Post by Mizagium on Mar 12, 2014 22:29:53 GMT -5
“Dude, that’s Rick Freaking Thunder.” One wide-eyed pedestrian slammed the back of his hand into his companion’s chest, jolting him out of his reverie, and causing him to drop his half-eaten pretzel dog.
“What?” He stared down sadly at his fallen snack, contemplating if he was desperate enough to retrieve it. “Dan, that was from Uncle Buck’s Pretzel Dogs!” He wiped away a tear. “That was the best pretzel dog I’ve ever had.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Tom, I’ll buy you another one. But seriously, look!” He pointed at the approaching figure, for whom the crowd began to part.
“Dude, that’s Rick Freaking Thunder!”
“I…I know. I just said…never mind.”
For Dino Land, Stega City passed as modern. A couple of skyscrapers thrust out from between an otherwise uniformly sea of buildings. Only Main Street was paved with anything other than cobblestone, but, considering the mayor owned the only motor vehicle in the city, no one seemed to really care. While it lagged behind Rextopia in population, capita, size, and general happiness, Stega City did have one thing that Rextopia would never have: Rick Thunder. The Dinomancer. The parting crowd quickly erupted into a chorus of
Rick Thunder wasn’t nearly as handsome as he wanted people to believe. He was a little too squat, his features a bit too squished, and his gait a little too wide, but it was just as well. Rick much preferred attention to paid to the persona he had constructed over the years: slicked-back hair, naturally mud brown, but a gleaming chocolate with the appropriate gel; dark sunglasses that he wore at all time and in all places, except for when he didn’t, but those were special occasions; black leather jacket, worn over a plain white t-shirt, and worn blue jeans; and a cigarette that he didn’t so much smoke as let hang off his bottom lip, unlit. If he ever did light it, he only sucked in a quick drag or two—useful for punctuating statements or blowing smoke in the face of anyone he didn’t like—otherwise letting it rest between his index and middle fingers. Occasionally he would tap the ash away or raise it to his lips without inhaling.
He didn’t stop for the crowd though, quite accustomed to how the residents of this city lost their minds whenever he approached. No, he was on a very important mission: a meeting with the Mayor.
“Oh. Rick Thunder.” Regulus J Witherspoon, mayor of Stega City, a balding, round man in his mid-forties glanced up from the mounds of paperwork that dominated his desk. He attempted to display a friendly façade (or at least a neutral one) but failed, allowing his worn and weary demeanor to seize control. From behind his desk and papers, only his head down to his neck was visible. He loosened his necktie and shuffled some papers between piles.
“Mister mayor!” Rick greeted upon entering the office, arms spread wide as if expecting a friendly embrace. “Didn’t expect to see me again, huh?”
Regulus blinked a few times, momentarily baffled. “What? No, I…Yes I was. In fact, I ordered you to come here. I sent you a letter.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember that.” Rick settled into one of the fancy armchairs and studied the unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“You actually replied, Rick. You sent the letter back to me with ‘I DO WHAT I WANT’ scrawled across it.”
Clearly having his own, separate conversation, Rick said, “Hey man, I took down Salador Acora like you said.” He adjusted his leather jacket with an indignant tug.
“No. No. Rick, I explicitly told you not to go. I even called security. You and three guards fought out in the hall for like five minutes before a T-Rex busted down part of my wall and took you away. Didn’t you see the tarp and police tape?”
Yes, he had. “Nope. Didn’t see nothing.” He flicked the cigarette (the entire, unlit, unsmoked cigarette) across the room before producing another one and a lighter.
“Of course not.” Regulus massaged his temple with one hand, the hand that wasn’t holding his pen, which hadn’t stopped scribbling on documents the entire time, somehow. “Look, Rick, do you see this?” He gestured to the stacks and stacks of paper.
“Pff. Reading is for chumps.”
“These are all from earlier. Complaints, insurance claims, lawsuits, pool zoning applications – all because of what you did!”
