arboreal_priestess | Somewhere in the Sewers, Baltimore, Laaate Monday Night (Reply)

Tooth fairy dust was meant to be administered to sleeping children to make sure they stay asleep while the Tooth Fairy fed. (The specific dietary needs of Tooth Fairies were irrelevant and a little bit disgusting and really not what Verity needed to be thinking about right now.) The standard dose, according to Grandpa Thomas’ Field Guide to Pixies, Sprites, and Other Household Pests, was a small pinch. A small pinch, as measured against the hand of something a little bit bigger than a Barbie doll. Dave had blown two full handfuls on them. At that kind of dosage, it was no wonder that when Verity finally stumbled back toward consciousness, she felt like she'd been shot full of curare, chloroform, and cockatrice venom.

Verity	Verity groaned, trying to lift a hand and wipe the residual grittiness from her eyes. Her arm wouldn't move. In fact, she couldn't actually feel her arm. That realization snapped her the rest of the way out of her fugue damn quick, and she opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a distant ceiling that looked like poured concrete shot through with massive brass pipes. The sewers. She was somewhere in the sewers, only this time, she was either paralyzed or tied down. This definitely wasn't an improvement over her earlier descents. She tried moving various parts of her body. Nothing responded, but at least she was able to feel her hands and feet when she really focused on it. All her bits were still attached; they just weren't speaking to her at the moment. She started hurriedly reviewing everything she knew about Tooth Fairy dust, trying to remember whether it had a known overdose point.
Smug A-Hole	"I see one of our guests is awake." The voice was far more jovial than any voice had a right to be when a woman was paralyzed and dragged into the sewers. "I'm sorry about the way you had to be brought here, dear. It was unnecessarily violent, and I apologize."
Verity	Verity turned her head towards that voice--or tried to, anyway. All she was able to manage was the faintest twitch of the muscles in her neck. Except even that was better than she'd been able to accomplish a few seconds before. She'd take it. At that bullshit apology, however, she made a strangled squeaking noise in the back of her throat. Not the most effective comeback she'd ever managed. This paralysis thing was getting old fast.
Not Really Sorry	"Oh, I'm sorry again--I didn't think. Here." Meaty hands grasped the sides of Verity's head, turning it to face the speaker: a big, ruddy-faced man with thinning hair and a Brooks Brothers suit that definitely didn't come off the rack. Her apologetic kidnapper clearly came from money. "Is that better?" Verity made the strangled squeaking noise again. He nodded like she'd just said something brilliant. "I thought it might be. I do apologize that we had to meet under these circumstances, Miss Price. I've been a big fan of your work. Oh, don't look so surprised--we've been keeping an eye on you since your arrival on the East Coast. It's admirable, the way your family has pursued an accord with the unnatural races that battle humanity for rulership of our fair planet. Idiotic, but still admirable."
Verity	If Verity could look surprised, she could also glare. So she did, wishing looks could actually kill as she stared at the asshole who was apparently responsible for her current situation. The asshole who was, unless her instincts had gone totally haywire, part of the snake cult that killed Piyusha. Had killed a lot more women than those two ghouls from the club ever had. That they were cryptid women and not human didn't make it at all better.
Condescending Jerk	Chuckling, he leaned over and ruffled Verity's hair. "Has anyone ever told you that you're adorable when you're angry? The sedative our operative administered should be wearing off soon, and then we can begin. I'm afraid you can't be anesthetized during the ritual. It might disrupt things, and we're dealing with too many variables as it is. As a scientist of sorts, I'm sure you understand why we can't risk such contamination."
