by TheTimeTrust, NotWedge, Chewy Walrus and The Eurostar
The Amazon jungle, Brazil:
The group of four -- Chance, Raptor, Drake Marshall, and Crasher -- were continuing through the old jungle road in the Jeep, when Drake spoke up. "Oh, yeah. I completely forgot -- Chance, before we rendezvoused with you guys, we went back to the tower to pick up your clothes."
"Oh?" Chance answered.
"Yeah. I really think you should put on some pants, man."
"Don't do it for my sake, Chance," said Crasher with a smile. "I really don't mind..."
Chance seemed to mumble a response to a voice only he could hear, and after a moment he stopped the Jeep and put on some clothes.
"I wasn't able to find my armor in there, though." Drake sounded a little depressed. "Luckily I had these other clothes handy and a spare pair of crutches. I'm just not sure how much good track pants and a Daffy Duck T-shirt are going to do me if we run into trouble."
There was some silence until Chance finally said what they were all thinking: "Where did you get those, anyway?"
"I can keep stuff in the dimension Drax and I stay in when we aren't in this one. It's better than those space bags they sell on the infomercials. I wonder where my armor ended up anyway..."
Outside the Tower of Cuccubao:
"Wad got new clothes! Wad got new clothes!" The smaller of the two strange figures sneaking away from the tower was full of excitement.
"Quiet!" one voice from the other figure said.
"You'll get us discovered!" another voice from the same figure added.
"Wad is sorry." Both figures were quiet after that as they headed for the jungle.
In the Stormloader above the Amazon jungle:
"That was a stupid gamble, X!" Johnny Omicron shouted, fixing his armor with a portable tool kit he carried on his person. "Do you realize what could've happened back there?"
"Relax!" X-Acute said, rolling his eyes and waving the map at his boss. "We made out all right, didn't we?"
"This time..." Omicron said, reconnecting two split wires. "However, what would've happened if something had gone wrong? What would you have done then?"
"Shouldn't we be planning our Peruvian initiative?" Arges grumbled, still holding his head. "We can always bicker amongst ourselves later..."
X-Acute and Omicron eyed each other warily.
"All right," X-Acute said, shrugging.
"Sounds good," Omicron said with a nod, tweaking a few final adjustments on his armor. "Xyber, how much longer until we get to this Lost City of Dragons?"
"Very little time, in this vehicle," the voice of Xyber broadcast across the hovercraft's intercom. "It runs on something called a probability engine... all I have to do is think and it happens. I've never seen technology like this before."
"Think you might be able to come up with a blueprint so I can make a patent?" Johnny said, laughing as he sealed up his armor.
"It's possible," the digital girl responded. "Also, Mr. O... if you have the time, I left some blueprints from the armor that the tart with the shortened Dee Snider hair-do was wearing on your PAD. I was wondering if you could give 'em a look-see."
"Sure," Omicron said, flipping open his Palm Pilot and opening the Xyber folder. Skimming over the blueprints, he raised an eyebrow. "Uh... Xyber... I'm not sure if these are real or not..."
"What do you mean, boss?" Xyber's voice sounded confused.
"I mean, the configuration's all wrong..." Johnny said, eying the specs. "The power core, for one, is something like the motor found on an old blender with just a little more amperage. Not nearly enough to power a suit like that... or mine, for that matter."
"So what now?" Xyber asked.
"Just be careful," Omicron said, gravely. "As important as this job is, I want to make sure we all make it out okay... got it?"
"Sure, whatever," X-Acute said, perusing the map.
"Yeah," Arges said, taking a swig of mead from the wineskin he'd toted with him.
"Roger that, Mr. O."
"Are the others en route?" Omicron asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Should be meeting us in Peru, Mr. O," came Xyber's reply. "But, for all I know... Pneuma may already be there..."
"All right," Omicron said, closing his eyes and folding his hands behind his head. "It won't be long now..."
Edulcore Cicciotto:
The road ends right on the bank of a very wide river, swollen with chocolate-brown, fast-flowing water.
"The Amazon?" I ask.
"One of its branches," says Chance. And then, looking at Crasher and Drake, adds, "Any clothes for Euro you didn't find?"
Crasher grins in her usual manner. "Why? He looks fantabulous this way!"
Drax's eyes rotate upward. Chance shakes his head.
"I am perfectly fine this way," I say. The only thing that covers me is the scabbard with Ladnikia.