“I saved Dino Land, Regi.” Rick exhaled a sharp puff of smoke out of the side of his mouth.
This time, the pen stopped scrawling. “Ok. Let’s see if I can explain this in a way that makes sense to you. Salador Acora was holed up in the Cambrian Gene Labs building, right?”
“Yeah, man. I stormed in there and –“
“Completely destroyed the building.”
“Small price to pay, right? Otherwise he was gonna-“
“You also, somehow, obliterated three other buildings around it—the First Dino Bank, the Awesome Land Embassy, and the K-Pg Construction Company” he gestured to various piles of paper with each designation “and the Mesozoic Insurance Building, which is actually kind of impressive, considering it’s on the other side of town. So all that considered, I cannot allow you to continue this” he gestured vaguely at Rick “hero thing you’re doing.” When Rick showed no signs of comprehension, Regulus tried something else. “You know who I just got off the phone with?”
“You have a phone?”
“The mayor of Rextopia. And do you know what he said?”
“No, seriously, I didn’t think anyone in this city had a phone.”
“Well, I’ll spare you the details, but like to call me every now and then and make fun of me.”
Rick made a face and glanced at Regulus over the top of his shades, revealing a pair of pale blue eyes. “Isn’t Remus your brother?”
“Maybe.” Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his seat before returning to filling out paperwork.
Rick was silent for a long moment, considering his options. His cigarette was mostly ash by now, so he leaned over and stamped it out in Regulus’ ashtray. Except Regulus didn’t have an ashtray, so Rick had just extinguished his cigarette in the mayor’s half-eaten grapefruit. “So, what you’re saying is,” Rick said, rising to his feet, “I should fly on over to Rextopia and give Remus a stern talking to!”
“That is absolutely not what I-“
“Mayor Witherspoon!” An aide with long red hair burst into the room suddenly, frantically waving a telegram. She gave Rick Thunder a cursory, contemptuous, glance before sliding around behind the mayor’s desk. “Sir, there’s been an incident.” She tried to keep her voice to a whisper, but was too excited to do so.
Mayor Witherspoon motioned with his hands to lower her voice, lest Rick overhear. “What is it, Ava?”
Rick leaned in closer, which prompted Ava and Regulus to duck their heads down below the paper stacks. “The K Train has been hijacked by – “
“Don’t worry, little lady!” Rick stood abruptly, knocking the comfortable armchair over and putting his hands on his hips. He smiled, all teeth. “I’ll take care of the situation.”
Mayor Regulus’ hands clenched into tight, veiny fists. “Rick, I swear. If you so much as step outside – “
But he never got to finish his threat because a terrible screech split the air and a large claw smashed through the ceiling and snatched Rick Thunder away, leaving chunks of plaster strewn about and a fine layer of dust to settle over everything. Regulus and Ava could only just see a pterodactyl vanish into the distance, carrying Rick who flashed two thumbs up. Ava glanced at her boss. Very slowly, Regulus braced himself on his desk with both arms and lowered his head until it rested on a stack of signed forms. He stared at the far wall, breathing deeply and deliberately.
At some point while flying, Rick managed to climb atop the back of his flying reptile friend, where a backpack was waiting for him. Normally he’d stand up and surf his way through the skies, but today he simply sat cross-legged and contemplative. The pterodactyl screeched a question.
“No, I’m ok,” he answered.
Screech.
“I know. Some people just don’t appreciate true heroics when they see it.”
Screech.
“Yeah. That’s why this one has to count.”
The covered the city in no time, flying past the residential districts before they arrived at Stega Central Station. A crowd of nervous travelers had gathered and was being kept calm by the city police. A woman in a business suit noticed Rick and his pterodactyl friend (Petra was what he’d been calling him) which quickly turned the entire crowd around. They flew away before things got too crazy.