Verity	Verity kept glaring at him, wishing she were a waheela so he'd end up pulling back a stump. He was already marked for death for being part of all this. Now he was just ensuring she'd enjoy it. There were only two good reasons for a villain to monologue: either they were stalling for time, or they were sure there was no possible escape. This asshole was apparently combining the two. He needed to stall until she was no longer a danger to his dragon's delicate constitution, and he clearly wasn't worried about her getting away any time soon. The tingling in Verity's hands and feet was getting stronger. If he'd just continue his monologue for a little while longer, there was a good chance she could surprise him. His easy dismissal of the city's cryptid community meant that, while he might work with them, he probably wasn't inclined to listen to them. That was too bad for him, because if there was one thing they could all have agreed on, it was that you never mess with a Price girl. Not unless they were already gut-shot and bleeding out...and frankly, not always then.
Blah Blah Blah	"There's nothing to be worried about. You're doing a great favor for the human race. Your service will be remembered long after the actions of your traitorous family have been stricken from the record of history." Verity squeaked and glared even harder, but he had a monologue to deliver. "I am sorry that it will hurt. I wish there were another way. Sadly, the situation is delicate..." He continued rambling for another few minutes, using vague and bloodless euphemisms for what he and the rest of the cult were planning to do with her. Verity kept squeaking. Eventually, her responses stopped amusing him, and he returned her head to its original position with a jovial, "Well, I'll just give you a little time to get your head in order," before walking briskly away.
Verity	If Verity hadn't already known that he couldn't be working alone, his speech would have confirmed it; no one who couldn't say the word 'sacrifice' would be capable of performing one. She listened closely to the way his footsteps echoed. She hadn't heard any other voices while he was talking to her, and nothing interrupted the clack-clack-clack of his expensive dress shoes against the concrete. Another sign that he had to be working with a full cult: no one who had a clue what they were doing would be stupid enough to go into the sewer wearing shoes like that. They'd give him no traction at all if the place flooded. As the tingling grew stronger, Verity practiced wiggling her fingers and toes, feeling very much like she'd just been cast in an unnecessary remake of Kill Phil. The return of physical connection brought a host of information in its wake. She was definitely strapped down, not tied. She was also naked, or close enough as to make no difference, because the leather straps were pressing down directly against her skin. They used multiple straps for her and they were all tight without cutting off circulation. She had to give the snake cult this much, if nothing else; whoever was in charge of securing the sacrifices definitely did a bang-up job.
Istas	To Verity's right came a deep groan--Istas. She was strapped to a metal gurney, naked, with arcane symbols drawn in Sharpie all up and down the length of her body. The same symbols Verity had found on Piyusha. Her hair was back in its sleek little girl pigtails, making the sight of her even more surreal. She groaned again before licking her lips and whispering, eyes still closed, "Did we lose because of improper tactical behavior?"
Verity	"No." Verity was trying to speak softly, but her voice came out as a whisper even fainter than Istas’. Lingering paralysis of the vocal cords, most likely. Honestly, she was thrilled to be able to talk. And move her head on her own. "We lost because that asshole you work for decided to sell us out."
Istas	"Oh, good." Istas’ shoulders tensed as she tried to move. The tension passed quickly, with no real visible effect. "I will enjoy removing his insides and displaying them to him as a part of his outsides." She paused, considering, before she added, "I believe I will wear his liver as a hat."
Verity	"Okay, well, good, that's a goal," Verity agreed slowly. "First we need to get loose. Then we can think about internal organ haberdashery. Can you change shapes?"
Istas	"I do not know." Istas tensed again, the muscles in her neck visibly bulging as they twisted into a new formation. Then the skin smoothed out again as she sagged, chest moving in rapid, if shallow, heaves. "...no. I cannot."
