Chapter 27: 27. Slabs and Lions

“You want to see… the dragon?!” Zeff asked incredulously, still holding his neck, a purple bruise on his forehead.

“That’s what I said, innit?” replied Zaynmatter-of-factly.

Zayn had his mission, and it was clear as day what he was supposed to do.

However, ‘Forget the mission…’ was all he could think as he recalled vivid images of Rutigorn towering over him in Fate Square. ‘Little rabbit’ he had been called…

Zayn shivered for shame and clenched his jaw for anger, though Zeff didn’t seem to notice.

“W-why?” was all Zeff could manage to say.

*Buzz* Images of Zeff’s memories of Fate Square and the devastation Rutigorn had caused there played through Zayn’s head.

Zayn scratched his chin with the back of his dagger’s blade thoughtfully, shutting out the raging thoughts that were coming from Sylvan and Petticoat, as he thought about how best to answer the question without making a conversation out of it. He didn’t have much time, after all. In a matter of minutes, members of the Rings would be showing up and when that happened he would lose his chance to fight the dragon again.

Just behind Zeff, concealed by the mist, the strained and desperate “Hah!”s and “Uggha!”s of Sylvan’s and Petticoat’s battle could be heard. Most, if not all, of the screaming and grunting was being done by Petticoat.

“Why, you ask?” Zayn finally said. “The reason is simple, really. Listen to that fool Petticoat hooping and hollering like a little monkey over there. Pathetic…”

Zeff was visibly taken aback by the comment, but said nothing as Zayn continued.

“The b*stard is being driven by a singular emotion. He is here now, and fighting Sylvan despite his clear orders to detain you, all because of fear.” He paused shortly to let out a wry chuckled. “You’re all the same. From the 9 to 5 piss-ants to the politicians. Fear. Fear. Fear. You’re all terrified all the time.

“In this world, there are only two types of people. There are slabs of meat like Petticoat, who can do nothing but wait to be thrown on the grill and eaten or rot in the sun. And then—” He stretched his arms out dramatically and looked upward, his eyes closed, as though he were receiving applause, “—there are the lions.”

*Buzz* came a video of Zeff crossing the distance between himself and the helpless Zayn as quick as a flash, and striking him on the left side of his gut.

At once Zayn, without even opening his eyes, moved his torso back and to the left, skipping backward a few steps.

When Zayn opened his eyes, he found Zeff standing near where he had only just moments ago been standing, his fist still in flight, swinging through the space of empty air where Zayn’s gut had just been.

Zayn continued to speak as if nothing had happened, “Lions, y’see, aren’t like the rest of you. We aren’t driven by fear. We’re driven by purpose.”

“Forget that I asked and fight me like a man, b*stard.”

Zayn clicked his tongue comically, “Are you even listening, bruv? I’m not a mere man… and neither are you. See, you’re so eager to fight right now because you ‘know’ you’re stronger than me. You ‘know’ you’re faster. But I can promise you, you’ll never beat me, bruv. And the moment you ‘know’ that? You’ll be running with your tail between your legs, like the slab that you are.”

Zeff’s brow furrowed impatiently.

“‘Why fight a dragon that could kill you?’ is only something a slab would say. *I* say, ‘Why not fight a dragon that could kill you…’”

Zeff raised his hands yet again into fighting position and said, “Sounds like nonsense to me.” to which Zayn only gave a knowing head wag and a smirk.

Suddenly, after a short skip and a hop *Buzz-Buh-Buzz-Buzz!* Zeff threw out a flurry of punches at Zayn that would put Muhammad Ali to shame. Like a human gattling gun, he threw punch after punch, each controlled and well-aimed. But each hit nothing but air as Zayn dodged expertly as though he were dodging foam balls thrown by a malnourished toddler.

Zayn sighed, pointed his gun at Zeff and pulled the trigger twice more, firing two bullets which exploded soundlessly from his pistol and struck Zeff square in the chest.

“Awgh!” cried Zeff as he staggered backwards, holding his chest where the bullets had struck.

When Zeff was a few paces away he surveyed the wounds and noticed that his shirt was basically in tatters. After being shot several times, that was no surprise.

*Buzz* Images of a news story playing on a large TV began to play through Zayn’s mind. It was the story released by the media showing Zeff in RedBob’s, and reporting that he had killed a police officer. Then *Buzz* the image of a cop standing before Zeff as Zeff struck him the gut, which quickly changed to one of the same man being lowered into his waiting grave surrounded by crowds of weeping shadowy figures.

Zeff clenched his jaw and ripped his tattered shirt off, tossing it to the ground and revealing his impressive muscular body. “I don’t care if you’re a lion or a tiger or a bear! I’m gonna kick your *ss!”

Zayn almost laughed. “All your muscles and your determination and your threats mean nothing to me, boy. I don’t care if Sylvan or an army of Sylvan’s comes to your aid. You *will* give me what I want, or you’re gonna die here, plain and simple.”

