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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BLACKDIRGE" data-source="post: 6956330" data-attributes="member: 1953">Sometimes You Need the Big GunOkay, this another short piece that was created as a writing exercise. In this case, we had to throw together a 1,000 word story in an hour, and the story had to use these four words: caustic, vermilion, pariah, and maleficent. Some of those were definitely easier to work into this mess than others (as you'll see). Anyway, what I ended up with is an urban fantasy mishmash that I kind of like. The story itself has some issues, but I sort of dig the larger world it hints at. Maybe I'll come back to the idea someday and flesh it out with a short story or even a novella. [HR][/HR]Sometimes You Need the Big Gun“Code Vermilion?” Richards said. “What the hell is that?” Daniels looked down at the data display in the center of the Corvette’s console—where a navigation system would usually go—and frowned. The words CODE VERMILLION were splashed across the black screen in vivid scarlet . . . or vermilion, he guessed. “Never seen that one,” he said, still looking at the screen. “Location?”“It’s coming through now,” Richards said. “Corner of Western and Lenora.” “Well, we’re closest,” Daniels said and put his foot down. The Corvette’s engine roared, and the car shot forward. One of the BFA’s three patrol cars, this one, the fastest, was called the Maleficent, and Daniels had just recently been assigned to street patrol. That he’d gotten his hands on Maleficent was a stroke of luck, although the Corvette did have the downside of getting to the scene quicker than any of the other cars. Depending on the fairy creature running amok, that could be quite dangerous. They screamed through the streets of downtown Seattle, minutes away from their destination. Daniels could see smoke, red smoke, rising over the city in the direction they were travelling. “What do we got in the back?” Richards said. “Anything big?”“Just the Anzio,” Daniel’s replied, grinning. “Daddy’s favorite pop-gun.” He’d been with the BFR—the Bureau of Fairy Affairs—for a couple of years now, and his predilection for heavy military ordinance and a willingness to use it had made him somewhat of a pariah. Still, he got the job done, and he really didn’t care what the others in the bureau thought of his methods. Richards, his partner for the last year, was good with it, and that’s all that mattered. Richards chuckled. “Well, let’s hope its something big then.” Daniels grinned. “I always do.” They’d reached Lenora, a sharply slanted cobblestone street with a great view of the Puget Sound. There were no other cars on the road, and Daniels slowed Maleficent to a crawl. It had suddenly grown very warm, and the street ahead was obscured by a cloud of red smoke. Daniels hit the brakes and put the Vette in park. “Let’s just have a look,” he said, starting to feel that excitement he always felt just before he put a bullet into something. Richards nodded, reached into the glove compartment, and pulled out his sidearm, a Smith & Wesson .500. The revolver had been a gift from Daniels, and it packed enough punch to knock an ogre on its ass. Daniels got out of the car and was immediately struck by the heat and the slightly caustic smell in the air. He went around to the back of the Corvette and popped the hatchback. Inside were the pieces of his Anzio, a massive 20 mm anti-material rifle. It was meant to be fired from the ground, braced with a bipod, but it could be shoulder-fired in a pinch. The gun’s original military purpose was to take out vehicles, sending its massive explosive-tipped bullets into and through engine blocks, light-armored personnel carriers, and such. It could also ruin the day of a rampaging frost giant, remove most of a troll’s head, and even crack the stony skin of the duergar. He hoisted the massive rifle up, and set it atop the Corvette, bracing its considerable wait on the vehicle. The smoke below was billowing toward them, and the faint sounds of screams were audible but muted through the haze. He also heard what sounded like chains beings scraped against the asphalt; that particular sound was moving toward them. Richards was on the other side of the car, aiming the Smith & Wesson at the smoke. He turned toward Daniels, pointed with his revolver, and made the fingers of his left hand walk across the hood of the Vette. He wanted to get down there, see what was happening. Normally, Daniels would be right there with him, but he didn’t like where this was going. There was a fairly large dimensional nexus not far from here, in the Seattle Sculpture Park, and he felt wait-and-see was a better option. Daniels shook his head, opened his mouth to give Richards an order, and then left it hanging open when their “target” came rushing out of the smoke. He’d never seen a dragon; they were supposed to be intelligent but so belligerent and dangerous they rarely applied for asylum on Earth, and even when they did, it was never granted. This dragon was snakelike, perhaps thirty feet long, and covered in red scales. It had four legs ending in taloned feet or hands, a long, whip-like tail, and a head that was all teeth and horns. Hanging from its dagger-filled mouth was the limp body of a young man—at least the parts the dragon hadn’t eaten yet.“That’s a goddamn dragon,” Richards whispered, his eyes big as dinner plates. His gun was hanging at his side, almost completely forgotten. Daniels had seen this kind of thing before—sometimes the creatures that came through the nexus were so out there they just short-circuited your brain.Daniels was afraid, sure, but had seen enough combat not to be completely rattled by one of the most feared monsters of mythology. He racked a round into the Anzio and took aim. The dragon heard the noise, instantly realized the threat, and dropped its meal onto the cobblestones with a wet plop. It reared up, its snaky neck bringing its head ten feet above the street. It opened its mouth and sucked in a huge lungful of air. It was what Daniels had been waiting for. He raised the muzzle of the Anzio, sighted in, and pulled the trigger. The massive gun unleashed thunder and smoke, and the explosive-tipped round smashed into the dragon’s open mouth and then out the top of its skull, spraying scales, blood, and brains in a wide arc. In its death throes, the dragon’s released it pent up breath, shooting a column of crimson fire straight up into the air. The heat from those flames, even twenty yards away, was all but intolerable, and Daniels felt his skin stinging with what would likely be first-degree burns on any exposed flesh. The fire faded, and the dragon collapsed into the middle of the road, leaking bright crimson blood onto the cobblestones. “You okay,” Daniels shouted to Richards. The Anzio’s discharge had all but deafened both of them. Richards turned to him, eyes wide with shock, but gave the thumbs up. Daniels nodded and drew his combat knife from the sheath on his hip. This was his first dragon; he’d need a trophy.</blockquote>

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