Verity	"Okay. Well, thanks for trying." Verity could feel her shoulders again. She pulled them upward, feeling the drag as the leather straps caught her wrists. She was still feeling weak and disconnected from my body, but she could move it, and that was enough. Growing up in her family meant ambushes on your birthday, crossbows for Christmas, and games of dodge ball where the balls were occasionally rigged to explode. It also meant learning how to work your way out of a wide variety of death traps. Failure to get loose on your own could lead to missing dinner, or worse, being forced to admit that you missed dinner because your baby sister had tied you to the couch. Again. On top of that, ballroom dancing taught strength, stamina, and above all, flexibility. After several long minutes of working at the straps with what little movement she could manage, she gave her left leg a firm tug and pulled her calf free of the two lower leather straps. After a pause to take a deeper breath, she repeated the trick, this time pulling her right calf free. Most of her was still pinned, but now that she'd managed to get things started--
Evil Santa	"Well, aren't you the industrious one?" A hand slapped down on Verity's shoulder. He beamed at her like a demented Santa Claus, giving a small shake of his head as he said, "My dear, you really are astonishing. It's a pity someone with your training and potential has to...well, you can stop fighting now. It was a lovely try, but it simply wasn't lovely enough. Boys!"
Verity	The hissing that greeted his call told Verity what was coming even before the first servitor came into view. It was limping, and the look it was directing toward her seemed to have more than the usual dose of reptilian menace. "I think we've met," she said.
Father Smarmsmas	"Oh, you've met several of the boys," said evil Santa, pulling his hand away from Verity's shoulder. "It's good to have the family together like this, isn't it? Boys, take them to the Chamber of the Dragon."
The Boys	The servitors began pushing Verity and Istas down a hallways, making sure to restrap Verity's legs down first. The room at the end of the tunnel made the chamber they'd woken up in seem small. The walls were natural stone, carved out of the rock by time and erosion, rather than by human intervention. People in long brown robes stood in a loose cluster up ahead of them, clearly waiting for their arrival. And behind them, with his massive head resting on his crossed forelimbs, slept the last of the male dragons.
Verity	Verity's breath caught in her throat, all thoughts of captivity and impending sacrifice replaced by awe. His breath was slow and easy. Whatever the snake cult had been doing to try to wake him up, it clearly wasn’t working. That was almost a pity. She might not be able to sweet-talk her way around snake cultists, but she was pretty sure I know where you can get some girls would have been a bargaining chip worth having. One of the servitors pushing Istas suddenly snarled and jumped away from her gurney. Verity looked over, and smirked as she saw the blood running down the waheela's chin. "Get a little close, did you?" she called. He turned and hissed at her.
Nobody Really Likes Group Projects	"Now, now," said evil Santa. "There's no call for that sort of behavior. You're both about to assist us with a great undertaking."
Verity	"Um, not so much, really. Snake cults are pretty passé. Couldn't you have joined a swing dance club or something? Not to get overly personal or anything, but it would be a way to meet women that doesn't involve stripping them naked and drawing on them." Verity gave him her prettiest, most professional smile, the one that said I'm absolutely as dumb as you think I am! "I'm just saying, if you can't meet a woman without drugging her, the problem is definitely you."
Doesn't Appreciate Banter	Santa scowled. "I see that you’re not going to be reasonable. Well, I suppose we can take care of that by letting you be the first one to leave us today. Marcus! Claude! Prepare the ritual circle."
Verity	Verity and her big mouth. Two of the men in brown ropes stepped forward to her gurney and wheeled her away from Istas, toward the slumbering dragon. The ritual circle was drawn onto the rough stone floor with Sharpie, and looked like it had been retraced at least once in blood; the lines were rust-brown and irregular around the edges, like they'd been working with an uncooperative medium. It smelled like a half-dozen different kinds of blood--the sharp copper-iron of human, the slightly acidic bite of harpy, and the maple-sugar sweetness of Madhura. A bubble of fury rose in her chest, making her buck involuntarily against my restraints. She wanted to kill these people. She wanted to kill them all. All she had to do was break through a bunch of institutional-strength leather straps and kick all their asses, naked, without a weapon. Somehow, she didn't think this was going to be as easy as it sounded--a thought that was only reinforced when one of the figures in brown stepped forward, holding a bowl of deep ruby blood between her outstretched hands. Verity gaped at her. "Betty?!"
