[ 25 ]

THE DATAHATERS WILL GO ON A ROBOT KILLING SPREE

“What are you doing, following me?!” I growl.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Weak Sauce,” growls Trenx. “I just flew up here to this deck to get away from the crowds below. And now I find you here!”

I wrap my tail more tightly around the observation post’s main beam.

What is this fool doing here? There’s no way this is a coincidence. Trenx is up to something. He’s playing an angle here. Think, Gork. Think!

“Whatever,” I say. “Hey,” trying to act all casual, “you haven’t seen Runcita Floop around this morning, have you?”

“Oh come on, you too?!” he says. “Are you crazy? Dean Floop would never in a million years let you take her to EggHarvest—”

I grab this robot by his cape collar and twist my talon tight.

“Listen,” I growl. “I’ve been having a real bad morning so far. And the truth is I have a lot of pent-up frustration. So answer my damn question. Have you seen Runcita?!”

Mr. Gigabyte looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. He reaches up and smacks my talon off his collar like he’s swatting away a nasty fly. Then he steps back and arrogantly swings his long silver neck from left to right, so that the cape collar falls naturally the way it’s supposed to.

Now by this point I’ve had about all I can take from this Reptilizoid. Here he thinks he’s some sort of badass because of those mega black horns on his silver head, and he has no idea the only reason he even has those horns is because of me. Because Dr. Terrible is using him to get to me.

So without really thinking about what I’m doing, I open my beak and squirt a jetstream of venom right at his scaly metal face.

Or some dragons just call it “juice.” The venom, that is.

Now like every other dragon here on the island, I’ve got venom sacs lining my throat and I can shoot juice up to forty feet with pretty much near perfect accuracy. And the venom can be lethal for a good many creatures in the galaxy, but not for another dragon.

Though if another cadet splats you with some juice then you’ll get a demented rash and probably have to go to the WarWings Medical Center to fetch some sort of ointment to put on your scales.

Anyway, the venom squirts out my beak in a jetstream and flashes through the air and zooms straight for Trenx’s face.

But then at the last second he gracefully bobs his big silver head to one side and dodges the stream.

“I ought to rip your heart out and eat it for pulling a stunt like that!” he growls.

He peers at the sizzling venom on the gold column and then looks back at me in disbelief. He crouches down low on his chrome-flex haunches and hisses and big sparks spray out of his beak and bounce off my scaly green face.

“Try that again, Weak Sauce, I dare you!” he snarls. “Squirt some more of your nasty juice at me and I promise it’ll be the last thing you ever do! I’ll chop your dang head off and feed your brains to my pet cheetah back in my lair! And yeah, fool, of course I know today’s Crown Day! I just got that chick Yavarka to be my Queen!”

Now I’ve seen Trenx’s pet cheetah in his lair and that thing is no joke.

“Yavarka?!” I growl, flapping my wings. “Come on, how is that even possible?”

Yavarka is easily one of the juiciest and most luscious dragon chicks in our grade. And so I figure he has to be lying.

Mr. Gigabyte flicks his powerstaff and a holovid appears in the air. The floating holovid shows the robot down on one haunch, holding out his crown to a surprised Yavarka. And even though you can’t hear what the robot is saying it’s obvious he’s asking that dragonette to be his Queen. Either that or he’s serenading her with his Mating Song.

Then the holovid jumps to another shot of luscious scaly Yavarka who’s now proudly wearing Trenx’s crown, and she’s grinning at the screen and giving the thumb-claws-up sign.

And you know how they say the camera always adds ten pounds?

Well in the holovid clip, this robot’s two mega black horns look twenty pounds heavier.

Now I can’t believe this Datalizard got that faboo Normal chick Yavarka to be his Queen, especially considering he’s a robot. But I guess once you’re a member of Masters of Chaos, a hot Normal chick will jump at the chance to be your Queen. Don’t matter if you’re a robot or not.

Well once word gets out about this, the DataHaters will be going ballistic.

They’ll go on a robot-killing spree.

“Hey bud.” I reach out with my talons and straighten his cape collar a little. “My bad,” I purr. “Listen, have you seen Runcita? Help a brother out. I feel like I’m running in circles here, chasing my own tail.”

I watch Trenx carefully. Because his eyes are now glowing bright red from the inside like instead of a brain he has an active volcano in his skull. And when a robot’s eyes glow bright red it’s always a surefire sign that he’s about to go bronco and rip somebody’s lungs out.

I whisk my tail around behind me, keeping it ready in case I have to dive off the observation post.

Then unexpectedly the glowing red light in the robot’s eyes starts to fade.

“OK. I hear ya,” says Trenx, looking like his old self. “Let me see what I can do.” He speaks some code into this tiny boss microphone attached to his cape collar. I have to assume this is a Masters of Chaos microphone, a way for members to keep in touch with one another.

Then he turns to look at me, and sprays sparks out his metal beak. “OK, word is that Runcita’s right now in the Dining Hall munching on a bat sandwich,” he says. “That’s actionable intelligence. You can bet the farm on it. I don’t think you should do this but if your mind’s made up, well then there you go. But just don’t tell nobody where you got Runcita’s coordinates, OK? Because it could cost me my membership in Masters, and getting kicked out of Masters is no picnic on account of before they kick you out they kill you. And I don’t much feel like dying today. So I had to lie and say the intel on Runcita was for another member. So you didn’t hear this from me, OK?”

I wipe the sweat off my scaly brow with the back of my talon.

“Thanks, buddy,” I whisper, flapping my wings. “You’re the best. Seriously. I really appreciate it.”

Then I clench my talon into a fist and hold it up high for a talon bump.

But Trenx just stares at my fist in the air like it’s a piece of moldy broccoli.

Then I see the robot’s left eye twitch like something’s bothering his psyche but he’s trying to hide it.

Oh, so that’s how it is now.

Big horns don’t bump talons with small horns, that’s some kind of unwritten rule.

He knows it and now I know it.

And now he has that boss FEAR ME tattoo on his shiny silver wing to prove it.

I keep my clenched talon in the air for the bump.

And truthfully it seems like Trenx is just going to leave me hanging.

But finally he reaches up and quickly bumps it like he’s scared that I might be contagious.

Then his eyes get serious. “But I should warn you, Weak Sauce,” he says. “I heard that Bruggert—”

I don’t wait to hear the rest.

I leap off the observation deck and flap my wings and take off flying in the direction of the Dining Hall.

Where is my Queen?

But it turns out I should’ve stayed and listened. Because that robot Trenx was aiming to warn me about this ruthless and hideous dragon named Bruggert in my senior class. Bruggert is definitely the most ghastly bastard in our senior class and the most deranged member of the Masters of Chaos at WarWings. A true super-fiend. And Mr. Gigabyte was trying to warn me that Bruggert had put the word out on the Masters of Chaos network that he was going to offer Runcita his crown for EggHarvest, and any other fool dragon who tried to ask Runcita would instantly be mutilated and killed.

Now when I replay the events of this Crown Day in my scaly head, I’ve often wondered how things would’ve turned out if only I had stayed on the observation post that morning and listened to the robot’s warning.

But instead I just fly out of the Coliseum of Heroes like a moron and flap my leathery wings and keep zooming onward.

Thwack-thwack.