26. The God and his Pet

Sun blistered like hell to the commonfolk of Giganto. They were thankful the gift of night was at hand with longer autumn evenings. Out of all, one figure saw the heat as blissful. Rote-Gigante stood with attention to the north. His mighty back laid against the back of his throne in admiration of the dark, "Hmm, Parshad, have you sorted the light pollution issue?" he contemplated. His handler was at their rightful position trying his best not to laugh at the god's childish wish. "I rather not waste gallons of fuel every time I wish to see them."

Stars were something he was sentimental about, a love instilled in him long ago. Rote never thought of the effect expansion had, though his people innovative they never saw this as an issue, "Well I have the bio-plan ready, I just need the bill to be signed and the harvest from Himmelborn," Parshad was shrewd, "I think we have some more...pressing matters," he coughed with hands gesturing to the guests who bowed. Royals of the country in wait for their emperor.

"Please take your time, my king," Alexander was the first of three to speak, "Take as long as you require," as a noble he dressed the part. A white suit with golden highlights that matched his gloves, a bit of a loose fit which was easily concealed with their cape. A body of white with a dark underside; his hair combed back in fine locks. Beside him was Amelia, dressed in a similar fashion and styled hair in a bun. The differing were her dead eyes concealed by glasses.

"I'd prefer if I return to my other duties," the third of the group had a voice like nails on a board. Gruff to match their appearance. Draglion had height to rival lamposts. A bulky outline in a simple suit with holes cut in the back; he wasn't afraid to spread his wings. If it wasn't obvious before by the bulging build, his head was oblong almost as a bird's. Well, it went well with their feathered neck of green. "If I may be bold, the forge is currently in disarray as Wayverion halted all shipments once news of Mandaly's attack met her ear. To be present would be my duty as a Dragnok."

"And do you not have a duty here?" Amelia broke her silence as well, "Though we all have….opinions...on the mother of metal, I doubt that greed will overthrow sense of justice…." the waver in her voice was what the others felt as well. "I trust in Wayverion's judgment."

"Then you're more optimistic than I," Rote marched around to greet them eye to eye. Parshad lowered his head and went quiet. Their topic was Mandaly, "Recently Carnel decommissioned a zenith unit in their district, on first inspection it was the same as the ones recovered near the Redlight district setting your theory true, Alexander," the god circled his throne thinking. Finger scratched the top of his cranium.

"Under the circumstance, I would trust my daughter...now? With the forces revealing their heads I cannot allow Mandaly to descend," Alexander hid intentions behind conviction. "I suggest that we send sufficient support to the location."

"Oh?" Draglion's cheeks swole from laughter, "And what is the estimate on the support? Or should we send every last troop to defend your daughter while we strip all other districts bare?" he resented the idea. "I have faith in Lucki."

"The dragon speaks true, Alexander," Rote intervened, "Do not let duty as a father cloud duty as a lord of this country, I trust in her decisions and protection under my knight" a tone no man could challenge "Though I agree mobilization of troops would be wise but do not rule out the possibilities of a fake-out," years of combat and even longer time in the study of human nature and tactics hardened the deity to his current position; wisdom that surpassed human potential.

"On this very topic, Carnel brought something to my eye," chills filled the room once Rote lowered himself. Emerald eyes stared down the three with a look of indecision, "One of the original C.C. units entered my dominion," they gulped. Options were limited in their minds. Perhaps one of the Skywings of his brother came? Perhaps it was one of the surviving Seapavers or Minebusters. It could be one of the Farmers from Brecknock. Speculation ruled Rote. "Mayhaps Proton truly stands in my presence again, I'll seek him later."

With their discussions brief it was time for the group to split, courtesy granted to the Dysons who left through the stairwell. Before Draglion spread his wings and soared a hand reclined on his shoulder, "One moment," Parshad moved from his sitting position, "His lordship wanted to speak with you in private,"

"Hmm? What is the matter?" Draglion's sigh expressed distaste.

"Worry not, I will not take too much of your time," Rote mumbled, "Turbulent times are at hand, Draglion. Not a soul desires another battle like the ones faced before- Dragonfall, Contemporary, and even the Daimon wars need not repeat. When the time comes for brothers to join hands I wish that the Dragnok, both you and the Durigon tribes aid us," the bulb in his chest. "For the time to come, prepare your body for the rite of passage, I loan an inkling of my might."

