Dragon

[DerVVulfman]

Chapter Six
The Miracle Worker

“Remember that nameless drug I gave you? Roberts asked. “And your fluid bath? Both my inventions. Am I good? Say something.”

“Oh, my God,” Becky breathed. “You... you cured me?”

“No, I... don’t have that power. I found a way to regulate your flame, that’s all.”

“Regulate it? You mean turn it on and off, or something?”

“Exactly. I like your voice, Dragon. It’s music to my stethoscope.”

“B-B-But how do I turn this on and off? How do I control it?”

“You won’t burn me if I tell you?”

“No, of course I won’t! Tell me, please-- ”

“All right,” agreed Roberts. “It’s very simple. Pretend I’m you. My arms are your arms. Watch me. You clench your fists... then flick out your fourth and seventh fingers. Don’t do it here, you’ll burn your Scheiders. We can practice later. Don’t you want to talk some more?

“YES!!!” Becky jumped off the bed.

“Of course, there’s just one thing you have to do in return,” Roberts reminded her.

“Doc, I won’t...”

“Kill for us.”

? ? ?

Back at Mutant Central, no news was not good news. Fred had reassembled himself, and Furfy had calmed down a bit. Lizzie was wearing herself out on the wavelengths and getting no decent info in return. Moulty had almost perished an hour ago when Rabikes mistakenly shut the door to the microwave. He was recuperating in his cage. Rabikes was floating all over the country but found nothing.

“Take a break, miss,” Furfy told Lizzie. “You’ve done more work than all of us combined.”

Lizzie stopped. “I’ll try again in ten minutes, Mr. Furfy.”

Fred asked Furfy, “Would ya like an apple?”

“No, I would not like an apple.”

“How ‘bout you, Miz Hardy?”

Lizzie nodded, kissed the apple and added it to her collection.

“Wooooooozy,” Moulty moaned.

What kind of pathetic operation is this? Furfy thought. Chris floating over the city like some idiotic one-eyed balloon, plus this Freshee guy--

Pardy Hardy burst in loudly, slamming the door and pushing Fred aside. “Outta the way, stupid.” Her wrist and hand were bandaged.

“Pardy?” asked Diamond, surprised.

“Nooo, F. Murray Abraham! WHO THE HECK DO YA THINK IT IS!!! No more chores for me today, alright? I’ve been wounded in the line of duty!”

“Hiya, Prudence,” Fred greeted.

“I’ll prudence you right up your apple-pickin’ sorry behind, ya piece of-- ”

“Pardy!” Lizzie shouted. “I forgot all about you!”

“You would, Ho-o brain!” Her face scrunched up in an imitation of evil. “Now where is she,” Pardy asked in a guttural voice. “I got a score to settle!”

“How did you get back?” Lizzie asked.

“I hitch-hiked!”

“You WHAT?!?”

“Well, I tried to, but the first guy ordered me to get the hell out of his Pontiac after ten minutes, so I ran back to the hospital, jumped on top of a movie ambulance like Gennivivia Bujollawhatever in “Coma,” then I got to the 17th street bridge, so I jumped down to the lower street on top of a school bus, just like Dirty Harry, and then here I am.”

“Outstanding,” Fred marveled.

“That’s dangerous!” Lizzie shouted.

“That’s dangerous!” Pardy mocked, saying it with a pathetically whiny tone.

“Wooooo-zy,” complained Moulty.

Pardy slammed her fists together. “Now where is that red-headed, big-boobed, punching-bag-to-be-- ” Then she saw Furfy. “WOW!!!” Until now, the two had never met. She was fascinated, not repelled, by his face.

Furfy tried not to seem scary. He smiled at Pardy, said “Are you threatening my girlfriend?” He knelt down close to her face.

Lizzie could’ve sworn she heard Pardy say “tee-hee,” but it couldn’t be... could it?

“David Furfy, Pardy Hardy,” Lizzie introduced them.

Pardy Furfy? thought Pardy, intrigued. What da hell does he see in Becky?

“I’ll tell you, Pardy,” Furfy said. “You have kind of a take-charge attitude. Maybe we need some more of that here. Your parakeet friend’s out of commission. Maybe you’re the one who should be leading this group.”

“Eep!” Lizzie gulped.

“OH, GOD, NO!!” Diamond screamed. Fred’s apple fell out of his mouth.

“YEAH!” Pardy slapped Furfy’s hand. “Consider it dooded!” The phone rang. Pardy snatched it up, barked “We don’t want any!” and hung up. It immediately rang again. “What?” Pardy asked, annoyed. Then she sneered at Lizzie. “Tom Christian on line two.”

? ? ?

“There’s no way,” Becky said. “I won’t kill for you.”

“Yes, you will,” Roberts replied calmly.

“No, I won’t.”

He just stared at her with that patronizing smile of his, saying nothing.

“Stop that,” Becky told him.

“You are going to be so good.” There was pride in his voice.

“This is as good as I get. Do I have to stay here?”

“You have clearance for all of deck 13, which this is. If you try to visit the other decks unattended, it’ll be very painful.”

“Uh-huh. You said I could have any soldier on this ship,” she reminded.

“Yes, I did. Get in line and we’ll give you five.”

“One will do for now. Where’s Sgt. Hunt?”

“Excuse me?” Roberts turned, surprised.