Betty	The dragon princess matriarch smiled, smug, as she asked, "You were expecting someone else?" All Verity could do was stumble for words. "If I helped them, they left my girls alone. I'm sure you understand the importance of family in matters like this one." She leaned over me, setting her bowl down on my stomach and dipping her fingers into the liquid. "Besides, I have a--shall we say, vested--interest in their success. Once that beautiful boy in there wakes up, everything will change."
Verity	"Even if he’s being controlled by a snake cult?" Verity spat. "I thought we were on the same side here."
Betty	"I'm on the side of whatever wakes the male," Betty said, and began using her fingertips to trace over the symbols on Verity's body in what was now indisputably blood. Leaning closer, she whispered, "Why else would I have given you the gold? You just had to go and tell Candice that this lovely buck was down here, and she told the Nest, because she didn’t know any better. I had to do something to show them I was serious about finding him--and giving you the gold meant you couldn't be changed, only killed. You aren't worthy of such a transmutation. What the Covenant stole from us will be restored, and you won't have any part in it."
Verity	Verity bit back the urge to scream. There it was again: the belief that they were still Covenant, that nothing her family had done since leaving could change the fact that once upon a time, they'd stayed. "You bitch."
Betty	"Yes, dear, and I've had a very long time to practice." Betty stroked bloody fingertips along Verity's cheeks before moving down to work on her stomach and legs. Voice back to a normal conversational volume, she said, "This one will be ready in a moment."
Doucheface McExpendable	"Good," declared another of the cultists. "We've never had a double sacrifice before, and I need to get up early tomorrow."
Verity	"So sorry my death is going to inconvenience you, asshole," Verity said.
This Wasn't In The Manual	He glared at Verity. "We've never had a human sacrifice before, either. Are we sure this won't set us back?"
Total Dragon Expert Rly	"Oh, no," said evil Santa, while Betty painted arcane symbols along Verity's thighs. "Her family was instrumental in the slaughter of the great dragons back when they still ruled the skies. Her death will be a signal that we truly mean our assurances of renewed dominion--that even as the dragon serves our interests, we shall serve the dragon's."
Verity	"Killing me won't wake him up!" Verity snarled. "Dragons don't run on the human sacrifice alarm clock model!" Evil Santa cast a glance at Betty, who shook her head, declaring Verity a liar. "Even if it would wake him, do you people have, like, no concept of how mass works?" Verity asked. "How are you planning to get the dragon out from under the city? A forklift? Dig a really big pit in midtown and hope nobody notices the super-mega-size lizard before you're ready? In case you've never seen a Godzilla movie, let me remind you that one fire-breathing monster versus a major metropolitan area never ends well for anybody."
An Answer For Everything	"We have more than 'one fire-breathing monster,'" said evil Santa, and waved a hand to indicate the servitors. "We have an army of the blessed."
Betty	"Stop arguing with the little bitch and kill her already," snapped Betty, picking up her bowl of blood and stepping back from the gurney. "I'm going to develop a migraine if I have to listen to her much longer."
Casual Misogyny	"Know your place, you unnatural whore," said Santa, in a mild, almost reasonable tone.
Betty	Betty took another step backward, expression furious--but not particularly surprised. When she got into bed with these people, she knew what she was doing. "My apologies, master," she said, her Mae West voice dripping with loathing.
Ritual Monologuing Time!	"Don't forget again." Evil Santa stepped back, gesturing for the others to come closer. "The virgin is prepared to make her glorious journey into the abyss, to carry news of our faith and earnest plea for the dragon's support! Soon, she--"
Verity	"Wait, wait," Verity interrupted, involuntarily straining against the straps as she attempted to sit up. "You think I’m a what?" The snake cultists turned to stare at her with expressions ranging from sheer bafflement to anger. Several of them produced long, wicked-looking knives from inside their robes. The combination was just too much. Sagging back against the gurney, she burst out laughing.
