Cabader had arranged to meet him in a nightclub for sorcerers. It was down an alleyway in London. A dark, remote area where no mortals knew about, and yet it was still full of crime.
He liked Cabader. He was dark and quiet, but he was an excellent fighter and that made Dragona and him get along.
Dragona also felt sorry for him. Cabader didn't actually want to be alive. Most of his friends were already dead, as was his family. There was nothing for him but a few friends, and yet it was impossible for him to die. His life consisted of trying to stop people destroying the world, and nothing more.
Cabader wasn't a very popular person, either. He scared many people.
He parked his white Porsche 911 GT3 RS, which had a red stripe down the bottom of the door, and the type of car written in slightly italic letters, next to the pavement. He swung open the door and stepped out, wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, a dark blue jacket, a black t-shirt saying "Keep Calm & Kill Zombies" written on it in white, and some blue jeans. He shut the car door.
He strolled down the alleyway, immediately feeling disturbances in the air.
Dragona sent tendrils of air in all directions, acknowledging the resistance against hard objects. He built a picture up in his mind of the alleyway. The solid brick walls surrounding him. The yellow skip behind him, with three men crouched behind in the shadows.
Most interestingly, however, one of them had a silenced pistol. It was a type he was unfamiliar with.
More disturbances in the air. There were people stood on top of the buildings, ready to land next to him if the situation called for it.
In front of him, there was the flashing neon sign of the nightclub for sorcerers. If he wanted to, it would have been possible to run. But he didn't feel a need to. They weren't professionals. Thieves. Nothing more. There was no need to run.
The three men revealed themselves to his eyes. He pretended to act surprised, by making his facial expression one of confusion.
"Hello," Dragona said, "It's a nice day, isn't it? Do you need something?"
"Yeah," the man with the silenced pistol responded, "Your bloody money. Give it and walk away, or we'll kill you then steal it from your corpse. It's up to you."
"Hey look," said one of the other men, who carried a crowbar as a weapon, "You can see the wallet in his pocket."
"I won't be giving you my money any time soon," Dragona replied, "But, if you want to live, I suggest you put down the pistol."
"Who is going to kill us? You?" laughed the man with the pistol, "You're outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded. What chance do you think you have?"
"Come on," said the third man, armed with a baseball bat with nails stuck in it, "Just let's shoot him and steal his money. No one will notice. It's silenced, remember?"
"You have a point, friend," Pistol replied, "You have a point indeed." He cocked the hammer of his pistol, and aimed it directly at Dragona. He fired a single, silenced shot down the alleyway.
In a flash, Dragona had swiped one of his twin katanas out of the crossed scabbard on his back and the bullet bounced harmlessly off the indestructible metal, making a slight pinging sound that echoed around the alley.
He spun the blade in his hand, then also retrieved the other sword from his back. The men up on the roof jumped down.
Before they landed, however, Dragona had kicked one hard against the brick all to his right. He blocked a second gunshot with a barrier of air, then managed to knock the second man who had jumped off the roof unconscious with the hilt of his sword.
The baseball bat swung at him and his sword cut through it easily, also managing to give the man who held it a long cut down the middle of his chest.
Dragona spun and kicked someone, who had landed behind him, in the chest. As he did so, he saw a grate.
A grate in the ground.
He lifted one of his swords out of his hand using the air and swung it, positioning barriers of air around the handle so it he could move it without touching the handle of the blade.
With his free hand, he controlled the water flowing through the grate. He lifted a fairly large amount of it out, enough to fill the alleyway.
Dragona moved his sword so it blocked two more silenced gunshots, then he managed to take out the man with the crowbar by slicing his weapon in half, and also his head.
Water spilled out in a huge wall between him and the thieves. A churning mass of foaming water. That he could control.
He sent the water at the thieves. They tried to run, but they were much too slow. The water consumed them before the end of the alley, and using the air, before anyone else could see the water, he altered the air's temperature so it dissipated into tendrils of steam.
The water drowned the thieves in a matter of moments. He purposely made it go into their throats and fill their lungs so they would have been dead a lot quicker. He didn't like slow deaths.
He moved the remaining water back into the grate, then clicked his fingers.
Dragona created fires on them, and in them. They burned fiercly until the bodies were just a pile of grey ash, which he moved using the air into one of the nearby bins. He sheathed his swords.
Rather pleased with how it had worked out, Dragona stepped into the club. A thick drum beat immediately reached his ears and he winced instinctively. He disliked modern music. A lot.
He saw Cabader leaned against the bar, not drinking unlike the rest of the sorcerers, who seemed to be showing off the magic they could do. Several bolts of magic were fired across the room and fire was thrown up everywhere.
Cabader was wearing his black motorcycle helmet, and a black motorbike costume as always. No one came near him. They were scared of him.
"Hello Cabader," Dragona said as he walked past a sorcerer who had fists the size of his head, "How are you?"
Cabader turned to him and cocked his head, then said in his slightly synthesised voice, "I am fine. How are you?"
