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"Now Ma'am, remember to call the locksmith today. If they come back after this, you're really going to need to contact Immigration services."
...
"Yes, that's right. Portals to the hell open up every now and again, but Goblins still legally need to get a visa before they're allowed rent from you."
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"Yes Ma'am, I wrote the number down for you."
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"No, thank you Ma'am, and have a wonderful day. If you know anyone who needs Mystical, Magical, or Miscellaneous services- feel free to let them know about us. Our office is always open."
The tank's lid shut with a loud clang overhead as I settled back down into the cabin seat, treads already carrying the vehicle forward without a moments notice. That had all been much easier than I'd expected. Magic related evictions were something of a specialty for me. A fake badge and a small bit of wood that looked like a wizard's wand was generally all it took.
"Just like that we've got ourselves another satisfied customer Green, you can consider expenses covered today." I loudly proclaimed my enthusiasm as I took a celebratory swig from the now lukewarm coffee mug. Almost empty as it was, my theory was the last bits of the liquid always had a greater concentration of caffeine. "How are we looking on time... Radio say anything about traffic on Western?
The tank seemed to huff, throttling forward along a side street much to the distress of several car-alarms. I actually was very curious how many traffic violations we were currently committing, but I was also relatively optimistic the police might think twice before pulling us over. With all the traffic today, I imagined they probably had bigger fish to fry.
Shifting my attention, I checked my phone confirming the time. "Hey Green we're actually ahead of schedule here, lets stop at the corner store for a second. Tabby wanted some tuna fish, I should pick it up before I forget."
If you need to imagine the response I got, it was fitting to a rumble that could grumble. The tank lurched onward, casually running over a curb on the next right turn. Grouchy today; for reasons mostly unclear to me, the cat and the car didn't get along.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah- look he can't piss on your pillow, but he can sure as shit ruin mine, alright?"
Once, I'd asked the tabby once about that while trying to get some answers out of the creature when it was unusually talkative due to being stoned out of its mind by a large doze of nip. It had mumbled something about magical dissonance and undignified mortal servitude before latching onto my belly-scratching hand and clawing the ever-living crap out of me.
To be fair, it's completely possible that the cat just hates everything, but I knew by unfortunate experience that the toaster hated my car car too, as did the carpet when it felt like moving. I guess most magical items seem to try avoid one another, thus my natural aversion to disrupting the cold-war era truce which lurked within my closet. I often likened this phenomena to alike charges when explaining it to those interested and unfamiliar, because it was sort of like magnets.
But also because I have very little understanding for how any of these things work. I'm a simple man who happens to be good at poker and monopoly, not a genius.
As we pulled into the parking-lot, my efforts to unstick the new version of a car-door were met with failure. "Come on Green. Unlock already, we're still on a time table here but I'll bet I can be in and out of there in like two minutes."
The radio suddenly cut out, station switching to put an abrupt end to the classic rock.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
"Emergency action notification: The Department of Defense has issues a national Alert. Please stay tuned for further information. Al residents are advised to leave their homes and head to the nearest available shelters. This is not a drill."
Hand already on the tank's lid, I stopped as Green turned the volume louder.
"This is not a drill. Current Designation of threat is Dragon level. Repeat: This is not a drill."
"Ah... huh." I stopped to listen. "Did that just say Dragon?"
The radio volume increased dramatically, emphasizing the point. "This is not a drill. I repeat: This is not a drill."
"So I guess this means you're not going to let me out?"
Another grumbling rumble. I took that as a hard "No."
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Two Thursdays ago, it seemed the theme everywhere I went was dragons.
Like, smoke snorting, wing-flapping, dinosaur looking dragons fucking everywhere; both literally and figuratively. On the telephone poles, in the park, sitting on my roof at 5AM breathing fire and cawing like some over-sized scale-covered roosters.
See, they migrate north this time of year. It's their mating season. Gosh-dang, even elementary school-kids know this stuff; it has nothing at all to do with Caped-baldies. I swear.
Anyways, where was I? Right: Dragons.
See they're usually tiny little bastards. Generally no bigger than your ordinary house cat, the largest ones tend to lean towards Golden retriever size if they're lucky. These winged reptilians are a skittish bunch, mostly leaving people alone besides clawing up parked cars and taking down power-lines while trying to eat squirrels. Back in the day though, before the Government really collected itself and started dealing with them: They used to be massive.
See, dragons live a really, really, really long time. Like Ancient elf druid on a distant mountain top long time: And they never stop growing. Those guys, the ones who managed to get enough food and live long enough... Well to make a long story short, Dragons used to roast cities pretty frequently back in the dark-ages: Thus the warning level.
How's that for a history lesson?
Regardless of what they used to be though, all the old-age giant dragons are long dead. Surface to air missiles, Apache helicopters and 50-caliber machine guns can make short work out of just about anything. So when I hear an emergency Broadcast that says "Dragon level" I really just interpret it to mean some sort of natural disaster. Like a really bad hurricane, or a prepubescent kid who somehow got their hands on a Genie's magic boombox and made some really stupid wishes.
Man, you would not believe some of the stories that came out of the nineties- this one Genie, who I swear to god was Sha- Right. Sorry, story telling, that's right.
I didn't think it was an actual dragon. I'm sure there were a few flying around, doing typical dragon-things like getting pulled into jet turbines, and shitting on cars; but Green not wanting to let me out to grab the can a can of tuna-fish was justified. There could be an earthquake, or maybe the river was flooding, or maybe some stupid kid wished for it to rain candy and was giving half the city concussions: It was all up in the air. From the tiny armored window-slot provided by the tank, I wasn't exactly able to get a very clear picture on the subject. So, after five minutes of idling in the parking-lot of a Stewart's convenience store, I decided it was time to make some calls. See, I'm a people person.
I know people, places, happenstances, and in this case a few deities that sometimes picked up their phones..
"Hey, Rusem The Majestic! How's it hanging buddy?"
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"No, I know, I know, I should have called! But I'm calling now, you know? I just wanted to catch up a bit- you know us mortals, always losing track of time."
Green let out a snort of diesel, more than just amused.
"Right, right. So the Etheral realm has been good then? You still playing cards with the guys on Friday Nights at the tavern?"
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"What do you mean Kazaam got married? No shit?"
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"Well you could have polished my lamp, I'd never have thought it."
Green moved into a hard stop, smacking my head against the small window gap before I could catch myself.
"AGGH you bastard- What? No! No your Majestic-ness, I'm fine. Truly sorry, it must have been a bit of static between the planes of existence." I kicked the wall ruthlessly with my foot, wincing in pain now from both my head and my big toe. "Right, well Rusem good friend, I was just wondering if you know what the deal was with the calamity befalling us mere mortals down here."
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"No, I'm serious."
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"Really, Green and I are sitting in a Stewart's parking-lot waiting for the world to end. Radio is issuing some Government warning and talking some major threat, but they haven't told us what."
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"A dragon? No, I think that's the threat level."
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"Seriously?"
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"Oh... well damn."
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"Yeah, no I really appreciate it Rusem. I owe you one, I'll give you a call once this all blows over."
Click.
Beneath me, I felt the engine rev slightly, tank view shifting towards the main road but not yet willing to drive out onto it. It rumbled curiously.
"Well Green, let it be known that I'm man enough to admit I was wrong." I said, hand rubbing at my bruising-scalp. "I guess it really is a dragon."
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