Voltage

Chapter 39

Dyne ups my work load after Trip falls out of the competition, his motivation and insistence unable to be ignored. Free time ceases to exist for me. If I'm not training, waking at dummies made of twisted iron, aiming my lighting at targets or completing insane work outs I'm in front of a TV watching murder upon murder, bloody fights all back to back.

With the amount of dragons that die each year through these contests you'd think less dragons would be jumping to join in the Ring battles, and yet I see more dragons die than I do walking down the street on a normal day.

I become more desensitized as a person that I don't even blink when a dragon's stomachs ripped open and his guts pour from his stomach in a waterfall of red organs.

Trip, for his part is back on his feet two days later, a brooding shadow in any and every room, and when he talks it's in short clipped words. He never interferes with my training, nor does he help, not until Dyne's motioning him over one day after I'm clobbered by rubbed wrapped swing metal appendage.

I growl, barely dodging another limb sailing for me until I crawl out of the tangle of training equipment and onto the grey safety mats. The steel structures, even encased with rubber padding, are imposing and harsh. No sane person would dare jump into the middle of them to be bashed and bruised, and yet I ache my aching jaw, and bruised and batter back could I reach. Even as the limbs whine and slow down, they look daunting.

Trip glowers silently between Dyne and I, arms crossed over his chest. Long scars wrap around his soft flesh and for one single moment my dragon insists I add more of my own to his skin.

"Shift," Dyne motions Trip closer again. "She won't learn unless she has to fight and watch at the same time."

Trip hesitates, eyes appraising me quickly, a long sleek dragon trembling in exhaustion and annoyance, yet somehow exhilarated and excited at the same time. Despite it all though, I can't help the dark thoughts of doubt. Why do I have to train? I'm a killing machine. I was made for this. It's in my blood. I'm the embodiment of lightning, and yet you want me to fight stupid metal bars swinging around? I keep quiet though, because it's not worth it kicking up another fuss after the first one I pulled before getting in there.

It's a lot harder than it looks, and already I've got the bruises to show it.

Even aching and tied, my dragon longs for the fight, for the attack, and for the sweet victory.

"She can't even stay in there long," he jerks his head to the now still moving obstacle course in all it's terrifying metal glory. "And you want us to fight in there? Is that what you're asking?"

"No. I'm telling you. Now shift," Dyne commands, fingers tapping over the control panels glass screen. "If she's to not be broken like a toe in future matches she needs to be aware of everything and anything."

Trip bares his teeth. "I'm already out of the comp. I don't need to be used like some crappy test dummy!"

Dyne glances around the room sharply, but they're still no one here, not at the top of the tower in the restricted training room. Not when it's my training session. When he turns back around his voice is lowered when he speaks. "Trip, I'm not surprised you are out. No because your bad, but because the fights aren't fair. It's not about pairing people by ability. It's a company, an organisation. All they care about if money, and people are paying to see dragons torn apart by their own kind. It not fair, okay. It's random, and you just got the shitty draw," Dyne hisses, "but it's over. And soon enough, Kaz is going to also get something unfair, so either you can whine, or you can help her. Your choice."