The K Train hadn’t stopped since the hijacking. The hijacker probably needed it to keep running as a threat to whatever governmental agency he was attempting to blackmail. He was probably in the conductor’s car with any henchmen patrolling the other cars, keeping the passengers in line. Rick had a plan, and thankfully the K Train only consisted of four cars. Petra angled downward towards the speeding locomotive.
Petra got close enough so that Rick could hop down without causing much noise. The wind stung his face with tiny, cold whips. It wasn’t anything he didn’t experience on Petra now and then, and the leather jacket and jeans protected most of his body. His sunglasses allowed him to keep his eyes open, although he did have to crouch in order to maintain balance. Fortunately, the K Train ran a relatively straight path through the city.
Each train car had a skylight on the roof, an old design that allowed for more natural light to come in, back when kerosene lamps were expensive. The windows didn’t open, but Rick could make do. Retrieving the backpack he had taken with him, he reached in and produced a squirming compsognathus dinosaur—a compy—which he held around the middle with one hand. Compies were relatively small and rather unimpressive visually, appearing as a turkey-sized, two-legged lizard, not dissimilar to a velociraptor. However, they lacked the speed, strength, and intelligence of their larger cousins, in addition to the size. Nevertheless, compies were ferocious and wily, perfect for what Rick Thunder had it mind.
“Ok, Jelly,” he said to the small creature, looking her straight in the darting eyes. “You know what to do: raise hell.” Rick smashed in the thin, antique glass with a swift kick from his heel and dropped the dinosaur inside. He was crossing to the next car before the screams and shouts started. He repeated this with the three other cars, dropping Tiki, Mort, and Zooboomafu onto unsuspecting hijackers. With the majority of the train under control, Rick moved on to the front car, where the conductor was, along with the hijacker.
The front car didn’t have a skylight, so he had to go in the old-fashioned way. He slid the compartment door open, revealing, a man with a pistol to the head of the conductor, just as he had suspected. The safety clicked off.
“Easy.” Rick put his hands up and smirked. “This don’t have to go badly, man.”
“Shut up.” The hijacker’s features were hidden behind a rather ominous black cloak that covered him from head to toe, showing only the very bottoms of his shoes (black) and his gloved hands (also black). The bottom of his jaw was just visible, angular and unshaven for a day or two. He didn’t look much older than Rick himself, but it was hard to tell under the cloak. “I know who you are, Rick Thunder. Nice try, but you aren’t going to let this man” he jabbed the conductor in the head with the barrel of the pistol “die on your watch.”
Rick didn’t dispute that, choosing instead to reach into his jacket.
“Hey!” the cloaked man shouted.
“Just getting a cigarette.” Rick slowed his actions way down to show his good intentions. He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out, stuck one in his mouth, and flipped open the lighter.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” the cloaked man said.
“Thanks, mom,” Rick sneered, lighting up.
“No, really. It’s bad for the people around you.”
Rick puffed. “Yeah, bad for you, maybe.”
Puzzled, the man dropped his stance for only a moment. “Yeah, that’s why I – “ Rick acted fast, flicking his lit cigarette right at where the man’s face should be. He recoiled with a shout, throwing his arms up defensively. His gun went off, tearing through the roof. Rick charged, slamming into the black cloaked man and then the front console. The conductor didn’t flinch and Rick could see now that he was bound and gagged. The train was out of control.
Rick and the cloaked man struggled for a moment before the compartment door was thrust open, revealing a terrified (and terrifyingly beareded) man in torn cameo who quickly shut the door behind him. “Boss, you’re not going to believe this!” He remained at the door, peering nervously through the small window. “These little, I dunno, things just fell on me and – “
He suddenly became aware of the ongoing struggle, of which both combatants had briefly paused to take in the new arrival. The cameo man wielded a rifle and clearly wasn’t too bright about it because he immediately, upon recognizing Rick Thunder, aimed at him and fire. Both Rick and his opponent jumped to the floor as the front windshield was blow out.
