"Uhhhh," he shook his head in disgust. Just the thought of that cold, dark place made him shudder. No one should be brought up in a place like that. He had been, and it had shaped him into the being he now was. And he was determined to make those that had put him and his father there, pay dearly for doing so.
"What's the hold up?" his father demanded, grumpily.
"No hold up. We're just moving assets into place. None of this is easy. It's not as if we have a superfast underground monorail system to move them all around. Everything takes time." Not to be harsh in the slightest, he'd meant it in a no nonsense kind of way, but that's not how his father took it at all.
For an old dragon, in a desperately old, frail and fragile human form, he was quick. Off the scale quick. Instantly he straddled his son. Troydenn's index finger pressed firmly into his son's forehead. For Manson it was surreal and not the first time it had happened, not by a long way, and he had no doubt it wouldn't be the last either. Unable to move, paralysed, with even the tiniest of his muscles incapable of operating as they should, getting shallower with every second that passed, his breathing slowed. There was no pain, just the frightening prospect of his father not letting him go. Soon, he wouldn't be able to pull any air into his lungs, his vision would start to blur and things would go very badly. Briefly he wondered just how far his father would go this time, just to get his point over.
"YOU... don't speak to me like that! Understood?" Troydenn spat, knowing full well his son couldn't reply, even if he'd wanted to. "I don't want to hear about hold ups and delays. We need to get this done now. I've waited as long as I can for all of this. I don't care about your plans for the dragon domain and the rest of the planet. I just want him to PAY! I want to hear him scream, shout and beg for forgiveness. I want to take him to the very edge of death and then bring him back, over and over again. HE MUST PAY! AND IT MUST BE DONE SOON!"
Having heard the words, how could he not? But it was becoming hard to focus now, and he felt as though he were drowning. It was odd. A pervasive black had started to invade the edge of his vision, moving ever closer to the centre with every moment that passed. Wanting to close his eyes, shake the vision of that fearful face which sat right in front of him, he didn't. Having done so once before, he'd paid a frightful price that time, upon waking up. So, willing his eyes to stay open, he looked straight ahead, for as long as he could before the blackness finally took him.
5
Debt Collector
Preceding the opening of its see-your-own-reflection shiny doors, the shrill 'ding' of the lift started him out of his reverie. Quickly adjusting his tie and posture, he stood up straight, shoulders as far back as they would go. Before the doors had withdrawn fully, he stepped through the gap, feeling the luxurious, thick carpet beneath the soles of his brown suede shoes. Nodding to the secretary on the way past, knowing that she was more than just that, he did all he could to hide the nervousness he felt from her as she flashed him a sparkling smile.
'Oh how things have changed,' he mused, walking up to Garrett's office door, that nervous feeling weighing heavy on his mind, given that once again he was about to have to lie to his boss. Sometimes it seemed as though each lie tore off a tiny piece of him, never to be seen again. Knocking twice in quick succession, a voice from within uttered,
"Come."
Entering, he sat down in the chair that Garrett proffered.
"Peter my boy, how are you?" his boss asked cheerfully.
"Fine thank you si... Al," he replied, remembering both Garrett's and Paul Simon's advice.
Leaning forward, the owner's expression changed from cheerful to concerned.
"Your request to meet sounded urgent. There's nothing wrong, I hope?"
"Uhhh... no, no, well... kind of," he stumbled. "It's just that I wanted to let you know about... uh... Richie Rump. She... uh... works in the training department."
"Mr Bentwhistle," announced Garrett formally, "am I to believe that you think I don't know the names of all the people in every single country throughout the world that this company employs?"
'Of course he knows their names. That's just him... isn't it?' Peter chastised himself.
"From the directors to the janitors, the scientists to the grounds staff, the engineers to the lorry drivers, both full time and temporary staff, I make it my place to know their names, more so now than I ever used to. And I used to," announced Garrett, a little miffed. "I know who Miss Rump is, and indeed how close the two of YOU are," he added.
'Of course he does,' he thought, shaking his head. A tiny voice deep inside him was currently screaming, "Stupid, stupid, stupid," over and over again. He tried to ignore it.
"Please... you were telling me about Miss Rump," Garrett continued.
Swallowing nervously... he was having trouble with this as it was... not with the Richie part of things, but the next bit. Hoping he could go through with it when the time came, he turned back to the matter at hand.
"I just wanted you to know that she won't be able to return to work for a few weeks. She's been really badly hurt and is currently in hospital."
This took Garrett aback.
"How?" he asked.
"The explosion at the sports club, the one that's been all over the papers. She was caught up in it."
"But I thought everyone got out safely, and that there were no casualties," exclaimed the 'bald eagle'.
"That's how it appeared at first, but apparently she was caught in the periphery of the blast, something that with all the confusion surrounding it, wasn't realised until much later.
"Is she badly hurt?"
"She has some burns," answered Peter, "as well as some broken ribs, other broken bones and major bruising. While her injuries aren't life threatening, she does seem to have been very badly roughed up."
"I see," said Garrett, a faraway look in his eyes. "What can I do?" he asked. "I can have the finest doctors in the land at her bedside in hours. They'd know what to do. We can have her moved to a private hospital, with the finest treatment. Money's no object."
More than a little taken aback by the very generous offer, he shouldn't really have been surprised given Garrett's caring disposition both before, and more so after, the whole incident with the dragon Manson. The offer he'd just made would almost certainly apply to every single one of his staff.
"That's really not necessary Al," remarked Peter, remembering. "She just needs some time to recover, and in her own words, she's getting wonderful treatment and care."
Garrett nodded.
"Then I'll pay her a visit and see if there's anything else she needs."
Afraid this would happen, although she'd been moved to a different ward, he was pretty sure the dragons keeping an eye on Richie at the hospital would be deeply disappointed to have Garrett sniffing around.
"I'm pretty sure she would rather not have any visitors," he stated. "She's rather embarrassed about the whole thing, and ashamed that she's having to miss work. On that score, she's also worried about her workload. There are a couple of important training courses that she's supposed to be running next week, and she's concerned about someone else taking over."