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“I’m not gonna give you sh*t!” Zeff declared, his eyes beginning to glow.

Zayn faked a frustrated sigh, doing his best to conceal his excitement. “Y’know what’s interesting about Slabs is, half the time, they don’t know they’re slabs at all. Most times they think they’re special. They strut around, looking down at other slabs with a misplaced sense of superiority. Until a real lion comes around, that is…” He smirked. “We have this guy in one of our bases in Montana who thought he was special, too.”

Zeff’s eyes suddenly grew bigger with anticipation and knowing.

*Buzz* An image of a tall, athletic man appeared in Zayn’s mind. “W-what—”

“—Yeah!” Zayn continued, “Some bloke with a mole on his face and the greenest eyes you ever seen. He never knew he was a slab, either. But then they called me in to… ‘talk’ with him.” Zayn put his hand over his eyes and let out a recollecting snort. “It didn’t take long before he knew his place. All I had to do was cut off all of his toes and all eleven of his fingers…”

At hearing that Zeff, his eyes shining brighter and brighter every second, at once looked both terrified and perplexed.

“Huh? That’s not right…” Zayn began to count his fingers in mock confusion. After a second more, he snapped his fingers and gave a laugh. “Oh, yeah! That last one wasn’t his finger.”

Zeff wasn’t aware of it, but now he was clenching his fists so tightly that his own nails were digging into the flesh of his palms, drawing blood. He was shaking with anger as crimson smoke slowly began to rise from his body. “What was his name?” Zeff growled, his voice guttural and deep.

‘Fool.’ Zayn thought at seeing Zeff’s rage. However, despite his disdain for Zeff’s lack of mental toughness, he could barely contain his excitement.

“What WAS his name…?” Zayn thought aloud, using his dagger to scratch his chin again. He had absolutely no idea.

Of course, being a only member of the Middle Ring, he had never, and would never, be allowed into one of the main bases alone to torture someone. He’d have to at least be in the Inner Ring for that. Within the Rings of Rutigorn, information was treated as one of the most precious resources one could have. And it was a commodity that only those within the Inner Ring were allowed to enjoy. Zayn was only meant to blindly follow orders and to not ask questions. He had, indeed, been to several bases with his brother, but never deep inside. They would never let a member of the Middle Ring work with such autonomy within a base.

And that was just how he liked it. He was no leader and he didn’t care about moving up the ranks. He only wanted conflict. Battle. To feel his blood boil and his adrenaline flowing through his veins.

But Zeff didn’t know that.

Zeff couldn’t have know that Zayn only knew about as much about what went on in Montana as Zeff himself. However, after Zayn had asked how the dracoRex, one of the greatest and most deadly creations since the A-Bomb, had ended up in the hands of a twenty-something year old college drop out, Leo had surprised him with his answer.

Zayn had been right there when Zeff had gotten the ring from Sylvan. So he had only asked a question rhetorically. But Leo’s answer was, “A prisoner at one of our Northern bases got it to him through Sylvan it seems.”

That was all Zayn could get from his brother, but it was also all he needed to know.

Which base was easy enough to figure out. In North America there were only two. And the Montana base was where they would keep high profile prisoners. But Zayn had simply guessed that the prisoner was a man, and a man connected to Zeff, no doubt. After that, he had only needed to use his gift to fish for more information from Zeff.

“What was his name?!” Zayn asked himself again, feigning frustration. “If I could just remember what it started with…”

*Buzz* An image of the letter ‘F’ flashed through Zayn’s mind.

“Fo—. Fa—. Fi—”

*Buzz-Buh-Buzz!* came the image of a shark swimming through water, its dorsal fin cutting across the face of the deep, blue sea.

“Was it ‘Fin’ something?” Zayn asked himself, fishing for more information.

“Finnius.” Growled Zeff in his dragon-voice. “My Father’s name. Is Finnius.” Zeff lowered his body into a half-standing, half-crouching position, like a beast that was preparing to pounce on its prey.

“Ah, There it is! Finnius!” Zayn sighed, doing his best not to show surprise at finding out the this ‘Prisoner’ was Zeff’s father all along. “But you’re using the wrong tense, bruv.” he tittered. “You mean, his name ‘was’ Finnius.”

Zeff’s glowing yellow eyes grew wide with shock and incredulity, as Zayn dragged his dagger across his neck in a gesture that was all to clear.

“The first time I laid eyes on your fat *ss in Fate, I knew you were nothing but a worthless slab. But now, at least, I know where you got it from.”

“ZAYN!!!” Zeff roared as he threw his arms out and wailed into the sky a cry that was so mournful and deep that, if it were possible, Zayn might have felt bad for him. At once crimson smoke exploded from his body like a torrent through a broken damn. The sound of wind filled the air as the Dawn Treader mist was dispelled to make way for the crimson smoke of Dragon’s Rage.

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