“I don’t get it,” Danny said. “Why wouldn’t Bloat just put something down here that could flat out kill us?”
“Because,” Ray said slowly, “that’s not how a dungeon-master operates. This is still a game to him. He can’t just kill the players out of hand… that’s not much fun, after all.”
“Bloat.” Battle said through clenched teeth, “is a dangerous, twisted, terrorist, demented genetic freak. Who knows”
“So am I,” Danny said quietly.
“What?”
“A genetic freak.” She looked steadily at Battle.
“Me too,” said Blockhead. “Even if I’m dead.” He jerked a thumb at Ray and Crypt Kicker. “These guys are too. And I think we’ve had just enough of your insults. I’d watch my tongue if I were you. You’re definitely outnumbered here.”
Battle looked at him, the vein in the side of his forehead throbbing. “Be careful, you insubordinate bastard” he began.
“Hey,” Blockhead said blandly, “what are you going to do? Shoot me?”
Battle sputtered wordlessly while Ray and Danny both failed to hide grins. Battle finally looked at the expressionless Crypt Kicker and barked out, “Come along!”
“I don’t think this situation is exactly what we’ve been led to believe,” Danny said to the others.
“I never liked the bastard,” Blockhead muttered. “Well, that’s fine for you,” he added cryptically, though neither Ray nor Danny had said anything.
Ray looked at both of them “There’s something weird going on. I can feel it. But Battle’s in charge.”
"So what?” Danny said in a low voice.
“He’s a shifty bastard. I suggest we just keep our eyes and ears open. That’s all.”
Ray shifted uncomfortably. He was the type who just followed orders and kicked ass. The nature of the orders had never bothered him. But Battle was such a shitbag…
“Jesus Christ!”
The shout came from around a bend in the corridor. There was an edge in Battle’s voice, a hint of panic that Ray had never heard before. The three looked at each other and started to run, Ray in the lead, Danny following, and Cameo/Blockhead bringing up the rear. They skidded around the turn in the corridor and came to a stumbling stop to see Battle pressed behind Crypt Kicker, who was taking everything with his usual deadpan aplomb.
“What is it?” Ray asked.
“I think,” Battle said, pointing over Puckett’s shoulder, “I found the goddamn dragon.”
Ray suddenly became aware of a sound floating down the corridor like the chuf-chuf-chuffle of an asthmatic steam engine. There was the smell of smoky, burned things. He peered around Puckett and there it was. Battle had found it, all right.
A goddamn dragon sitting curled around its goddamn treasure trove.
The first bomb shook the Rox, and Patchwork shuddered in Modular Man’s arms.
“It’s starting,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I should check on Dr. Travnicek. Make sure he’s under cover and safe.”
Another bomb crashed home, this one closer. After the thud came the sound of stonework falling.
Patchwork’s face was pale.
“The Turtle destroyed my weapons,” the android said. “I will ask Bloat’s permission to leave the Rox and return with others.”
Patchwork gave a faint grin. “Glory, glory hallelujah.”
"Be careful.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of things while you’re gone.”
There was no special emphasis in her words, none but the sudden rain of bombs and rockets that were hammering Bloat’s glass-and-stonework fantasy.
He kissed her again and flew away, out of the fused room, down the twisting corridors, out into the foggy courtyard. His radar imaging was full of arcing aircraft, falling explosives, wildly cart-wheeling Bosch creatures. It was clear the military was after vengeance for the New Jersey.
Modular Man went in search of Bloat. The governor was himself, not the Outcast, and as more concussions battered the air, the strain showed both on his face and in his temper.
“The Turtle took my weapons,” Modular Man said. “There’s nothing I can do until I replace them.”
“You can go down and —”
“I have other weapons waiting at Dr. Travnicek’s apartment. May I go get them?”
The governor narrowed his eyes and thought. “I can hold off those assholes for a while,” he said. “Get your weapons and hurry.”
The android took off, out one of the castle’s shattered windows. Below, in the shadow of one of the arches leading down to the tunnel system, he saw a sylphlike figure crouching.
He slowed, waited till an explosion lit the fog, and waved.
Her hand hesitantly rose in response. There was a grenade in it.
It is good, he ordered himself to think, that she has armed herself and will be able to defend herself and Dr. Travnicek if necessary.
He flew on, back to Manhattan.
“Hello. Having a pleasant journey through Bloat’s scenic caverns’?”
The damn thing talked too. Well, why not? Everything else in this place was screwy. Why not a talking dragon?
“Sure,” Ray said. He shoved past Puckett, surreptitiously pulling Danny along with him. If this fucker was a fire-breather, and the little puffs of smoke coming from his nostrils seemed to indicate that he was, Ray didn’t want them bunched together in the cave mouth where one breath could barbecue them all.
“What are you doing down here?” Danny asked.
“Guarding my treasure, of course,” the thing said.
Ray’s hopes suddenly rose. The dragon seemed intelligent and reasonable. Maybe they could bullshit their way past it.
“And keeping strangers off Bloat’s back,” it added.
Well, shit, Ray thought.
“We’re just passing through.” Danny said, following Ray as he slowly edged around the room. “We don’t want to bother you.”
“How about Bloat?” the dragon asked mildly.
“Bloat,” Battle said slowly, edging forward, “dies!”
He swung up his assault rifle and triggered a long burst. The dragon roared. It stood, ruffling its wings and exhaling enough steam to turn the chamber into a sauna. Battle’s bullets seemed to have little impact on its tough, leathery hide as ricochets whined around the chamber like angry bees.
“The stomach!” Ray shouted. The creature’s abdomen seemed unarmored. “Aim for its stomach!”
Danny took his advice. She stepped forward and brought her shotgun up and emptied a whole ammo cartridge in something less than five seconds. The flechette rounds penetrated the beast’s skin, but not too deeply. They just seemed to anger it.
Danny swore and went down to one knee, rummaging in her pack for another ammo cartridge as the dragon bellowed in pain and rage.
“Get down!” Ray shouted as the beast reared up on its hind legs and drew its head back as if it were going to spit at them. Ray hit the ground, curled, and covered up. A blast of hot air like a wind blowing from hell steamed over him. Fortunately it lasted only a few moments. He looked up to see Danny also rolled in a protective ball. The dragon was shifting its attention to Battle and Crypt Kicker.
Battle fired his automatic rifle, screaming a stream of nonsensical obscenities. Crypt Kicker lumbered forward in his clumsy, stiff-legged way and began to pummel the dragon’s exposed belly. "No,” Ray shouted, “don’t hit the goddamned thing. You can’t hurt it like that.”
Ray was right. The dragon was built like a tank, only it was bigger and stronger. It flicked out a forepaw and caught Crypt Kicker in the chest with enough force to kill a normal person. Since Puckett was already dead, he just bounced back after he slammed against the wall.