Doc Tesseract

The adventures of Greg Silverman, retail industry employee, prospective college student and superhero.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Dragon Attack!, Part 3: Homeopathic Dragon Hatchings

Hey. I'm sorry I'm not posting so frequently, but Quint gave me some "special" pills, because, according to him, magical fire inflicts different wounds than good old normal fire. The interesting side effect is that I feel like the drugged-out bastard lovechild of Hunter S. Thompson and Timothy Leary for twelve hours a day. I only have a few good hours of lucidity, and I've just come upon my daily dosage of normality.

So, I port Quint, Punch, Judy and myself into the middle of Chinatown. Quint's putting out the call to everyone else in Philly regarding what's about to go down, while Judy uses her mental compass to find where Maria got dragged. We end up outside a pharmacy dealing in natural remedies.

"Why is it that showdowns with organized crime groups always take place in the most stereotyped businesses of the related ethnicity?" I ask.

"In this case, it makes sense," Quint says. "The man who runs this pharmacy is an expert in the focus and manipulation of chi. Let's go."

"I'm just saying, we're one step away from a showdown in a laundromat," I say to no one as we burst in through the door. We can safely say that there is no dragon-summoning mojo going down in the aisles. At that moment, the owner walks in.

"Hello, how may I--?" Then he notices the fact that we're dressed for Halloween. He quickly starts moving his hands about in the air and chanting in Chinese, and I start feeling like I just ate bad Thai laced with anthrax. I notice Judy is sweating similarly, and even Punch is just standing there, like he's not really focused on moving himself. I try hard not to lose my lunch when, suddenly, I hear a sound like someone hitting a steak with a baseball bat, and the Stomachache from Hell subsides. I look up, and see that Mr. Ancient Chinese Secret has been knocked out, and Lady Liberty is standing over him.

"I was in the area for lunch," she says by way of explanation. "Talon and Pulse are on the way here. Silver's gonna be watching for backup; you said 'dragon', and I don't think he's keen on being melted down for scrap."

"Very well," Quint says in reply. He turns to us all. "Who wants to save the day?"

And so, we end up charging up the stairs. Quint yells, "Rana!" and takes the door out with a firebolt, because he can never knock. Suddenly, a John Woo scene broke out, with bullets streaming through the empty frame. Punch quickly takes the lead, while Quint takes the time to create pockets of turbulence that will (hopefully) divert the bullets around the rest of us. After taking that necessary precaution, we charge in.

The room's done up in red, with writings in Mandarin in gold paint on the walls. Some people who I presume are the four mystics are chained around something that looks like the biggest oblong pearl in existence, which I surmise to probably be the dragon egg. They're all chanting loudly, trying to avoid the gunfire and, more pointedly, the guys who are pointing guns at their heads. At the other end of the room, a guy's wearing a white suit and firing off an AK-47, screaming, "Don't let them stop the ritual!"


I know there's no way I can teleport the mystics away without at least one of them dying horribly; I'm quick, but these guys are probably quicker. I settle for porting some of the bad guys to the local precinct; of course, I port their firearms away before doing it. I don't want anyone else getting killed.

It's at this moment that I hear a slowly rising sound, like walnuts getting trod on by horses. I turn around, and I see cracks forming in the egg. It's also at this very moment that Wu decides to take aim at me and fire off a couple of rounds. I'm quicker, though; I teleport behind Punch--

--who the rounds deflect off of--

--and watch as they go through one of the signs on the wall. Wu gets a look on his face like a kid who's just been told Santa is really John Wayne Gacy in disguise.

"I take it that wasn't a good thing?" I ask Quint weakly.

"The bullet's just burst through one of the sigils meant to influence the dragon," he says back, just as weakly.

"Uh... mind telling us which one?" Punch asks.

There's a sickening pause, during which I can only hear the egg cracking at a rapidly increasing rate. "Control," Quint answers.

Then the dragon bursts forth. It's about ten feet long already, and that's just for beginners. It's got golden scales, claws that look like they could Ginsu titanium, and the eyes... I'd rather not talk about the eyes. And the first thing this quickly growing dragon does is turn on Wu.

"Good dragon?" is the only thing Wu can say.

Then it bites his head off.

"Run!" yells Quint. The guards run for their lives; I take the opportunity to port the mystics to (relative) safety, then port the others out onto the street.

Which gives us about two seconds in down time. Because we turn around, and the dragon's head just erupts out of the roof of the pharmacy. As if to say, "But wait, fuckers, there's more!", he lets out a torrent of flame, then takes flight. How, I don't know; probably mystic fucking mojo, because he doesn't have any wings. At this point, he's about thirty feet long, and he's still. getting. bigger.

"We're gonna need a bigger boat," says Lady Liberty.

I'd like to finish this story, but it's time for the Happy Funtime Dementia Pills. I'll bring this to the thrilling conclusion tomorrow.

Not that you didn't see it on the news on anything.


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