Saving Shard

Chapter 8

Shard considered himself to be a patient man, one who prided himself with nerves like steel. But even the toughest, most enduring steel will bend if placed beneath a burdensome weight. And it was Elite Rocket Remington who was this encumbrance of weight. Heavy and unbearably irritating, like a bowling ball balancing upon a pinhead. Shard's tolerance for his domineering commands had bent to its breaking point, and when Shard snapped it would be a sound heard all around the Rocket base.

"FASTER!" The older Rocket kicked at Shard's heels, urging him to make haste down the final hallway leading to the brig. "C'mon, quit stalling!" Remington raised is leg, preparing to kick Shard in his shins, only he spun around and side-stepped the obvious assault.

"You know, Remington," Shard flashed a haughty grin, "you might've missed your calling as a Tauros' driver."

"Shut your face and keep moving."

Shard tisked, deciding it was his turn to grate nerves. "Remster, you know what your problem is? You lack a healthy sense of humor. Not that I blame you for it though, Glare does tend to drain ones appreciation of wit from their soul."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Shard rolled his eyes theatrically. "That Glare is a horrible monster and sucks the jest out of her male counterparts day-to-day life."

"WHAT?!"

"I can only explain this to you, Remster, not understand it for you."

Remington shoved Shard backward. He stumbled, but swiftly regained his footing (as well as his grin).

"You think you're smarter than me, don't ya? I'm gunna make your face look like it was trampled by Tauros." Remington rolled up his sleeves, showboating his large forearm muscles.

"Speaking of the Tauros, you're gunna regret all this Tauros-shit, Remster." Shard cracked a grin like a Tauros driver's whip. "I'm gunna dress you up as lettuce and feed you to Slowpokes. It'll be a very slow and painful death."

A large vein bulged from Remington's forehead as his mind struggled to comprehend the bizarre threat that Shard had tossed at him (courtesy of Misty, of course!). Shard had to smirk, verbally volleying with Remington reminded him of bantering with a childhood friend. Only, no one ever wanted him dead back then. Himself aside . . .

"Lettuce? Slowpokes? Wha—? Just keep walking and shut up." Was the best retort other Rocket could offer.

Maybe it was time to let Remington use those arm muscles? His brain certainly wasn't up to par. "Make. Me." Shard sneered, boldly presenting Remington with two of his favorite fingers.

Remington cussed, fists balling. "You asked for it, pretty boy! You'll bleed to death in that brig before morning."

Shard beckoned him forward with dramatic hand gestures, this was . . . fun.

"Hey! You two betta knock it off," N.K. grumbled like a thunder storm, pushing himself between the two younger Rockets. Until now N.K. had been trailing them silently. The bald man rarely had much to say, he preferred to billow around looking ominous. Most Rockets were terrified of him, as they very well should have been. After all, 'N.K.' did stand for 'Night Killer'.

However, Shard was one of the few Rockets who did not run away when spying N.K. down a corridor. N.K. was stronger than he was, but the man would have a hell of a time trying to catch (or outwit) Shard if he ever intended him harm. Besides, Shard felt sympathy for the guy . . . rumor had it he'd been bald since he was twenty.

Remington looked to his counterpart, dismay crippling his features.

"I'm serious, Remington," N.K. went on. "If da boss sees dat Shard is any more banged up when he comes outta da brig tomorrow then he is now, you'll be spending tomorrow night in dere. You know I'm right."