“You idiot!” Rick and the cloaked man shouted in unison over the roaring winds. The gun-toting man just shrugged by way of apology and raised his rifle to fire at the now prone Rick—but lowered it just as quickly, a terrified look on his face.
Staring at him from the shattered windscreen was Tiki, the compy Rick had dropped on him earlier, looking around curiously, like a scaly chicken.
“They’re back!” The man threw down his rifle and turned to run back to another compartment, only to find Jelly, Mort, and Zooboomafu waiting for him. “Uh…we surrender?”
Rick Thunder found the mayor speaking furiously with the chief of police, a man of similar age to Mayor Witherspoon, with salt-and-pepper hair and faded hazel eyes, once the K Train finally rolled into the station. Feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, Rick barged into the conversation with a sharp grin. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
It was the chief, not the mayor who spoke. “Rick,” he said slowly. “That was…really stupid what you did.”
“No need to thank me. I’m a man of the people.”
“Rick. A lot of people died. You dropped carnivorous dinosaurs into compartments filled with terrified passengers. I don’t…we don’t even have a code for this. We’re having the lawyers make up some crimes and codes so that we can properly classify this incident.”
Rick removed his sunglasses with a quick snap. “I don’t understand your fancy police talk. Give it to me straight, Mac.”
“Rick, you did more damage than the actual hijackers. Technically, you’re the criminal here.”
It was only then that Rick noticed the other police officers closing in around him, looking rather uncertain. Rick sighed heavily and replaced his shades. A few of them muttered “Sorry” but kept their hands on their guns or batons. Even the chief didn’t seem too pleased. In fact, only ReguluS J. Witherspoon seemed happy that Rick Thunder was finally getting his comeuppance.
Rick lit a cigarette as a familiar screech split the sky. With one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket, cigarette in mouth, and collar popped, he extended one hand up and caught Petra’s talon as he dove low, disappearing into the sky right before the police.
“We have to chase him,” the chief said sadly.
“Why?” one officer asked.
“Because he’s the hero we need. A confident protector, an obnoxious guardian. The dinomancer.”
“What?” He stared down sadly at his fallen snack, contemplating if he was desperate enough to retrieve it. “Dan, that was from Uncle Buck’s Pretzel Dogs!” He wiped away a tear. “That was the best pretzel dog I’ve ever had.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Tom, I’ll buy you another one. But seriously, look!” He pointed at the approaching figure, for whom the crowd began to part.
“Dude, that’s Rick Freaking Thunder!”
“I…I know. I just said…never mind.”
For Dino Land, Stega City passed as modern. A couple of skyscrapers thrust out from between an otherwise uniformly sea of buildings. Only Main Street was paved with anything other than cobblestone, but, considering the mayor owned the only motor vehicle in the city, no one seemed to really care. While it lagged behind Rextopia in population, capita, size, and general happiness, Stega City did have one thing that Rextopia would never have: Rick Thunder. The Dinomancer. The parting crowd quickly erupted into a chorus of
Rick Thunder wasn’t nearly as handsome as he wanted people to believe. He was a little too squat, his features a bit too squished, and his gait a little too wide, but it was just as well. Rick much preferred attention to paid to the persona he had constructed over the years: slicked-back hair, naturally mud brown, but a gleaming chocolate with the appropriate gel; dark sunglasses that he wore at all time and in all places, except for when he didn’t, but those were special occasions; black leather jacket, worn over a plain white t-shirt, and worn blue jeans; and a cigarette that he didn’t so much smoke as let hang off his bottom lip, unlit. If he ever did light it, he only sucked in a quick drag or two—useful for punctuating statements or blowing smoke in the face of anyone he didn’t like—otherwise letting it rest between his index and middle fingers. Occasionally he would tap the ash away or raise it to his lips without inhaling.
He didn’t stop for the crowd though, quite accustomed to how the residents of this city lost their minds whenever he approached. No, he was on a very important mission: a meeting with the Mayor.