This Wasn't In The Script?	The snake cultists had apparently never tried to deal with a sacrifice who laughed at them before, because Verity's hysterical laughter threw them into utter chaos. Cultists swarmed around her, demanding to know what she was laughing about, demanding to know what she knew that they didn't, and most of all, demanding she cut that out right now. Evil Santa seemed to get the picture, because he wheeled on Betty, cheeks going red with fury as he shouted, "You said she'd be a virgin! You assured us that she was a viable offering!"
Betty	"Just look at her!" said Betty, pointing a finger in Verity's direction as she backpedaled rapidly away from him. "She looks just like her grandmother, and I know this family! There's no way she's not eligible!"
Verity	"Grandma did have sex eventually, or I wouldn't be here," Verity said, between gusts of laughter. "That’s what 'grandparents' means!"
Sarah	Verity, are you there?
Verity	Sarah's query came half a second before the static hiss of 'telepath in range' kicked in at the back of Verity's mind. She was startled enough to stop laughing for half a second before resuming, even more loudly than before. Rather than mocking, this was strongly flavored with relief. Sarah!
Get On With It Already	The cultists kept arguing. Only one of them seemed to have the presence of mind to realize that a laughing sacrifice would probably stop laughing if you killed her. The man with an early morning ahead of him started toward her, knife held in front of him at chest level. If Verity wasn't going to be a cooperative sacrifice, she could at least be a cooperative corpse.
Istas	Istas' front paws slammed into his chest when he was still four feet from Verity, carrying him to the stone floor. The sound of her snarls was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of tearing flesh, although nothing could have blocked his shrieks. The rest of the cultists stopped arguing, and there was a moment of stunned silence before most of them started screaming and ran for the exit. The servitors reacted better, maybe because the servitors were created, on some level, to fight; they produced weapons from inside their tattered clothing and fell into a defensive formation around evil Santa, all hissing viciously. If Istas was intimidated, she wasn't intimidated enough to make her stop shredding the fallen cultist. Apparently the Tooth Fairy dust had worn off on her, too. Good timing.
Betty	Betty backed up until her hip hit the gurney. It rocked a few inches to the side, wheels screeching, and she jumped with a small shriek. Whirling on Verity, she grabbed the top strap and demanded, "If I release you, will you protect me? For old times' sake?" Her attempt at a smile looked more like a grimace of sheer terror. It wasn't a bad look for her. "For everything I've been to your family?"
Verity	"If you'd made that offer five minutes ago, I might have been a hell of a lot more interested," Verity said flatly. "How about this offer: you let me go, and I don't call Istas over to rip your face off? She may do it anyway, but you'll stand a better chance of running if she isn't directly after you."
Betty	Betty stared at her, face contorted with rage. "Why you little--"
Verity	"Offer's not forever, Betty. Take it now, or run like hell, and hope I don't send her after you." Istas' massive, shaggy head appeared behind her, almost level with Betty’s shoulder. A deep rumble started in the waheela's throat. "Looks like the offer's just about expired. Let me go, or Istas eats you."
Betty	Istas kept growling, voice taking on a lilt Betty could only interpret as agreement. "All right--all right. Just don't kill me." Betty moved her shaking hands toward the buckle on the first strap. Then she spun away, producing a pistol from inside her brown cultist robe and emptying the clip into Istas' chest. Istas howled, and fell. Betty turned back to Verity, snapping a new clip into place. "You stupid little bitch," she snarled, leveling the muzzle on my forehead. "I've been waiting to kill a member of your family for fifty years. And after you're dead, every cryptid in this city is going to know that it was you who sold us out, you who told the cultists where to find us. Be proud. You've finally killed your family name." She cocked back the hammer. A gun went off. It just wasn't the gun in her hand. Betty wobbled, raising her hand to the hole in her throat. The shot had gone clean through, missing the major arteries...but really, when you shoot someone in the throat, the major arteries are sort of extra credit. With blood running through her fingers and an expression of utter perplexity on her aging face, Betty fell, revealing her shooter.
