on, he just didn't seem to have it in him. It sounded as stupid to Peter's mind as it does on this page; after all he was only sitting down, but he'd never really been blessed with an awesome supply of magical energy, or mana as some dragons referred to it. Of course it did recharge at quite a rate, but that was of little comfort in their current situation as it took hours, and not minutes, to go from drained to fully replenished.
A bone weary Tank staggered into the function room, briefly leaning on one wall as he did so, both friends catching each other's eyes. Straight away, Peter's self pity disappeared. Tank looked wasted, ashen, exhausted, almost... frail.
"Two more to go," he huffed, lurching his way towards the far corner, next to the wall that separated the corridor from the function room.
Holding his head in his hands, which were propped up on the wooden table at which he sat, just one thought ran through Peter's head.
'We just haven't got enough in us. The mantra he's using requires too much. We're never gonna make it!'
* * *
Outside in the car park, things had just gone from bad to worse. It had been difficult enough trying to assure the gathered members that it wasn't possible to return to the clubhouse just yet, feigning a gas leak. But that paled in comparison with the task that Janice now faced. Not only had the fire brigade arrived, but the rest of the emergency services as well, all at once. Knowing that every second she could stall them was important, and starting to run out of ideas, the petite blonde, being the only one supposedly having any knowledge of the gas leak, decided on a different approach, one that she hoped would work until Peter and Tank finished whatever it was they were doing.
* * *
Managing to stand up from the table, but only just, Peter felt so weary. With Tank there in the room, he thought it only proper to go over and stand with him, if for no other reason than to show his support, not that his friend would have any reason to doubt him on that front. With Tank whispering under his breath, while in tandem weaving his hands and fingers through some very strange patterns, Peter gazed out of the squeaky clean window, past the many, many cars, to the far side of the car park. Exhaling in surprise at the sight that greeted him, there, standing directly in front of a fire engine, that had not quite made it through the main gate and into the car park, was... JANICE, looking like she was having some kind of epileptic fit or something, arms waving wildly, head nodding vigorously, her whole body bobbing up and down like a boat in a storm. Firemen on either side of her looked to be trying to cajole her off to one side, without much success, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they triumphed over her. Abruptly, a wave of fatigue washed through him, causing him to crumple to his knees, too tired to stand. From out of nowhere a huge hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to his feet. Hugging the all encompassing window, Tank stumbled past him, on his way to the last corner.
"It's nearly over. Last one, and then we're done," he slurred, sounding almost drunk. Seeing the toll this was taking on his friend, Peter wondered if Tank would be able to complete the final part of the mantra that would form the invisible barrier and contain the bomb's blast. Even if he did, would the two of them have enough left in them to get out of the building? Two burning questions, whose answers would only come in time, and on whose outcomes thousands of lives, quite literally, depended.
* * *
Despite Tim wanting to go back up, she wasn't having any of it, knowing that these illicit liaisons were becoming more and more infrequent, and were getting harder and harder to arrange. Sooner or later they would have to stop, although she couldn't see how at the moment, or picture her life without him. As they held each other tightly, and kissed some more, he gave in to her every wish. How could he deny her? He loved her, despite her strange ways and all the secrecy that accompanied them. Perhaps one day he'd find out what it was all about; until then he was content just to be with her, even if it meant ending up in strange places like this.
* * *
Tank stood, well barely, in the last corner on the first floor. It all came down to this. If he executed the mantra properly, then all the others should join together, forming a perfectly cylindrical invisible shield, capable of containing almost anything. But time was ticking down. Both friends had running timers at the front of their minds, synchronised with the timer on the bomb. Both currently stood at one minute, thirty six seconds. And that wasn't their only problem. As was his wont, Peter had been gazing out of the window, trying to keep an eye on developments outside, namely Janice. But the game was up. An instant ago, two police officers from a car blocked in by the fire engine, had crept up on her and physically removed her from where she stood. Now nothing stood in the way of the emergency services entering the car park and then ultimately... the clubhouse! Immensely proud of her, especially the way she'd played the panic stricken, scared, emotional woman, which had bought them valuable seconds, seconds that might well save the lives of the very personnel that had just manhandled her out of the way, he'd known it was all an act, but confirmation came when she, standing silently, looked in his direction. Smiling, he hoped to be with her in a matter of seconds.