***
“Oh. Rick Thunder.” Regulus J Witherspoon, mayor of Stega City, a balding, round man in his mid-forties glanced up from the mounds of paperwork that dominated his desk. He attempted to display a friendly façade (or at least a neutral one) but failed, allowing his worn and weary demeanor to seize control. From behind his desk and papers, only his head down to his neck was visible. He loosened his necktie and shuffled some papers between piles.
“Mister mayor!” Rick greeted upon entering the office, arms spread wide as if expecting a friendly embrace. “Didn’t expect to see me again, huh?”
Regulus blinked a few times, momentarily baffled. “What? No, I…Yes I was. In fact, I ordered you to come here. I sent you a letter.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember that.” Rick settled into one of the fancy armchairs and studied the unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“You actually replied, Rick. You sent the letter back to me with ‘I DO WHAT I WANT’ scrawled across it.”
Clearly having his own, separate conversation, Rick said, “Hey man, I took down Salador Acora like you said.” He adjusted his leather jacket with an indignant tug.
“No. No. Rick, I explicitly told you not to go. I even called security. You and three guards fought out in the hall for like five minutes before a T-Rex busted down part of my wall and took you away. Didn’t you see the tarp and police tape?”
Yes, he had. “Nope. Didn’t see nothing.” He flicked the cigarette (the entire, unlit, unsmoked cigarette) across the room before producing another one and a lighter.
“Of course not.” Regulus massaged his temple with one hand, the hand that wasn’t holding his pen, which hadn’t stopped scribbling on documents the entire time, somehow. “Look, Rick, do you see this?” He gestured to the stacks and stacks of paper.
“Pff. Reading is for chumps.”
“These are all from earlier. Complaints, insurance claims, lawsuits, pool zoning applications – all because of what you did!”
“I saved Dino Land, Regi.” Rick exhaled a sharp puff of smoke out of the side of his mouth.
This time, the pen stopped scrawling. “Ok. Let’s see if I can explain this in a way that makes sense to you. Salador Acora was holed up in the Cambrian Gene Labs building, right?”
“Yeah, man. I stormed in there and –“
“Completely destroyed the building.”
“Small price to pay, right? Otherwise he was gonna-“
“You also, somehow, obliterated three other buildings around it—the First Dino Bank, the Awesome Land Embassy, and the K-Pg Construction Company” he gestured to various piles of paper with each designation “and the Mesozoic Insurance Building, which is actually kind of impressive, considering it’s on the other side of town. So all that considered, I cannot allow you to continue this” he gestured vaguely at Rick “hero thing you’re doing.” When Rick showed no signs of comprehension, Regulus tried something else. “You know who I just got off the phone with?”
“You have a phone?”
“The mayor of Rextopia. And do you know what he said?”
“No, seriously, I didn’t think anyone in this city had a phone.”
“Well, I’ll spare you the details, but like to call me every now and then and make fun of me.”
Rick made a face and glanced at Regulus over the top of his shades, revealing a pair of pale blue eyes. “Isn’t Remus your brother?”
“Maybe.” Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his seat before returning to filling out paperwork.
Rick was silent for a long moment, considering his options. His cigarette was mostly ash by now, so he leaned over and stamped it out in Regulus’ ashtray. Except Regulus didn’t have an ashtray, so Rick had just extinguished his cigarette in the mayor’s half-eaten grapefruit. “So, what you’re saying is,” Rick said, rising to his feet, “I should fly on over to Rextopia and give Remus a stern talking to!”
“That is absolutely not what I-“
“Mayor Witherspoon!” An aide with long red hair burst into the room suddenly, frantically waving a telegram. She gave Rick Thunder a cursory, contemptuous, glance before sliding around behind the mayor’s desk. “Sir, there’s been an incident.” She tried to keep her voice to a whisper, but was too excited to do so.
