[ 12 ]

MY SCALY GREEN ASS GETS AMBUSHED

“Yo what’s up, Weak Sauce?!”

The voice is right behind me and it slices through my brain like a blade.

Then I feel a talon grab my wingjoint, and that same voice growls: “Fancy finding you here, Weak Sauce! Ha-ha! At first I heard somebody singing here in the hallway and I was thinking who’s the big singing moron? But then I turned and saw that it was you, Weak Sauce! Your singing led me right to you!”

My nostrils flare and I try to pull away but there’s nothing I can do because this talon has my wingjoint clapped firmly in its grip.

Now my webbed feet clench again and my toe claws shoot out so far this time they make a screech sound as they cut deep into the floor. And the talon gripping my wingjoint from behind is squeezing even harder, making sure I can’t twist free from its grip.

I crouch down low on my haunches and growl. A firestream rises up out of my belly and shoots into my throat and flickers over my tongue and then halts and hovers at the back of my fangs. I’m gargling fire.

And I hiss and spray sparks out my beak.

“Hey Weak Sauce, why so antisocial?”

And:

“Can Weak Sauce come out to play? Ha-ha!”

I’d know that voice anywhere.

So I spin around and sure enough. It’s this robot. Trenx.

This Datalizard is grinning at me with this deranged look on his metal beak. When the robot sees the look on my scaly face, he squirts flamestreams out his nostrils and purrs, “Why so edgy on this glorious Crown Day morning? Now you’re not going to faint, are you?”

This Datalizard Trenx always acts like we’re fiendish buds even though we aren’t. He reckons that gently mocking my scaly green ass this way is code for how close we really are, as if we’re brothers in flame who used to raid and pillage planets together or something.

I’m whipping my tail back and forth, trying to use it as an outlet for the big freak-out that’s building up inside me. Because it’s super important that right now I don’t blow my stack. Too much is on the line. I mean here I am on my Queen Quest and so there’s definitely no room for idiot emotions or bogus distractions.

I glance over the robot’s wingtip and spot Runcita right across the hallway. And as soon as she finishes flapping her beak with her villainous dad Dean Floop, then I’ll go over there and present her with my crown. My Queen Quest will finally be over.

Meanwhile my horns are still tingling, which means they’re acting as antennae and picking up on some specific danger right here in front of me. But for my horns to be going bonkers like this seems kind of weird.

Because this Reptilizoid is one of the few cadets in my senior class that I don’t have to regard as a savage predator who could eat me. Because the day this robot becomes a legit threat to me is the day that I’ll just fold my wings up and call it quits as a dragon.

Still grinning like a lunatic, the robot reaches up and slings his metal talon on my shoulderbone as if he’s holding me at forelimb’s length so he can get a good look at me.

“Yo you’re wigging out, Weak Sauce! You gots to chill!”

I casually reach up and knock his steel talon off my shoulder.

Trenx, aka Mr. Gigabyte.

This robot has a way of popping up wherever I am and always at the exact moment when he’s the farthest thing from my mind and the last fiend I want to see. You know the type of fool I’m talking about. Because in the cruel hierarchy that is the WarWings rating system, this Datalizard is a straight-up bottom feeder. I mean a couple weeks back I pulled down this robot’s Cadet Profile and his WILL TO POWER rank was a lousy FlameToy.

And so when you think about it, it actually seems like kind of a miracle that Mr. Gigabyte here has managed to survive all four years at WarWings. Because usually robot cadets with a FlameToy get eaten by the DataHaters.

Now as I study Mr. Gigabyte’s stupid grinning beak, my black heart flutters in my chest and I feel just a tiny pang of pity for this poor fool. And as a WarWings dragon I’m sure not proud to have to be telling you this, and trust me, I know it’s despicable. But the truth is it’s just my natural way to try and see the good in a fella. Even when it comes to a low-down loser like Trenx.

Dr. Terrible and I have been over this before, during our weekly WTP sessions. And we’ve even discussed my relationship with this robot.

My grandpa told me I was a wussy for even talking to Trenx and that my stupid jumbo oversensitive heart is messing up my natural dragon instincts. And Dr. Terrible said the next time this Mech-Freak dared to speak to me in public, well that I should just attack him and eat him right there on the spot. Of course Dr. Terrible doesn’t give a crap about this robot one way or the other, but he said it was just the principle of the matter.