"I'm good. Some thieves were out there. They're currently ash and in a bin."
"I would have expected nothing more. Someone has been watching me for an hour."
"Who?" Dragona asked.
Cabader nodded his head across the dance floor. There was a man staring at him, who wore a bowler hat and had a thick beard.
"I don't like the look of him," Dragona pointed out, "His eyes look crazy. Or angry. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes."
"I agree," Cabader replied, "He is not looking very friendly."
"Do you think we should go and... ask what his problem is?"
"I shall go. I am more than capable of taking him on by myself, no matter what his power. I am a spirit in clothing, I cannot be affected by any magic."
Cabader got up off his stool and walked purposely over to the man who seemed to shy away from him behind a newspaper.
"Excuse me," Cabader said, "You have been staring at me for an hour. Do you have a problem with me?"
The man nodded, "Yes. No one can bloody kill you, you son of a b***h. You shouldn't be allowed in this damn club. Get out."
"Do you see me causing any problems?" Cabader asked, "I am not fighting anyone. I am not causing any disturbances, so why bring it up?"
"I just have a problem with someone I can't kill, alright?" The man clicked his fingers and a fireball blazed in the palm of his hand, "But I can definitely try."
Cabader made a sound that could have been a sigh. The man made his entire hand catch fire, then punched Cabader in the visor with a flaming fist.
Dragona's indestructible friend didn't even flinch. Dragona knew what the man was trying to do, and he guessed Cabader did too. Cabader was the victim of a lot of discrimination because he was indestructible. People felt threatened and scared and they tended to lash out. If Cabader fought back, the entire club could errupt in a fight.
Cabader's visor started glowing orange. The man stopped midway through a second punch, his hand slowly being extinguished. Cabader, meanwhile, was cocking his head as he exerted his power over fire. He wasn't fighting back, only protecting himself.
Dragona decided to intervene before it was too late. He strode over to the man with the beard, grabbed him by the throat and pushed him against the wall.
"You really think trying to fight someone immortal is a good idea?" Dragona asked, "You treat him like crap, and you think that's alright? That he doesn't count as a person, just because he can't be killed?"
The man shook his head, then said through gritted teeth, "I was just-"
"I know what you were bloody doing, ok? But the fact is, Cabader could drop you without even moving. He could take on every single person in this club at once without being injured in the slightest. And yet you decide it's a good idea to try and bully him? You think he chose to remain alive?"
"Thank you Dragona," Cabader said, "I was just about to set him on fire, but I think this way would be more helpful."
Dragona smiled, "It's no problem, really." He turned back to the man and his face grew serious again. "If I ever see you doing it again, I won't let you go out of this club without any injuries. Got that?"
The man nodded.
He let go of the man's throat.
Dragona noticed, despite the slight disturbance, no one paid them any attention. Fights were common, as he was thinking he could see two Elementals scrapping. Nothing serious, but the club had been known to deliver a few broken bones every now and then.
He and Cabader walked back to their place on the bar. Dragona bought a bottle of Dr Pepper. He unscrewed the lid, took a slight sip from it then asked, "So, why have you decided to meet me?"
"There has been... problems," Cabader said, "Big, serious, problems."
"Rumours. Mainly. A few unconfirmed sightings but..."
"Come on, what is it?" Dragona said impatiently.
Cabader made the same sighing sound, then spoke. "There has been sightings of Ytol Heas. Alive and well. There has also been graffiti popping up everywhere, written in the same way and saying the same thing."
Dragona took a sharp intake of breath, "That's not even... Oh s**t... What does the graffiti say?"
"Darkness rising," Cabader said, "It has been seen all over Britain. All over Europe. Everywhere. I think they will be connected."
"If Ytol is alive," he pointed out, "He won't be very happy with us. We did kind of... kill him. And Mevolent. At the same time."
Cabader nodded slightly, "We may be... how do you say it... screwed?"
"Yes Cabader. I believe we definitely are. Come on, we're leaving."
Dragona nodded in thanks to the person behind the bar, then he walked towards the exit of the club. For some reason, which he could not even hope to understand, there was a white rabbit hopping along the floor towards a group of sorcerers playing a drinking game. There was also a chicken following it, and a random dragon flying around the lights on the ceiling.
Sorcerers, he thought, Some people have the strangest powers...
As Dragona and Cabader exited the club, the loud music started getting softer until it was barely audible. He sighed with relief, thinking that his ears couldn't take any more punishment.
They walked towards the Porsche, past the bin full of ashes and the slightly wet ground.
"Bloody mother of..." Dragona growled as he looked at his car, of which he was very proud.
Written on it, using a form of spray paint, were the words "Darkness rising".
"I swear," Dragona said, "I swear I'll get the person who vandalised my car. As for now..."
He placed a hand on the headlight of the Porsche and new, clean paint flowed outwards from its engine. It got rid of the graffiti. He gave it a pleased nod then opened the door and climbed inside.
Cabader climbed into the passenger seat, and both of them shut their doors.
Dragona started up the engine, and the Porsche roared as he accelerated down the road.