Liam	Liam stood behind her, beam pistol in one hand and an expression halfway between anger and worry on his face. "Sorry I'm late," he said, moving forward with the intent of undoing the straps holding Verity down. "Traffic was a bitch."
Verity	"That's downtown for you," Verity said on autopilot. She was staring at Liam with a kind of dazed surprise. Was this love? She was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be hit with the whole Cupid's arrow thing while there was a bunch of fresh blood on her--symbols on her body, Betty's on her face--but she was pretty sure this was what love felt like. He'd walked in, saved her life, and then bantered about it. All the internal denials of the past few weeks just melted under that onslaught, leaving just pure emotions behind. And that and all other world-altering revelations could wait until after she was free and no longer under attack. The telepathic static was still there, and getting louder. "Sarah?" she shouted, trying to think it as hard as she could at the same time. "A little backup?"
Sarah	We're on our way, Sarah replied. Liam ran ahead. Are you hurt? "Not yet!" We're almost there. Try not to die. I'll never forgive either of you.
Verity	"Wait, 'we'?" Verity bucked against the straps that Liam hadn't gotten to, trying to get a look at Istas, who hadn't moved since Betty shot her. "Sarah, what do you mean 'we'?" There was no response from her cuckoo cousin. Whatever was standing between them, it was distracting enough that she wasn't bothering to talk to Verity anymore. That was okay. There was another source of information right here. "Liam? Who's with you?!"
Liam	"Well, Sarah, obviously," Liam said, with a hint of a smile as he undid the straps on Verity's arms. "And Ryan. We got to Carol in time, but she was pretty shaken up, so we left her at Sarah's place with Angel." He suspected the pair were making short work of the minibar right about now. "Managed to get in touch with Dominic, who insisted on coming along," and Liam's voice didn't even have the usual tinge of annoyance in it that tended to color any mention of the Covenant agent. "Right now, they're dispatching the cultists that were guarding your friend Candy." Well, 'friend' was probably a bit of a stretch, but not the point. Basically the whole gang was here, Verity!
Verity	"Well, don't y'all know how to make a girl feel special," Verity murmured, still trying to pick her brains up off the floor. "Remind me to get kidnapped by cultists next time I'm trying to throw myself a birthday party." Shouts rang down the corridor connecting the dragon's chamber to the room where she and Istas had been brought first, and several of the cultists that fled in that direction came running back like their robes were on fire. None of them seemed to notice Liam was helping her out. With gunshots and bodies on the floor and whatever was going on with the rest of the group, two humans probably seemed like the least of their worries. The straps finally free, she slid off the gurney, almost stepping on Betty before she managed to get her balance back. The fight was still staying mostly on the other side of the cavern, so she paused to do the sensible thing: looting the dead. Between Betty's unfashionable brown robe, the gun she'd been carrying, and the knife originally held by the cultist Istas took down, Verity was slightly better prepared to fight her way out of the sewers. "Glad to no longer be giving these assholes a show," she said as she pulled Betty's robe on over her naked body. "If Dave couldn't pay me to dance like this, no fucking way do they get it for free."
Liam	"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you didn't get kidnapped by cultists ever again," Liam said firmly. "I agree with you on the nudity, though; there's a time and place, and this is neither." He didn't recognize the prone form on the ground, but he'd heard the gunshots and the howl of pain as he'd made his way to where Verity was being held, and between that and the other gurney, it was obvious that whoever they were, they at least weren't an enemy. So he knelt to check for a pulse. "Heart's still beating," he reported, as he moved one hand to rest gently over one of the bullet holes, about to start healing.
Verity	"That's Istas," Verity said, keeping an eye out for anyone starting to realize what they were up to. "She's another waitress at Dave's. Can you--oh good." She crouched next to the waheela, feeling the side of her neck for a pulse. It was steady. She slid her hand down to her chest, near where Liam was working; there was surprisingly little blood. She might be in shock, but thanks to her physiology, she wasn't in danger of dying. Verity wasn't going to stop Liam from taking care of her though, critically wounded or not.
