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Following the morning’s events, the four members of The Dragonville Massive were now seated around Dylan’s mum’s kitchen table, ready to begin crisis talks.
“Ok,” began Dylan. “Well, thank you all for attending today at such short notice.” He turned towards the open door. “AND, A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY MUM FOR KINDLY ALLOWING US TO BE IN THE MAIN HOUSE WHILST THE SHED IS TEMPORARILY OUT OF ACTION. EVERYONE AT THE DVM IS ETERNALLY GRATEFUL AND WE PROMISE TO CLEAN UP COMPLETELY AFTER OURSELVES AND DEFINITELY, DEFINITELY NOT GO UPSTAIRS.” He tilted his ear listening for a reply but nothing came. He carried on, “This meeting will obviously replace the regular status meeting we were supposed to have tomorrow at the same time.”
Murmurs of ‘thank god for that’ and ‘flipping waste of time’ rumbled from the three other attendees.
Visibly grinding his teeth, Dylan turned towards the agenda that he had hastily handwritten and not bothered to show to anyone else. “Right!” he exclaimed. “Item one. Introductions and welcomes.” He pointed a claw towards the two dragons who sat on the opposite side of the table. “Welcome to The DVM um... New Gang Member One and um... New Gang Member Two.” He was terrible with names plus with staff turnover as it was, bothering to learn them seemed an unnecessary chore. “I’m Dylan, as you probably know. I’m the CEO, the boss, so to speak – although we do like to let our members have a say in what we do and how we do it; democracy and all... I’m just kidding! YOU DO AS I SAY OR I CUT YOU UP BADLY!” He gave what was intended to be a jovial smile. “And I gather you already know Tyler – from the gym, isn’t it?”
Tyler leaned forward, placing both his elbows onto the table and his fists beneath his chin. “I’ll show them the ropes,” he growled, biting his bottom lip. “Whip them into shape. Turn them into big, mature drag... They are technically mature before you ask. Birthdays last week. I’ve seen the paperwork.”
The two new dragons shifted awkwardly in their seats.
“Um... good,” said Dylan. “It’s an important period for us right now. Expansion and the like. We’ve doubled our membership since, well, when did you two join? Thursday?”
“FRIDAY!” blurted Tyler. “Definitely Friday!”
“Friday,” corrected Dylan. “So, you know, exciting times.” He inhaled deeply. “Right. Moving on.” He looked at his paper. “Item two. The fat weirdo.” He looked around the table. “Well, what can I say? He’s gone too far this time!”
A figure appeared around the door. “Oh, hello!” said an ageing male dragon, clearly taken aback to find the kitchen full. “It is 12.20, isn’t it? Is er... Dirty Diane—”
Tyler let out a snort.
“—around?” With a loud clunk, the dragon set down a holdall inside the door frame. “It is Monday, isn’t it?”
Dylan flicked his nose upwards. “Top of the stairs, first on the right. Take a seat in the waiting area.”
“Oh no!” gasped Tyler. Desperately trying not to crease into laughter, he pointed at the ceiling. “You said she’d stopped all that! No wonder she wasn’t happy at us arriving without an appoint... YOWWW!”
Dylan brought back his leg to his own side of the table, then nonchalantly flicked out the largest claw on his right hand. “Anything else you’d like to say about my mother and her choice of career, Tyler?”
Fighting back his smirk whilst he still had lips to do it with, Tyler shook his head rapidly.
Lowering his glare, Dylan picked up the paper. “Ahem! Back to item two – Mental George.” He squinted trying to decipher his own scribble. “So, a busy day for him today. Firstly, this morning he terrorised a bunch of youngsters who were trying to earn their Allotment-Theft badges.”
Tyler tutted. “What an arse.”
Dylan nodded. “According to my niece or nephew – sorry, what time is it? – he flung open his curtains and performed a,” he lifted his claws into a quotations gesture, “‘lewd act’, in front of them.”
The two new members both squirmed simultaneously. They had joined the town’s most-baddest gang in the hope of getting in on some brutal turf wars, perhaps some execution-style killing, a touch of light torture during quieter stints. They hadn’t expected to be dealing with issues that really turned their stomachs.