Plus Dr. Terrible says weak WILL TO POWER is contagious. And that it sends the wrong message to the Normal dragonettes to even allow them to see me jabbering with a degenerate loser robot like Trenx in public. And that it seriously damages my MATING MAGNETISM too. And my grandpa says when I try and see the good in a piece of robot trash like Trenx I’m really just hurting myself.

But these are just my natural instincts, so what are you going to do?

Anyway, so my point is the one good thing I’ve been able to discover about this robot over the years is he’s the only cadet at WarWings with horns that are actually smaller than mine.

He has an inch up there, if he’s lucky.

Because if you want to know the truth, this Datalizard’s horns are downright microscopic.

So when I stand next to Trenx he always makes my two-inchers look seriously mega.

And because this robot is such a pathetic loser, I always feel a little sorry for him. And so I can’t bring myself to completely ignore him or blast him with firestreams like the other dragons from my senior class do. I mean sure, Mr. Gigabyte here tries so damn hard to be cool that it makes your scales crawl. And having this Reptilizoid around definitely isn’t going to help you score any dragonettes.

But it just never made sense to me to spit venom on a fella when he’s down. Which of course Dr. Terrible says is a big part of my problem. The fact that I’m not such a big fan of spitting venom on a fella when he’s down. Because out at the Institute, my grandpa told me that’s exactly when you’re supposed to spit venom on a robot like Trenx, is when they’re down.

And one time recently during our weekly session, Dr. Terrible told me that’s why Datalizards like Trenx let themselves get so low in the first place. Because it makes them an easier target in terms of spitting venom on them. And my grandpa said he’s not in the habit of doing favors for Mech-Freaks and robot trash and such. But when it comes to spitting venom on a Tin Can like Trenx who’s already down, well that’s one favor he can’t help himself from doing.

Now when Dr. Terrible uses the phrase “spitting venom,” he’s using it as a euphemism for eating them.

Then Dr. Terrible concluded that particular session by making me promise that the next time this robot Trenx tried to talk to me in public, I would attack him and eat him right there on the spot.

And so because Dr. Terrible had been filling my head with his DataHater garbage, I’d promised. “OK yes,” I’d said to Dr. Terrible. I would eat Trenx the next time he tried to talk to me in public.

I could tell my promise made my grandpa happy. And my grandpa had thumped me on one of my wings and said, “Don’t do it for me, do it for you.” He said, “You’ve got to connect with your inner Terrible.” He told me attacking and eating that Datalizard Trenx would do wonders for my class ranking and my rep.

And I remember I’d said, “What rep?”

And he’d said, “Exactly my point.”

So after making that promise to Dr. Terrible during our session, anytime I saw Trenx approaching me I’d just turn and run the other way. But now here the sorry Dragobot is, squatting right in front of me.

“Hey,” says Trenx, still grinning at me like a lunatic. “I like your red cape!” He spins around to show me that he too is wearing a red cape.

Great. Now the fool is jacking my signature style.

Maybe it won’t be so hard to find motivation to eat this bastard after all.

“Your cape looks just like mine,” I growl.

“I know, right? What a coincidence, huh? I guess when we’re together our coolness factor gets multiplied by two. Lucky I found you here then!”

For a moment I just study the Datalizard’s silver skull. I’m stunned. And now I understand why my horns are tingling like crazy.

Because on top of Trenx’s chrome-plated head are two long black shiny horns which curve near the top and finish off with incredibly savage-looking spikes.

I feel like I am literally squatting in the shadow of this robot’s horns.

Whereas my horns are so small I couldn’t even use them to gore a flea.

This Datalizard’s big badass horns make me sick with envy. And the fact that this robot is able to make me feel so jealous is almost more depressing than anything else.

I suddenly feel like I want to take a running leap headfirst down a black hole.

I use my index claw to tap the screen on my powerstaff and see that Trenx’s WILL TO POWER has exploded.

He’s rocking a MegaBeast.

I point my claw at his silver head and growl, “Yo, who’d you have to murder to get those babies? Are those things prosthetics or what?”

He chuckles.

And I can tell by his chuckle that he’s been waiting all along for me to notice his new horns.

He laid the trap and now my scaly green ass has walked right into it.