The force of a sun was unreachable for most under the world, the power of Draglion that people desired. A vicious machine born for destruction, that's what it meant to be born with dragon's blood. Though he was tamed, the daimon blood would ravage the world at an order. Because though he was a sun, the man who sat before him held a supernova in his palm. Rote-Gigante, first of the Astarama. Dragonslayer. Carrier of Vulcan's will, rust feared his frame as the world did for all the right reasons. "I understand,"

Draglion bowed and took to the skies. His body spun around to the north, his residence. Gales would guide him in minutes once wings met, "Hmm…" his beat stopped. Gaze fell to the flash of an eye that looked at him from the streets of the outer ring below. They sprinted from in, under the cover of alleys. Suspicion stole his thought. Their chase ensued.

Draglion was a jet in living form, arms held out stopped him from crashing into the ground. Hardly were souls around, perfect. Speed was the game and he was a pro, darting through the narrow streets with few flaps. Around the corners his arms charged the turns, carrying their weight for the tilts. Right, left, right. Their target was a fast one under the cover of a cowl, "Run as much as you like, I haven't broken a sweat in centuries," he bragged to only himself.

With proper perception, he saw past the corners of the cowl to the flame of thrusters strapped to their back. A metal torso. His eyes thinned and accuracy went on point. Another turn came into sight. The figure spun again. Draglion's fingers flickered, his very nails tore off and became bullets lodged into the side of the escapee's leg and side. They fell off-balanced. In the second it cost for them to shift back to position Draglion had more than enough time to pin them with the force of a cannonball. Against the stone of the alley where the dust fell on the victim. A duffle bag at his side, "You…,"

Draglion bared fangs ready to bite the head of the figure. The cowl removed, "You're the brat my son roams with," the greasy gear's owner, Strider. Shredding the goods he found a stark discovery. Metal billets, schematics, rusted limbs among medical equipment. Vials of clear bubbling fluids among lab equipment and 'samples', "What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh, nice to meetcha," Strider coughed blood, "Just on a walk to deliver some stuff...nothing much-" the strain on his collarbone greater when Draglion raised him overhead. Mouth open with the fires of hell brimming within their throat. "Ah….Hey, can I get some help here!?"

Draglion turned behind, eyes warped by rage at the sight of a fool twiddling their thumbs, "Tome. Before I have to fly to the ocean and spread ashes explain what you two are doing," borderline illegal features belonged to Strider, his reputation preceded himself as well.

"Well…" there was nothing he could say before a slap crossed his face.

"Have my lessons meant nothing to you?" Draglion released his prey, "A senior agent of the GNS teamed with a criminal transporting possible narcotics within city borders. Sounds like a headline filled with regret," Tome was a giant among men, compared to his father he was but a child. Almost twice his size minus the horns. "I know you had a hand in the redlight incident, your reasoning?"

Tome needed a deep breath before continuing. All knew he had no defense, "A friend of mine in Mandaly researching their port disease has a clue on the breakthrough, but he can't get certain items into the border without starting a panic," Draglion took a moment of reflection. Fumes escaped his mouth and mind.

"Boy," a bone-chilling call, "If that were the case then why does this one carry scrap?" Tome inched away from the growing father. The mention of Mandaly set off a switch in the veteran's head, "That city is riddled with terrorists and freaks alike, you were present at their factory too. If I find out that you're tied to these terrorists I swear upon Bahamuth….." he held his temples. "Your mother will hear of this."

To swear upon the grand ancestor was the greatest of pacts a Dragnok could make. Draglion was lenient but firm. A finger aimed to the right with their other arm covering their face, "Go already," he gave Tome the benefit of the doubt. Before he removed his hand the duo left with the winds.

"That boy," Draglion walked slowly through the empty alleys. Blue lights shimmered on the ground where he stomped. Just yesterday Tome hatched...now he stands before the throne a man, yet he is only a man, "Until the day you're prepared to be a dragon, I will await you," that sentiment carried across all of his spawn. Blue was the road of memories to the veteran who built the very grounds most walked upon now. The Contemporary and Daimon wars were of years logged in history books now, so was the timeless age of magical beasts.

On the road of an eternal blue, he saw one blot of red. Far into the sky was an eye which glowed to him, "What...is that?" a figure he's never seen before. Two fingers in the form of a gun pointed at the figure, "You belong in a laboratory…" bang. Faster than light was the culmination of magic that flew off his finger. Draglion continued to walk, right to the entrance of the street where the body collapsed.