“Then he proceeded to try to push him or her off his roof to keep him or her quiet,” continued Dylan very matter-of-factly. “Lots of bellowing of violent threats, various aggressive gestures etcetera etcetera. All standard stuff – but also, all on his own property so technically the law can’t touch him.”
“Disgraceful!” snapped Tyler. “What’s the point of having laws—”
BUMP!
BUMP!
BUMP!
Instinctively, Tyler and the two new dragons looked upwards.
“Ignore that!” Rising to his feet, Dylan flicked on the radio that sat behind on the worktop and immediately cranked it up to the maximum.
He sat back down again.
“Then, a couple of hours later,” he continued, “he was on the high street, bold as brass. Saw him myself. I offered to fight him but he was having none of—”
BUMP!
BUMP!
BUMP!
“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Everyone focused on the light fitting, with the exception of Dylan who stared down into his glass of water.
Softly, Tyler placed a claw on his friend’s arm. “Bet that would have been fun to watch.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped open.
“You fighting George, I mean!” stammered Tyler. “I sw... swear I meant you—”
SMASH!
“Owwww! Owwww! Owwww!”
Casually, Dylan began to dab at the spatter and glass shards that now covered his agenda. He flicked a sheet of kitchen towel in Tyler’s direction and indicated him to use it. “Anything else you’d like to add?” he snarled. “About the weirdo, I mean. Apparently, you all saw him today whilst you were... waiting for a bus?”
“Um... oh, ye... yeah.” Tyler removed the wipe from his face to see how much blood was on it. “I was going to tell you about that. He er... threw us through a glass panel.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Mmm. If that’s your story, you’d better get hold of all the surveillance footage.” Wearily, he looked to each of the new members in turn. “Hopefully you’ll both familiarise yourselves with the ‘embarrassing forbidden acts’ section of The DVM handbook.” He glared sideways towards Tyler.
Up above, a toilet flushed. A moment later and footsteps began to sound on the stairs.
Dylan returned to his soggy agenda. “Oh, and last but not least he’s been spying on them lot at the recreation ground, again. Yes, they might be truanting so technically he’s all-good legal-wise – who are our legislators? – but to any right-thinking dragon—”
“Judicial reform!” Tyler folded his arms. “He’s seriously sick. Also, we told the council to remove that bush!”
“You’re preaching to the convert... Oh, bye-bye, District Judge Jenkins!” Dylan waved towards the open door as a figure passed by it. “Nicely played! A new personal best, if I’m not mistaken? You certainly showed her! Well done!” He turned back to the table, avoiding all eye contact. “Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. Last we heard was that old Georgie carried on going, right off the end of the road, disappearing off into the grassy bit.”
“No sane dragon leaves the concrete,” said Tyler with a shudder. “Nothing good happens out there.”
“It does not!” Dylan slapped down his paper. “And that is why I have decided we should bring in,” he performed a drum roll on the table with his claw tips, “the Unofficial Dragonville Police Department!”
“The Oody-Poody?” One side of Tyler’s mouth began to rise. “You mean—”
“Yep!” Dylan grinned. “And we agreed not to call it that.”
“—you mean we have to run around wearing those stupid—”
“Vigilante justice!” snapped Dylan. He lifted his claws to attempt to muster some enthusiasm in the two new members whose expressions hadn’t changed. “The only type of justice? Common sense justice? The only type of justice worth having? Like in the olden days?” He scowled. “Those hats are cool. You’ve changed, Tyler. You’ve changed.” Still looking a little hurt, Dylan rose from his seat. “Georgie Porgie has gotten away with his final not-technically-an-offence offence,” he hissed. “We’re gonna track down that fat weirdo and we’re gonna make him pay and—”
“Oh, hello boys!” A head appeared around the door. “I’ve got a 12.25 with Dirty Diane?”
Tyler glanced back over his shoulder. “Top of the stairs, first on the ri... Auntie Samantha? AUNTIE SAMANTHA?!”
Dylan leapt to his feet. “Tyler?” he exclaimed. “Where are...?” He craned his neck out into the hallway just in time to catch a glimpse of his second-in-command’s tail disappearing out of the front door. “Tyler?” he shouted. “Tyler? Come... come back! This is the important bit – the actionable points! If I can concentrate under these conditions, then so can you! TYLER?! If... if you’re going home, bring back the box with the police outfits! And the sticks! Ok? TYLER?! TYYYLEEERRR?!”