Empire of Dragons: Dragons & Cicadas (Watty Awards 2012)

Glances

20XX, before the war

One of the inciting incidents were the Juice factories: places where non-immortal dragons are taken to have their liquids extracted and sold.

Shell Grey, a human detective, was assigned to the case that was plastered all over Italian news:

10 Non-Mort dragons were taken from a single apartment

Shell's tip mentioned black market Juice trade, and a factory hidden under Aosta Valley in Toscana. Illegal extraction of juice was considered black market.

Human-dragons and the like were captured and sometimes murdered for the sweet juice they produce. Shell went undercover and witnessed this cruelty first hand.

She posed as a worker to gain access into the Juice factories. She met the lady boss in her office at her request. Blonde, wore a tan suit, had an aura of sickening authority about her. Sitting in the desk was her second-in-command, Grik.

Judging by his looks, She'll would've thought he was in charge. He smoked a cigar, worse a suit that barely fits, and had a graying moustache on his face. His name was Grik. The first thing he asked was, "who are you?"

"I'm Shell Wanderban," She lied, "I am a transfer from Perch-Tech Industries. What's my first task at hand, sir?"

"You report to Wendell down in B-Sector for your tasks." Said Grik.

"Don't forget to attend orientation," said the lady boss.

She went to her desk and skimmed her hand along the ridged edges of a porcelain dragon statue.

"These creatures have been hiding things from us." She said. Her eyes were entranced by the magnificent statue.

"Like what?" asked Shell.

"Their bodies produce such amazing materials. The Juice, as they call it, is a real money maker. You can do a lot with it. Make your own drugs, make your own makeup, put it in food, keep 'em coming for more, keep 'em spending. I'll never be poor again."

Shell was starting to feel concerned, "ma'am?"

The boss lady took her eyes of the statue and said, "go, go. Go see Wendell. I have no use for you right now."

Shell complied and bowed before leaving. She always bowed, like how her Mother used to do.

Down in B-sector, there was the chaos of loud voices. Shell and a group of newer workers were being given a tour of the place by a short haired guy in a suit and glasses. He introduced himself as "The Teacher."

Human-dragons were forced in orderly lines. They were escorted to rooms, and without anesthesia they were cut open.

"Why not give them anesthesia?" Asked Shell.

"Good question. We used to give them that, but the prices were too high. We kept getting more and more strong dragons, which require more anesthesia, unlike the weak ones," The Teacher points at a giant poster on the wall; a chart of dragon species and different levels of anesthesia to use for them.

Meanwhile...

Ashuton Karrucci, our prince mostly responsible for initiating the war, was in this factory and had taken the form of a little boy. Guards had forced the dragon-humans into tubs where they were cleaned—Everywhere. Then they were laid onto beds, where tubes were hooked into them to extract Juice. Guards were placed at the door of every room. Doctors monitored health statuses. Scientists watched eagerly. Some of the captives were forced to drink gallons of water to flush out the juice.

Once the juice was extracted, the captives were sent back to their rooms, except Ashuton. He remained on the bed. His process wasn't done yet.

People in yellow hazmat suits entered the scene while the doctors departed. Their arrival was announced over intercom, "Cleaners are on the floor."