Company's Coming	Only one problem with that. Liam's healing tended to give off a bright, purple glow. As Eliot would say, it was 'very distinctive.' Distinctive enough to catch the attention of several of the servitors. Verity's noise of alarm was probably unnecessary, what with the four pairs of feet and sibilant hissing that accompanied the servitors' attack.
Liam	They couldn't have waited another minute or so? Rude. Liam stood, moving as far as he could from Istas in an effort to keep her out of the servitor's path, and thus, harm's way. He'd barely begun attempting to heal her, it really wouldn't do to make her injuries worse. He took aim with the beam pistol and fired at the closest of the servitors.
Interrupting Lizards	That one took a blast to the jaw and went down, making an odd wailing noise. The remaining three just stepped around their fallen companion, still hissing, their tails waving in the air, commanding attention.
Sarah	"Verity! On the left!" Sarah's voice--the one heard by ears and not thoughts--rang through the room. Without hesitation, Verity spun to her left, pulling the trigger on Betty's gun. The servitor's eyes widened in surprise, and he fell, momentum carrying him past her to land in a crumpled heap on the floor. Dominic De Luca was standing at the entrance to the room, flinging knives at cultists with clinical precision. Those he wasn't impaling had problems of their own, in the form of Ryan, who’d abandoned his human shape for something a hell of a lot more intimidating: a seven-foot-tall raccoon-man with talons longer than most kitchen knives, really sharp teeth, and the ability to block attacks by turning parts of his body into stone. Those were some cultists who were having a seriously lousy day. Candy was shouting in the sibilant language of the dragons. It was impossible from their position to tell whether it was doing her any good--but since she was still shouting, rather than screaming while they ripped her to pieces, Verity was willing to say that it wasn't doing her any harm. Sarah was standing behind Dominic, her eyes so white that at this distance they seemed to glow. One of the servitors charged at the pair while Dominic was throwing a knife in the opposite direction, and she raised her hand, palm-out. The servitor promptly froze. He can't remember how his muscles work. I can't hold him for long. Now keep fighting!
Let The Bodies Hit The Floor	Candy was still shouting, her commands starting to take on a pleading, terrified note. After a quick exchange of glances with Liam, Verity dashed towards the dragon princess, elbowing a cultist in the throat and vaulting over two bodies before plunging into the knot of servitors surrounding her. Several of them were on the ground, bleeding from a variety of inexpertly placed bullet wounds. Three had moved to stand between Candy and the others, hissing and clicking furiously. Those had to be the ones she'd talked around to her side. Four others were trying to claw past them to get to her.
Verity	"I am so fucking tired of fighting with Sleestaks," Verity grumbled. She only had one bullet left. She aimed at the nearest servitor, fired, threw the gun aside, and charged. Fighting barefoot? Sucked. She really missed her heels. Especially when she was kicking servitors in the face.
Liam	If only Liam's vision had included the part about Verity being naked. He could've brought clothes. And shoes. "You and me both," Liam hissed, aiming another shot at the back of one of the lizards still trying to make its way to Candy. They were, it should be noted, making a lot of noise.
Holy Shit It's A Dragon	They were, in fact, making a great deal of noise. Every shot, every shout, every shrill scream of pain echoed throughout the cavern. It was a din capable of waking the dead. ...To say nothing of a sleeping dragon. One of the servitors went down with a final, ear-splitting shriek after Verity stabbed it in the neck, and then the Voice of God--or close enough--came rumbling out of the darkness, so deep it seemed to shake the ground beneath our feet: "What is going on here?" God was apparently British. Huh.
Candy	The servitors that had been attacking hissed and cringed back, posture turning subservient. Candy stopped shouting, the gun slipping from her hand to clatter to the ground as she stared with wide eyes. The dragon stared at everyone.
Verity	"Oh," Verity said faintly. "Hey, Candy, guess what? I found the dragon, and he speaks English."