Dante's Inferno

Seconds later, it was like the world had exploded as the first of the chemical-filled drums upstairs finally cooked-off. Children yelped and men cursed, fighting to keep their feet as the cargo lift jounced and bounced like a yo-yo on the end of its cables. I yanked my head up, felt my eyes widen as I saw a column of yellow-orange flame come roaring down at us like some vast, enraged elemental.

"GET DOWN!" I thundered, but my men were already throwing themselves flat. I snapped out my left wing, slapping it down on top of both troops and children and tucking my own head under just as the blast hit.

Heat washed over me, so intense that for a moment I thought the Elder had recovered and was bathing me in her flaming fury. I could feel my scales heating, the skin of my wing blistering, could hear my children yowling in fear as it seemed to go on and on, too long, the entire building's gone up and we're all going to roast alive. . . . Then finally, reluctantly receding, soon to be replaced by a howling column of rising, seemingly-icy air as the elevator shaft was transformed into a giant chimney, feeding oxygen into the firestorm above us.

For a heart-stopping moment the lift seemed to hesitate, then continued downwards, the grinding noise louder than ever. Above us, the lift cables were visibly smoking, and I began to wonder just how much more punishment the ancient machinery could take.

By the time we lurched to a groaning halt on the ground floor, burning chemicals were beginning to patter down on us from above like some hellish rain, and I'd had enough of this damnable box. Evidently some of the Council's mercs had managed to force the stairwell door; I could feel a handful of rounds bouncing off my side as both my fore and hind legs on my right side braced against the safety gate and SHOVED. The heavy gate ripped free from its fittings and went flying across the room, crushing several of the remaining guards not already running for their lives. The rest finally decided that discretion was the better part of valor when I swung my head clear of the lift, filled my lungs, arched my neck, and flamed.

For ten solid seconds I slowly panned that azure column of purest rage from left to right, at last stopping only because I had run out of breath. I panted, my head swimming slightly as my golden eyes searched for targets, but everything within a fifty-foot radius of the cargo elevator was too busy burning to give us any trouble.

Quickly we piled out of the lift and I lumbered forward, smashing flaming wreckage aside as I headed for the one exit I could clearly see amidst the flame and smoke. My men fanned out to either side of me like a dragon's wings, covering my flanks as I went, my children trailing safely behind. Anything that even remotely looked like a threat I flamed, and my men pounded into splinters and rubble anything that might serve for cover.

Once again, the building rocked around us and powdered concrete sifted down upon our heads as more drums erupted on the floors above, and what little opposing fire there was left trickled off to nothing as guards scrambled to escape what was rapidly becoming a flaming tomb. Ahead, I could see several surviving mercs struggling to open the large double doors I was aiming for.

One saw me coming, screamed, and all dove out of my way. Moments later my head slammed into the metal doors and they leaped from their ancient hinges and crashed into the street in a cloud of powdered rust.

Although my shoulders were bigger than the doorframe, my giant size & muscular strength was no match for the steel re-enforced doorway. Part of the wall started to collapse as my troops and my children poured out behind me as I leaped down a short flight of steps and across the street, away from the doomed warehouse. Risking a glance over my shoulders, I saw enormous plumes of red-orange flames pouring out of the top floor windows and reaching what must have been at least twenty meters into the air. The fifth floor wasn't too far behind; flaming solvents were probably running down through that hole the Elder made, igniting things on that level. For a tiny moment I allowed myself to worry about the Elder and my children's guardian, hoped they would be able to get out in time--

The sound of breaking glass brought my head down to see a lone mercenary, his face twisted with rage, finish busting out a first-floor window with the butt of his weapon. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Grease, who was playing Tail-End-Charlie, spun and loosed a burst in the direction of the sound, but his rounds went wide as the merc opened up with his SMG. There was a grunt, and Fields staggered forward as if someone had slugged him in the back, almost dropping his load.

Eternal instants later there was an ear-splitting crack just above our heads, and the gunner toppled. A second crack, and another guard was punched back through the open doorway. I whipped my head back forward and searched the dark buildings that loomed before us, but not even a dragon's eyes could pick out where Wolfman and the Dragunov had set up shop, protecting us in those long, exposed seconds out in the street.

Another moment, and the dark, stinking, wonderful walls of that little alley were around us again, the metronomic crack of Wolfman's rifle fading in the distance as he continued to cover our escape. We reached the truck at last, and I chivvied my squawking children into the back, followed by myself. The troops piled in next. Fields and Deebs managed to heave their load aboard, but then Fields sank to one knee, panting raggedly. Grease and Luce finally had to help him aboard, both swarming up behind him to immediately start tearing at Field's coveralls.

Deebs was tossing his own gear inside, stripping out of the baklava and coveralls to reveal civilian clothing. He grabbed for the strap that would pull the door down and closed, then hesitated, giving the quietly cursing Fields a worried look. Luce glanced at the Texan, gave him a reassuring nod. "Doesn't look too bad," he answered the unspoken question "he'll hold together 'til we can get him to someone."

Deebs hesitated a second more, then finally nodded and began to pull down the door. The last thing I saw before it slammed shut was that alley, glowing red-orange with reflected light like the passageway to Hell.