Mayor Witherspoon motioned with his hands to lower her voice, lest Rick overhear. “What is it, Ava?”
Rick leaned in closer, which prompted Ava and Regulus to duck their heads down below the paper stacks. “The K Train has been hijacked by – “
“Don’t worry, little lady!” Rick stood abruptly, knocking the comfortable armchair over and putting his hands on his hips. He smiled, all teeth. “I’ll take care of the situation.”
Mayor Regulus’ hands clenched into tight, veiny fists. “Rick, I swear. If you so much as step outside – “
But he never got to finish his threat because a terrible screech split the air and a large claw smashed through the ceiling and snatched Rick Thunder away, leaving chunks of plaster strewn about and a fine layer of dust to settle over everything. Regulus and Ava could only just see a pterodactyl vanish into the distance, carrying Rick who flashed two thumbs up. Ava glanced at her boss. Very slowly, Regulus braced himself on his desk with both arms and lowered his head until it rested on a stack of signed forms. He stared at the far wall, breathing deeply and deliberately.
***
At some point while flying, Rick managed to climb atop the back of his flying reptile friend, where a backpack was waiting for him. Normally he’d stand up and surf his way through the skies, but today he simply sat cross-legged and contemplative. The pterodactyl screeched a question.
“No, I’m ok,” he answered.
Screech.
“I know. Some people just don’t appreciate true heroics when they see it.”
Screech.
“Yeah. That’s why this one has to count.”
The covered the city in no time, flying past the residential districts before they arrived at Stega Central Station. A crowd of nervous travelers had gathered and was being kept calm by the city police. A woman in a business suit noticed Rick and his pterodactyl friend (Petra was what he’d been calling him) which quickly turned the entire crowd around. They flew away before things got too crazy.
The K Train hadn’t stopped since the hijacking. The hijacker probably needed it to keep running as a threat to whatever governmental agency he was attempting to blackmail. He was probably in the conductor’s car with any henchmen patrolling the other cars, keeping the passengers in line. Rick had a plan, and thankfully the K Train only consisted of four cars. Petra angled downward towards the speeding locomotive.
Petra got close enough so that Rick could hop down without causing much noise. The wind stung his face with tiny, cold whips. It wasn’t anything he didn’t experience on Petra now and then, and the leather jacket and jeans protected most of his body. His sunglasses allowed him to keep his eyes open, although he did have to crouch in order to maintain balance. Fortunately, the K Train ran a relatively straight path through the city.
Each train car had a skylight on the roof, an old design that allowed for more natural light to come in, back when kerosene lamps were expensive. The windows didn’t open, but Rick could make do. Retrieving the backpack he had taken with him, he reached in and produced a squirming compsognathus dinosaur—a compy—which he held around the middle with one hand. Compies were relatively small and rather unimpressive visually, appearing as a turkey-sized, two-legged lizard, not dissimilar to a velociraptor. However, they lacked the speed, strength, and intelligence of their larger cousins, in addition to the size. Nevertheless, compies were ferocious and wily, perfect for what Rick Thunder had it mind.
“Ok, Jelly,” he said to the small creature, looking her straight in the darting eyes. “You know what to do: raise hell.” Rick smashed in the thin, antique glass with a swift kick from his heel and dropped the dinosaur inside. He was crossing to the next car before the screams and shouts started. He repeated this with the three other cars, dropping Tiki, Mort, and Zooboomafu onto unsuspecting hijackers. With the majority of the train under control, Rick moved on to the front car, where the conductor was, along with the hijacker.
The front car didn’t have a skylight, so he had to go in the old-fashioned way. He slid the compartment door open, revealing, a man with a pistol to the head of the conductor, just as he had suspected. The safety clicked off.
“Easy.” Rick put his hands up and smirked. “This don’t have to go badly, man.”
