"Available for every member of the Indigo Warriors team, including Zip!" shouted the owner of the shop, out across the heads of the crowd, no mean feat in the case of some of the dragons. A mad scramble ensued as everyone tried to get to the front to purchase the particularly worded mantra they wanted. Three minutes later, the crowd thinning out, both Peter and Tank emerged relatively happy, having got a mantra each; Peter had the last one for Steel, while Tank had gone for one with Silverbonce's name on it.
Continuing to browse the stalls and shops at a leisurely pace, on reaching the end they both looked like an advertiser's dream. As well as the mantras, they both sported mammoth floppy blue hats that had 'INDIGOS RULE' written on them, had matching blue rosettes and scarves, as well as a bin sized bucket of multicoloured, flavoured charcoal sticks each.
A huge food court connected the end of the mail with the multiple entrances of the stadium, where massive queues of dragons tailed back from each tiny ticket booth. Once again Peter's sensitive nostrils were tickled by the overpowering aroma of the sensational food on offer, so much so that the grumbling from his stomach got him looks from other dragons over twenty feet away. He cast his eye about like a predatory eagle looking for that solitary fish.
"Don't tell me you're hungry..." Tank quipped, catching sight of his friend’s eye-popping gaze at all the food on offer.
"Sorry, I didn't have time for something earlier."
"Gosh, I'm shocked," replied Tank shaking his head. "Well, I'm going to the seats. I don't want to miss the start."
"I'll be really quick. Can I get you anything?"
"No, I'm fine thanks," answered Tank, before turning away and heading towards ticket booth number three.
After a quick scout around, Peter decided to join the queue for the delicious smelling charcoal and bacon omelettes. Tenth in line, he waited patiently as a booming voice announced over the PA system that the match would start in ten minutes. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a foot kicked him just behind his left knee, causing him to drop to the polished floor. Ignoring the pain, he leapt to his feet, coming face to face with three chuckling youths, all sporting the colours of the Crusaders.
"Ah, look who it is guys. It's Bentwhistle!" one sneered, as the others burst into laughter.
"Where are your two girlfriends then... Richie and Twonk?” All three doubled over at this, all clutching their stomachs with mirth.
Peter closed his eyes, wishing that he was anywhere else but here. The three dragons in front of him were former nursery ring classmates of his and had picked on him throughout his whole time there, when Tank and Richie hadn't been around. He hadn't seen Theobald, Fisher and Casey since graduating, and by the look of things not one of them had matured at all since leaving. The same sense of dread and foreboding rushed through his body, just as it had all those years ago when he was being bullied.
"So Benty, what have you been up to over the years?" snarled Casey.
"Sewer cleaner probably," chipped in Fisher.
"Probably had to work his way up to that," blurted Theobald, punching Peter in the shoulder.
Peter fought back a grimace, knowing from firsthand experience that he shouldn't show any pain. Although the punch had deliberately looked playful to those all around, Theobald had clearly added more than a little dragon power to it, intending to inflict as much pain as possible in the sneakiest kind of way, in this very public place.
Forcing a smile to his lips, Peter announced proudly,
"I'm head of security at Cropptech, actually."
"The rest of the employees must be monkeys then if that's the case," Casey growled.
"Perhaps we should see how tough the head of security really is?" suggested Theobald, a menacing look in his eyes.
Abruptly, Theobald was hoisted three feet into the air by the scruff of his neck. Swiftly turning around, Theobald raised his fists ready to strike until, that is, he was met by the large steely eyes of... Tank.
"Is there a problem, Tiny?" asked Tank softly.
Theobald looked to his friends for support but they, like the cowards they naturally were, had backed off some way and were looking distinctly uninterested in getting involved now that Tank had shown up.
"Umm... errr... I... no problem. Just catching up on old times. Isn't that right Bent... I mean, Peter?"
Theobald hung in the air like meat on a butcher's hook, gazing submissively across at Peter. The scuffle had, by now, attracted the attention of lots of onlookers, all wondering what was going on and if they needed to intervene.
In his mind, Peter imagined Tank using his big fists to punch Theobald halfway across the food court, sending him smashing into one of the ticket booths. He knew it was the wrong thing to think, but it did at least give him a momentary sense of satisfaction.
"It's okay Tank. We were just... catching up," stated Peter, almost reluctantly, secretly wanting the bully to hang there indefinitely.
"Ah... well if that's the case..." Tank said, lowering Theobald gently to the ground.
Once his feet were firmly on the ground and he was out of Tank's reach, Theobald's expression turned to one of rage, his face turning a fetching shade of scarlet.
"Nice seeing you both again," he blustered sarcastically, before mouthing the words "I'll get you for this," to Peter, making sure he turned away so that Tank couldn't see. Like a lost dog looking for its owner, he quickly shot off into the crowd in search of his friends, who had mysteriously developed an acute case of spine-turning-to-jelly and had legged it.
Turning to Peter, Tank asked,
"You okay?"
"I'm fine thanks," replied Peter, a little downcast.
"You know you should stand up to them," Tank whispered, as the two of them shuffled forward in the food queue. "It's all bluster and bravado, as you've just seen. Underneath, they're as scared of you, as you are of them."
"I know, I know," said Peter. "It's just not that easy. As soon as I saw them my legs turned to jelly and my stomach started doing somersaults, the exact same feelings I used to get when they bullied me in the nursery ring.
Gently, Tank placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and said,
"I know it's not easy, I do. But I also know that you have it in you to stand up and be counted."
"Thanks, that means a lot coming from you," Peter replied, sheepishly. "Just out of interest, how did you know I was in trouble?"
Tank burst into a great big belly laugh and looked down at Peter, a huge grin chiselled into his face.
"I didn't know. I just changed my mind about wanting something to eat."
The two friends chuckled all the way to the front of the queue.
Having bought an omelette each, the two of them made their way past the ticket booth and then into their seats with mere moments to spare. Tiny crystals in the roof of the stadium dimmed, leaving only the fiery hot, bubbling lava, for illumination. A trumpeted fanfare echoed around the giant cavern, signalling the build-up to the players’ arrival.
Suddenly, five red blurs and five blue blurs, on exactly the opposite sides of the stadium appeared. The blurs performed a circuit of the lava at speed, flying only a couple of metres above the roiling magma, much to the crowd's delight. The match hadn't even started yet and the crowd were going wild, stomping their feet, clapping their hands, shouting, cheering, blowing rip roaring streams of flame from their mouths, with a few even letting mantas off, just like the ones Peter and Tank had purchased. It was chaos. It was also... intoxicating. The noise, the smell, the atmosphere, all sent shivers up the dragons’ spines. All thoughts of their everyday life forgotten, nothing now existed apart from those dragons about to do battle with each other, all for the chance to go through to the Global Cup proper. Let the action begin.