Dragon

[DerVVulfman]

Chapter Twelve
The Dick, The Twit and the Brat

“BECKY!” shouted a floating Christopher Rabikes from 200 feet away. She whirled around in utter shock, How the hell did HE get here? No! Not now! “Becky, C’MON!” He began sprinting upside-down towards her.

Becky bolted and ran down the fourth-floor stairway, determined to make Roberts’ deadline. “What the hell are you running for? It’s me!” she heard Rabikes shout in confusion. Chris launched himself off the south-wing wall after her, then ran upside-down one level, stopping briefly to monitor her escape route. He floated out the 3rd floor door.

How the HELL did SHE get HERE?!? Rabikes thought. Not that his gang wasn’t searching for her, but he, Moulty and Pardy were only in the damn courthouse for the purpose of a recreational lunch! He couldn’t believe his dumb luck when he spotted her moving down the hall. Now he couldn’t believe her reaction. Where did that crazy broad thing she was going?

Two-fifteen, Becky thought, scrambling down three flights of stairs, and darting around several people on the way down. “Please get out of the way!” Mentally, she cursed the bad timing of it all. Of all the times to run into Chris, why the hell did it have to be now? She looked up the stairway quickly. No sign of him.

Catching her breath, she jumped the last few steps, hitting the ground floor, then yanked the stair-door open. Running out, she saw him again -- this time sixty feet away. He’d just shot out the side door. Seeing her, he grabbed onto a handrail, ready to propel himself again. “Why the HELL are you RUNNING?” Rabikes shouted.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!” Becky shouted back, and retraced her steps to the courthouse exit. Rabikes catapulted himself again... instinctively... into the opposite wall. THUD!

Hey! He thought. No flames? I thought I’d be toast! She’s talking! Way to go, Becky! The former police officer felt relieved. “NOW SLOW THE HELL DOWN AND TALK TO ME!”

But, the anxious aunt kept moving.

One minute, forty-five seconds! Becky marked, and thought Hold on, Julie! We’re gonna make it! Damn you, Chris! Not now! Not here! This is the worst practical joke you could ever play on--

At that moment, she decided to play one on him.

She was running towards twenty cops, all in a crowd, all in an off-duty group. Chris was gaining ground on her. Somehow she knew it. In a matter of ten seconds, he’d be around the shooting around the corner after her.

“Hey! Slow the hell down, lady!” one cop ordered. “This ain’t the Minnesota Marathon!”

Becky tried to sound helplessly pathetic. “Officer, there’s some crazy FLOATING SEX PERVERT with an eyepatch waving his... YOU-KNOW-WHAT at me!!”

“What? What? WHAT?” repeated Capt. John Silver.

Becky pretended to cry, but she was laughing inside. “His dick!” She ran as fast as she could away from the cops. “He’s trying to...”

“STOP THAT BROAD -- UHH! AHH! UGGH! OOF!” Christopher Rabikes barreled sideways around the corner and was instantly caught inside the largest policeman-sandwich of all time. Twenty angry officers slammed him down.

“Zip it up, mister!”

“Get your hands ---UFF --- off me! UHH!”

Pardy Hardy came out of nowhere (actually the cafeteria), jumped on one of the cops and kicked furiously. “LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!” They didn’t obey. Pardy shot her head left. “OH, CENSORED SHE’S GETTING AWAY!” She jumped off the police pile, kicked a blue arm and raced furiously after Becky. Moulty Rodriguez was already doing the same thing, running like plucking hell on the floor in a straight line after his fellow mutant.

One minute, ten! Take that, Chris! I’m home free! Becky thought, actually laughing at Chris’s predicament. Then she looked back once again! Oh, shit!

Moulty and Pardy were racing towards her, and Moulty was gaining! The little blue twit closed in with terrifying speed. Becky knew using her flame against them was out of the question. Moulty was too small to survive it, and Pardy’d been hurt enough this week. Keep running! This is the last hurdle! Go for it! she thought. She couldn’t let ANYTHING stop her now. There was no time left.

“GO, MOULTY, GO, MOULTY!” Pardy sang.

Becky saw her two-ounce team leader fly past her and land on one of the metal detectors. With all hiss might, he tried to seize her with his outstretched left wing. It almost worked. She shot past as Moulty’s momentum crashed him into the wall. Fifty-five seconds! Oh, God!

“HOLD IT!!!” screamed Prudence Ursula Hardy.

Becky looked back and looked in horror as Pardy drew a gun and fired. The redhead took three suction-cupped darts in the torso. POIT! POIT! POIT! Rubbery blue sticks dropped to the floor.

Oh, come ON, Pardy, she reacted, eyes glaring. This was silly.

“BURN THIS!!” Pardy shouted and emptied her last two suction-cup darts from her gun. They hit Becky in the cheek and forehead. POIT! POIT!

“Hrrrrrrrrr!” she growled. Pardy ducked, only twenty feet away. The front gate guards were closing in. Becky turned around, flicked her fingers and let loose a large flamewall-- and lept right through it to safety. It tickled. Without a second glance, she raced outside for the van.