“Shut up.” The hijacker’s features were hidden behind a rather ominous black cloak that covered him from head to toe, showing only the very bottoms of his shoes (black) and his gloved hands (also black). The bottom of his jaw was just visible, angular and unshaven for a day or two. He didn’t look much older than Rick himself, but it was hard to tell under the cloak. “I know who you are, Rick Thunder. Nice try, but you aren’t going to let this man” he jabbed the conductor in the head with the barrel of the pistol “die on your watch.”
Rick didn’t dispute that, choosing instead to reach into his jacket.
“Hey!” the cloaked man shouted.
“Just getting a cigarette.” Rick slowed his actions way down to show his good intentions. He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out, stuck one in his mouth, and flipped open the lighter.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” the cloaked man said.
“Thanks, mom,” Rick sneered, lighting up.
“No, really. It’s bad for the people around you.”
Rick puffed. “Yeah, bad for you, maybe.”
Puzzled, the man dropped his stance for only a moment. “Yeah, that’s why I – “ Rick acted fast, flicking his lit cigarette right at where the man’s face should be. He recoiled with a shout, throwing his arms up defensively. His gun went off, tearing through the roof. Rick charged, slamming into the black cloaked man and then the front console. The conductor didn’t flinch and Rick could see now that he was bound and gagged. The train was out of control.
Rick and the cloaked man struggled for a moment before the compartment door was thrust open, revealing a terrified (and terrifyingly beareded) man in torn cameo who quickly shut the door behind him. “Boss, you’re not going to believe this!” He remained at the door, peering nervously through the small window. “These little, I dunno, things just fell on me and – “
He suddenly became aware of the ongoing struggle, of which both combatants had briefly paused to take in the new arrival. The cameo man wielded a rifle and clearly wasn’t too bright about it because he immediately, upon recognizing Rick Thunder, aimed at him and fire. Both Rick and his opponent jumped to the floor as the front windshield was blow out.
“You idiot!” Rick and the cloaked man shouted in unison over the roaring winds. The gun-toting man just shrugged by way of apology and raised his rifle to fire at the now prone Rick—but lowered it just as quickly, a terrified look on his face.
Staring at him from the shattered windscreen was Tiki, the compy Rick had dropped on him earlier, looking around curiously, like a scaly chicken.
“They’re back!” The man threw down his rifle and turned to run back to another compartment, only to find Jelly, Mort, and Zooboomafu waiting for him. “Uh…we surrender?”
***
Rick Thunder found the mayor speaking furiously with the chief of police, a man of similar age to Mayor Witherspoon, with salt-and-pepper hair and faded hazel eyes, once the K Train finally rolled into the station. Feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, Rick barged into the conversation with a sharp grin. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
It was the chief, not the mayor who spoke. “Rick,” he said slowly. “That was…really stupid what you did.”
“No need to thank me. I’m a man of the people.”
“Rick. A lot of people died. You dropped carnivorous dinosaurs into compartments filled with terrified passengers. I don’t…we don’t even have a code for this. We’re having the lawyers make up some crimes and codes so that we can properly classify this incident.”
Rick removed his sunglasses with a quick snap. “I don’t understand your fancy police talk. Give it to me straight, Mac.”
“Rick, you did more damage than the actual hijackers. Technically, you’re the criminal here.”
It was only then that Rick noticed the other police officers closing in around him, looking rather uncertain. Rick sighed heavily and replaced his shades. A few of them muttered “Sorry” but kept their hands on their guns or batons. Even the chief didn’t seem too pleased. In fact, only ReguluS J. Witherspoon seemed happy that Rick Thunder was finally getting his comeuppance.
Rick lit a cigarette as a familiar screech split the sky. With one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket, cigarette in mouth, and collar popped, he extended one hand up and caught Petra’s talon as he dove low, disappearing into the sky right before the police.
“We have to chase him,” the chief said sadly.
“Why?” one officer asked.
“Because he’s the hero we need. A confident protector, an obnoxious guardian. The dinomancer.”