"You are getting stranger day by day, Ed," whispers the Swede, getting out of the Jeep. He walks right to the border of the bank. "What we can do? From here we can go only by boat upstream. And we have no boat." He turns to face us.
"Marc didn't bring any spare Gaia unit," says Crasher. "It seems there is a problem with the powering gem. My dad has suspended any use of it for the moment."
"Drax is still too weak to transport you guys. Maybe in a few hours he'll be fine. Maybe we should just wait until he's ready," explains Drake.
"Sitting down while the Omicrons have the map AND the hovercraft? They'll be at the Lost City in hours, if not minutes," says Chance. He turns to me. "Ed, fly up and see if there's any trace of civilization. We need a plane, or the book is lost for us!"
I look at my... lower parts. "If I have not to impress any lady, I think I need your trousers, Kristofer," I say, smiling.
Crasher says, "Oh, no!" The chemist reluctantly takes his off and hands them to me.
I put them on and then run toward the rim of the bank, dive down, spreading my feathers, caressing the surface of the river, and then begin to slowly rise in ample circles, like a buzzard.
Soon, the forest is just a green carpet, fractured by shining veins. Far in the east is the Tower of Cuccubao, which is aflame, covered by clouds of smoke. In the opposite direction, far far away, there is a big clearing with what seems to be roofs: a village of settlers.
I begin my dive toward the place.
The village is desert. It's just a bunch of cabins with a short strip of grass to be used as a landing place for small planes. Cessna, that kind of aircraft. Not that I have any knowledge of airplanes. There is a rusted hangar at one side of the strip.
I continue to hover in big circles high above the village; then, when I am sure no one is in sight, I dive down. I land just behind the hangar, and suddenly a dog begins to bark. So, this village is not really desert, after all.
I retire my feathers inside the arms, put some dirt on my feet, to look like I walked, and with water from my water bottle, I try to make myself looking like I am sweating. Then, I walk around the corner toward the entrance of the hangar.
Inside, there is a small airplane, I would say fifty years old or more, but like I said, I am no expert. In the plane is a man. Alerted by the dog, he is ready to shoot me with a rifle.
"I am friend," I say, raising my arms.
"A gringo, eh? But your accent is funny."
"I am Italian, sir. I am with... an international archaeological expedition. My name is Professor Sardella. Guido Sardella."
"Redpatch. Armadillo Redpatch, at your service." The man is short, a meter and sixty, tanned, slim, muscular but with a large belly. Very white teeth and short, black curly hair complete the picture. Plus, obviously, the red patch that covers his left eye.
I look around. "I... am asking for your services, sir. I would rent your plane, assuming it's still functioning, of course."
The man grimaces. "OBVIOUSLY it functions." He looks at me, going from the top of my bald head down to my toenails. "You have money?"
I take a roll of dollars from one of the pockets of my trousers and throw them to the man, who quickly catches it. "Uh... Good. And where I should bring you?"
"First, to my colleagues on the other side of the river, and then to Peru: Cordillera Azul."
The man stares at me. "Peru? Are you mad?"
"No. And I have many of those rolls of paper for you."
The man jumps down from the airplane, takes my hand, and shakes it. "Deal!" he exclaims.
It's just a few minutes later, when we are flying with his plane over the Amazon, that the man turns to me, and asks, "How did you say you crossed the river?"
"Swimming?" is my only reply.
On the bank of the Amazon River:
"Does it do anything?"
Drake looked from the back of his right arm up to Crasher. "Huh?"
"The tattoo on the back of your arm. You keep staring at it."
"Oh, that. It isn't a tattoo. It's some sort of mystic symbol I got marked with when I got hooked up with the dragon."
There was a brief silence before Crasher spoke again. "So, does it?"
"What?"
"Does it do anything, the mystic whatever-it-is? You stare at it like it was a watch and you're waiting for a train."
"Oh. It changes color as Drax gains energy. See how it's black in the middle that's surrounded by red?" Drake held up his arm to make it easier to see.
"Yeah."
"It'll be completely black when Drax is back at full strength."
"Oh, that must come in handy."
"It does, and it gives me something to stare at absently when I'm not wearing a watch."
Chance looked back at them from the front seat. "Do you guys hear that?" The sound of a plane flying overhead could be heard.
Drake smiled. "Sounds like our feathered friend has come through for us."