Warning: It's Not The Way Home

The library lay in tatters. Torn pages soaked into damp carpet. Toppled shelves lay scattered in a heap. Rain poured through shattered windows. Zenobia knelt in the center. Hands covered her face. But for the first time in what felt like an era, her uniform was dry. She peeked from between her fingers.

The muscular man in the suit approached. He had golden hair with a gray streak, bright green eyes, and stubble lined his chin. A staff switched hands with each step.

“I thought this human form would suit your mind better. You seem to like it.”

She didn’t respond.

“You didn’t honestly think that attack would hurt me, now did you? Good thing I’m on your side.”

“If you’re on my side, then help me go home.”

He smiled while his eyes glistened, “I can’t help you with that request. My apologies.”

Then he turned and walked away.

But arm, elbow, wrists, palm, and fingers stretched as she reached out, “No, don’t go! Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me alone. I just want to go home.”

Shoulders shrugged, “You don’t even exist anymore. You just don’t know it yet. But perhaps there’s one way home.”

“What is it!? Please tell me! I’ll do anything.”

Strands wrapped her in place. All she could do was stretch out her fingers as far as she possibly could.

He glanced back, “You must do what humans do best.”

Hand curled to grasp for air, “What’s that!? What must I do?”

“Slay dragons,” the snap his fingers reverberated.

He stepped out of sight past the threshold of the library.

Zenobia stood alone amidst soaked pages torn from thousands of books. Her left eye faded until it went out. The right eye glowed a brilliant blue as the mop manifested in her grip. Her body morphed into brackish water.

The library disintegrated into a sea.

-----

Spikes burst through the collapsing warehouse. An ambulance dented in their path. Bangs echoed through the streets as tires popped. Idling engines exploded into flames.

A uniformed dragon clutched his chest and found a sudden wet emptiness.

A junior detective ducked behind a utility pole. The bottom of the pole burst into pieces. His torso burst with it. The water splattering out the other side reddened with dragon chunks. The pole collapsed over him.

Avelina watched from the platform. Liquid projectiles flew outwards from the blob. A weight bearing pillar snapped. The construction site shook, but the building held. Avelina grasped the safety rail to keep from sliding over.

She peered at the police barricade riddled with mutilated corpses and burning vehicles. The warehouse collapsed with plumes of dust and vapor at every corner.

A strangely small figure stood visible in the remaining spotlight. It was murky, flowing, and not in the shape of anything resembling a dragon. To Avelina it looked fragile, almost pitiful, as it clutched what looked like a mop of all things. Avelina reached for the binoculars to confirm. It was indeed a mop, but the fabric at the end looked harsh. She saw no signs of the bank robber.

The yellow dragon stood undaunted. An arc of the police barricade behind him remained intact. One patrol car idled with lights flashing, not a broken window or a mark on it. Shaken officers aimed rifles from behind it.

Avelina scolded the sniper at the corner, “Can’t you shoot it?”

“I don’t have orders miss.”

“Do you have eyes? How many officers have to die before you do something? Your boss is down there. You have a clean line of sight. Take the shot!”

The rifle dragon grunted, stared down the sight, and fired a clean round. It burst through Zenobia’s head. Water splashed at the form disintegrated above the neck. The bullet cracked the cement. The head reformed as if someone poured water into a container.

The sniper’s head exploded. It didn’t refill. The decapitated body fell into a gore pool. A water projectile continued into the sky where it would disintegrate later. Avelina screamed, then fell backwards. She scooted until her back braced against the cage of the lift door. Phone buzzed in her pocket, but she curled with her hands over her head instead of answering.

In the center of the warehouse floor, the yellow dragon faced Zenobia. He leaned on his staff while breathing a little heavily, “You do realize that attacking me will get you nowhere?”

Grabby pulled at his tail, “Are you okay? We need to get out of here.”

“I’m just a bit tired is all. No worries, this one has no chance of slaying me.”

The mop swung repeatedly. High pressure jets sliced across the barrier. The violet glow flickered. For minutes on end the barrage of liquid projectiles pelted it. Blades dissolved into droplets that ricocheted like bullets.

Police hiding in the battered barricade line took cover. Projectiles pelted their vehicles. A black suited dragon in the open fell to a stray attack. Liquid pellets smashed against steel structures. A discordant percussion rang throughout the island.

The yellow dragon watched as the attacks continued rapid fire, “Are you going to waste all your energy fruitlessly attacking me?”

There are so many more easy targets for the slaying.

She halted. The mop extended from her side. Her arm went horizontal at a full ninety-degree angle from her torso. Her head tilted down slightly as the flow of her hair circulated more violently into her back. The blue glow of her right eye intensified.

The mop vibrated, threads tensed into prongs. A glowing ball formed in front of it. It expanded upon release. The orb disintegrated three patrol cars and a black armored van along with several officers.

The factory behind them exploded. Shards of steel and iron shot from the blast. Drilling machines weighing thousands of pounds flung into the ocean like cannon balls.

The blast exhausted into a gentle rain before it reached the refinery looming on the other island. Where a factory once stood, a hollowed-out shell with only two ragged walls remained. It was dark inside.

Zenobia turned away from the yellow dragon toward the path she’d opened toward the ocean.

A call came from the barricades, “Open fire!”

Bullets rained in response. They crossed through her corporeal form. As she approached a burning control car, she swung. Beads of water flew in an arc. Officers and black suits alike who dared open fire fell. Dropped guns clattered against wet cement.

Zenobia walked through the hollowed-out corpse of a factory. Ocean gently lapping the cement breakers sung to her.

The refinery glowed. It towered over her with a glowing warmth as it belched dragon fire. She faced it. 

One more step submerged her foot into the calmness of the tides.