A collapse similar to someone's dropping stomach. This very night hundreds of kilometers away a pair stood in Mandaly. The famed ports of the arched towns were a spectacle at night. Windy nights under a blanket of dark blue and white stars, a deep ocean that drew in all as the giant ships left harbor….that vision was warped, however. Floating bodies and chunks continued bubbling from the depths. Organs and blood boiled, fitting of how the citizens felt about the situation. On the pier's end, Lena stood wearing a mask and peering from afar. "Hey, do you wanna jump in or something?"

Dynamo sat beside her with a clipped nose, "Catch," equipment was thrown from his leather sack of goodies. A black ventilator to fit around the mouth with filters on the side. A compact gas mask was the perfect description with the filters not prodding out, though still replaceable. A slit existed on the top and sides for the rest of the glass shield, "I shouldn't have to tell you not stay too close to it," he was in that business mode once more. Lena was more fixated on the sea than anything, she couldn't walk forward.

A red stripe was added to the ground restricting access to the ocean by fifteen feet. A sigh left with the helpless figure relying on this rogue unit to acquire samples with the vials in his satchel, "Why am I even here?" she pouted as the unit dove to collect a sample. She tried not to puke at the thought of him reaching into that broth from hell. Her head faced left where crowds gathered. "Hmm? Oh-"

Off the bat, anyone knew the face of the press. Leeches in suits, one of the few jobs a machine could never fill on account of how annoying they could be. Each waved a mic in the face of their target, following along spouting questions hoping for a proper interrogation. Who did they trail? The local Dyson of course. No man dared to get closer than a few meters or risk the anger of the firey knight with a burning spear; Carnel's gaze made them flinch at every move.

"Whatcha looking at," Dynamo brushed off his hands, "Christ, those clowns don't have an off button," he scoffed at the press before noticing Carnel. Though she looked back, she wasn't his focus. That spear made him whistle. The plasma of her spear was different from Carmine's, he saw why with the thin frame that would fit over the point. Three ends met at the tip where it held a magnetic cap, creating a point for the plasma to reach and not rely on laminar flow. "Phew, real beauty isn't it?"

Lena silently eyed him before returning on course. It was clear as day those reporters wouldn't get a single answer out of the Dyson who wished just to walk along the pier of death. Eyes dead like the fish she caught lighting up with her ex-butler and new friend waving. Of course, the reporters noted this and shifted questions towards them. Some even attempted a charge forgetting about Carnel above. She rolled her eyes seeing the shift in uncomfortable natures about to hit her Dyson's new friend. Air hissed with burning plasma. She stomped the ground, landing directly between the reporters and them. "And this is as far as you'll go."

"If you don't disperse you'll have a one-on-one with that cesspool over there," her thumb aimed over her shoulder at the scum body. She meant business with the inaudible crack of knuckles. They quivered in Carnel's presence, once she stepped forward not a soul remained. "Ah, finally."

"They can't let up, can't they?" Lucki sighed on approach to the others, "I just wanted to take a break and….watch the ships leave, oh" upon facing the harbor the grand blue vessels were already halfway out the sea. An added tip pierced through the sludge with roaring whistles. However, only half of the ship was filled with cargo, who knew what the underside storage held as well, "Goods are starting to run thin, we can't export at this rate…" Lucki focused on the negatives. "Well besides that, what are you two up to?"

Her notice landed on the samples Dynamo packed, "Just collecting pieces of this mess to check if port disease is in it," he admitted. A response earned confused looks from both Carnel and Lucki who didn't know how to break the news.

"Idiot, our scientists did that a week ago when both started surfacing," Carnel broke silence, "How else did you think we knew it was linked?" the very obvious was pointed out, leaving Dynamo looking at his feet. "Why are you even pretending to be a doctor now? Isn't your field more along the lines of automation?"

Mechanics and automation were Dynamo's forte besides the obvious he was designed for, "Yeah, my forte is in a field where automated machines, that I helped build, took over. Talk about options heh," he poked fun at the thought.

"Well stick to it. You should know by now you can't help everyone," a tense mood was draped over by the knight. With little left to say after the exchange Dynamo shuffled back to the ocean's end and dumped his samples. Gently returning to where he stood before remaining as quiet as ever.

"Well…." Lucki gulped, "The only fix we can currently think of is prevention, meaning the incineration of that scum," large mechs were in charge of torching the remnants, however, this didn't prevent more from escaping from the depths. There was hardly a thing to discuss after the machines let the girls talk and catch up, the uncomfortable silence remained between two who refused to talk. Night was short, they needed to walk on.

Before they parted, a note from the hand of the blue maiden slipped into the palm of the rogue unit.