Warning: False Claw Law

Grabby ignored the mop as he snatched the bag sitting atop the old metal desk. The lanyard containing a key card and the workers cap flew inside. He reached for the mop’s handle, but the bucket vibrated audibly.

Founts of water erupted from moist fabric strands. They swirled upwards from the knot to join in a burst of water aimed for Grabby’s eye.

Claws swiped at the air as he jumped back. His pupil glowed red to help open his portals.

Water shot into the liminal space. Another hole opened in front of the wall behind Zenobia. More water burst out as if from a firehouse. It slammed the bucket so hard that it shot past the doorway like a cannonball. The mop launched upward and was spared the worst of its own attack. Bucket zipped by Darius’s head. A jagged hole blasted through sheet metal. The warehouse shuddered with a rumbling groan.

The handle fell into Grabby’s hand. Aura subdued its power. He raised it like a spear as he charged out of the office.

Zenobia unleased a tendril of water that smacked his feet and made him trip. The dirty warehouse floor smeared his shirt tie with industrial grade dust as he slid. The mop fell from his hands and rolled away.

Not to be outdone, Grabby bounced to his feet, shook dirt out of his eye, and pounced to reclaim the mop.

Darius ran after him.

The mop summoned a weak water jet against the floor to evade the imp’s grasp.

Eyelid squinted as Grabby sliced open another portal with his claw and jumped in. The hole hadn’t zipped closed behind him when he popped out of another right behind the mop. The leather bag flicked open. He grabbed Zenobia and tried to force her in lengthwise. Claw dug against her handle as he pushed.

Arms of water grabbed the plastic clasps to resist, but Zenobia felt her power drain rapidly. A dampening aura contained her and resistance faded until Darius grabbed the tip of the handle.

He knocked the bag backwards with a kick. Once the majority of his hands gripped the mop, he wrested it back cleanly, “What do you think you’re doing with my cleaning supplies?” Another kick followed into a soft gut.

Grabby bounced backward until he skidded himself to a stop. The eye squinted as the imp huffed. He hurried to his feet and leapt for the bag.

“Imp!” Darius ran forward. Boot again punted Grabby into the front grill of his truck. He swung the mop in a circle before sliding it into a belt notch so it rested across his back. Knuckles cracked.

“What are you even doing here imp? Our business concluded. I didn’t take you for a thief.”

“That’s rich coming from you!” Grabby kicked his legs and rolled in circles like a one-winged fly before he caught the ground and stumbled forward, “We never had any business! You barged in where you didn’t belong claiming to be SC and then stole property that wasn’t meant for you! GAAAAAAAH! You went and robbed a bank with an uncured item that can be traced to me! Unforgiveable!”

Darius darted forward with a punch.

“Eeeeeek!” Wings opened. The left wing flexed out, but the right hesitated due to a glued wound near supporting cartilage. A single powerful flap still lifted the imp. Even injured wings took him to the rafters so his claws could perch.

Darius skid around in front of his truck. Dragons couldn’t fly, so he was at a disadvantage. Muzzle clamped down as six clenched fists shook upwards. “And just who exactly was this mop meant for? Your real employers? The ones who help you keep that building you shouldn’t legally be allowed to own? Who do you work for? The Church of Dragon, the Sealing Commission, the World Artifact Collectors? Are you playing all three? That would be a dangerous game imp.”

“I only work for myself!”

“Spoken like a true imp.”

“Give me back my mop!”

Coils of water rose from behind Darius’s back. A mild blue glow possessed the water as it spread in the form of coils surrounded by a thin membrane. It brightened to a harsh neon.

“No,” Darius spit, “The mop hates you. It doesn’t want any part of you. In fact, I’m the only thing keeping it from killing you.”

Grabby gasped, “Wait a minute! I p-p-put your other items in that bag of holding. If you hurt me, you’ll n-n-never get them back!”

“Yeah, about that. It’s my bag. I can remove anything I want. You can’t remove crap. But no worries. Unlike the mop on my back, I don’t want you dead,” A tendril of water lashed forward from behind Darius. It stretched toward the imp, “After all, you’re just another working stiff trying to survive your bosses. Am I right?”

Grabby glided away with the black leather bag in his claws, but the water was faster, “I’m an independent business imp! Leave me alone!”

An arm of water slapped the doctor’s satchel away. Another arm rose above him. Shadow enveloped him before a wide wave slapped across the back of his wings.

“Gahhh!” he screeched as his closed eye smacked the floor.

Water coiled like a lasso, then tied like rope. He wriggled as it coiled his arms so he couldn’t break free.

“Not sure what to do with you now that you made yourself a problem. But I guess I have a few ideas. Once things blow over, I’ll drop you somewhere safe and let you figure things out.”

Grabby screeched as the coils tightened further.

The mop glowed with a neon blue aura that bolted through the membrane. Zenobia’s glow competed with the bright lights of the warehouse.

Darius reached back with his top right arm. A firm grip tightened over the handle despite dried blood around his claws, “I know how you feel Zenobia. Keep it under control. I know you hate seeing people die as much I do. Even if they aren’t your people. You’re not evil. You’re just really confused.”

The aura faded as the watery coils relaxed slightly.

Grabby huffed while breathing a sigh of relief. He still couldn’t manage to break free of Zenobia’s bounds no matter how much he struggled. He tried to bite down with the small hidden mouth tucked in his lower eye-lid. An aura released from his core, but his ability to cure objects didn’t work efficiently this way. Finally, the imp slumped in defeat.

Darius retrieved the doctor’s bag, walked over to the captured imp, and flipped it open, “I’ll be holding on to that false claw of yours.”

“Ohhhhhhh, fidgelsticks...”