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Iron Dragons
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Literature Text
Gunnington Park
It was also empty. That was a given, as it was 0640, or 6:40 am to the civilians in the area. Cruisers and Dragsters meandered about, with a few athletic Rallyists getting their early-morning routine done.
Two of the occupants, however, were decidedly not civilian, and their clocks were read in a distinctly military manner. Only, neither were in active service - one was on leave and the other was a relic of a forgotten age. They were approaching an isolated bench for two.
On one end, Mark Abrams filled out his part of the bench quite well. Even though he was just a tad close to the bench's other occupant. Not a comforting thought - neither liked being where they were at the moment, though to his mind it was for the fact that he didn't know what was the matter with his impromptu companion.
Mark chanced a glance, to find the other facing away and looking over a small pond in the distance. His medals gleamed brighter as the moments passed and the sun rose up, brightening the scene. Mark resumed patiently waiting for his elder to speak.
"Your mother's been worried sick." came the terse message. Jonathan Sherman was also a former soldier; the Armoured Corps was home and haven to their family. Mark himself was a third-generation soldier within it, adding to an already vaunted familial reputation.
"You promised you would call at least once a week." next came the accusation.
"I'm sorry, but in case you haven't noticed there's a war going on, and-"
"Yeah, you stomped them then took their things, turned tail and ran! In my day, we won the hearts and minds of the people! We saved millions from death camps! We forged peace through superior damn firepower!"
If anyone were to look, they would see their vaunted hero with his cool solidly lost. And an image would be ruined. They all held Jonathan Sherman on a golden platform, as being the star who had saved the war for them all.
"I am doing the same thing." Mark Abrams said patiently.
"No you ain't. We WON those battles, son."
The last word was venomous, caustic even.
"You're a god damned sissy... Mark."
He had nothing to say to the bitter veteran. He didn't wish to dirty himself with that sort of thing. If anything, the Military had drilled honour into him. Honour thy elders, they had said.
Difficult to do so when your elders reviled your very existence.
"Yeah, I'll tell your mother I saw you." the veteran got out of the park and moved away as fast as his walking stick and busted knees could take him.
Mark couldn't find it within himself to contest his father, and let him trundle off.
"Yeah, I'll tell your mother I saw you." the veteran got out of the park and moved away as fast as his walking stick and busted knees could take him.
Mark couldn't find it within himself to contest his father, and let him trundle off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deals in Shadows
Fatse-Catze's view was heralded by most in the city as gorgeous. The river down below reflected the sun as it set, offering a looping, weaving bisection of the city as the river snaked through. Multiple bridges dotted the banks, but at this time of the day they were all raised so the river's reflection of the light was unimpeded.
The cost to 'request' the City Council to look the other way was well over one million dollars. To pay off the emergency services that were operating around the clock was four hundred thousand dollars. To compensate all of the operators who kept the bridge running was two thousand dollars, per bridge.
And Marcia Challenger was two million dollars poorer. Approximately a thousandth of a percent of the sums in her bank account, let alone all of her assets across the City.
So she sipped her sweet tea in peace.
Across her, the magnate of Oil and Refinement in the entire state lounged comfortably in black paint to complement her own arctic color scheme. Marcia was well familiar with this person; they had been doing business for a long while, and had been good friends for longer.
Sofia Leopard was perhaps her exact opposite. The Challenger lounged comfortably in an evening dress, and the Leopard kept herself prim and proper in a sharp business suit. She had earned her fortune and multinational empire by arranging investments like flowers and tossing money to this person and that group and every which person who looked worth it and reaping rewards, perks and bonuses. Sofia's enterprise was built on a hairpin and managed with a razor-fine edge, not a cent wasted.
Marcia took her time blinking. It was a warm evening, she just had a sumptuous meal and she was with fine company. It wasn't completely unreasonable for her to be sleepy right now.
"Marcia?" came the clipped, slightly accented voice of Sofia.
"Yes?"
"What do you think we should do with ze Rossbridge stocks?" Ever the anxious one, Sofia was.
"Sell two hundred shares. Buy fourteen-hundred in January." Marcia murmured, reaching and failing to grasp what she wanted.
"... Are you sure?" Ever the skeptic, too. Marcia slowly turned to her friend, inching herself slightly lower so that she could grab the grapes to the side of the recliner just out of her reach. The two had a small staredown - Marcia's cool assuredness shrugging off Sofia's inquisitive vigor.
"If it doesn't pay off, sell off six controlling shares of D.Pool Incorporated."
Sofia was speechless. The move was audacious beyond measure; D.Pool Incorporated was the most wildly successful merchandising company in the entire West. Marcia stretched lightly in the evening sunlight, pleased.
"Have I led you astray so far?" Ah, the quintessential armour-piercing question.
"... No." Sofia admitted. And from this point, Marcia knew the conversation would be hers. Anything that led to their arrangement would always go in Marcia's favor - a reason why she was so relaxed in business conversations. She could lose some, true, but in the end her base of support and resources would triumph over Sofia's comparatively minuscule reserves, no matter how efficiently managed they were.
That was how they operated. Marcia was the one to handle the grand strategies and bigger pictures. Sofia was the one to pick at and sort out details. Of course, when they had first found each other in Markham University some twenty years ago they had thought the other completely insufferable. But a few decades and countless trials later they could say without a doubt that having another to complete what you do not wish to complete is irreplaceable.
"So trust me. Do that."
Sofia made notes on a small black touch-screen phone while Marcia lounged. Then, a thought occurred to her.
"Hm... what about the Cup?"
"Zat's been taken care of. We have twenty-two competitors, only two from home though."
"Who?"
Sofia checked the facts once more. Marcia was thinking hard about the situation - the Cup was a massive event that drew competitors from all around the country to participate in one series of death-defying stunts, mock battles and the most detailed wargames seen all around the world.
The Roderrick Cup, named after Sir Ronald Samuel Maxwell Roderick, founder of Armourall City. The key to so much fame and prestige that one would be a blind hermit not to have heard of it.
Marcia enjoyed the thought of having the small engraved trophy on her desk.
"Spencer Vityaz, high-school graduate of the Saint Bensley High School. The other is Colonel John Abrams of ze 41st Armoured Division."
"Mm, Abrams?" Marcia quirked an eyebrow. "A military man..."
The silence settled in and stretched out.
"Sponsor them both. Pit them against one another in the initial match."
Sofia hesitantly made the appropriate messages and sent them to the relevant numbers. Officials to bribe, Judges to schmooze. One would know how it goes.
Then the clock struck eight-thirty and the Leopard stood to leave. Marcia waved off her friend after the usual goodbyes.
In the distance, the bridges started to be lowered and the city was once more rejoined.
I did a small bit of development on this idea.
Characters are mine, based on the main battle tanks of today. Names are taken from there too.
This is an edit, and to clarify the characters are now human instead of sentient tanks.
© 2014 - 2024 Krasnogvardiech
Comments3
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I actually enjoyed that the two characters are based off of tanks. For a moment I thought that there was supposed to be a roman numeral in Mark's name. 