Treasure
Void
It was quiet down here. Quiet and dark. He liked it that way. Above his head, the roaring 20's were in full swing, and everyone was making the most of every second, for better and worse. It was so much better to be here in the dark than being Up There. Up There used to be his home, but now it carried only bitterness and fear. He paused now and looked up through the holes in the lid of a manhole cover, staring up at mists and the glimpses of light above. He was feeling incredibly melancholic tonight. Perhaps it was soon to be the full moon? New moons made him feel aggressive, and full moons felt thoughtful and lugubrious.
He heaved a sigh and started walking once more. His scales rasped softly against the sides of the tunnel as he walked and his tail hissed like the coils of a serpent as he made his way through the narrow passages. Lower down, the service tunnels were much larger and better suited to something his size, but he'd wanted to try to get a glimpse of the moonlight. Of course, it had to be a cloudy night. It seemed even nature was against him lately. Or perhaps always. If only he-
Noises above him stopped him. He angled his head to peer up through one of the tiny holes in the manhole cover. It was difficult to make out anything from this angle, but he could only just make out the blurred figures of four men fighting in the night street. Three of them wore white robes with pointy hats. He thought they looked ridiculous, but the fourth man, a man of darker skin color, had a look of terror on his face as they dragged him down the street. He followed, watching. Such cowards. They made certain no one could see who they were and carried out these violent acts under cover of night. He did not care much for violence, himself, but if he were to fight someone, he would look them dead in the eyes and fight them one on one. Then again, that was easy to say when you were as large a creature as he was.
The three men in white dragged the colored man to one of the access grates. Two held the struggling man while a third dragged aside the heavy metal bars that blocked the gaping hole to the city's underground. He crouched down, watching as the first man climbed down the metal ladder then stood aside to let the other two come down with their captive. The poor colored man was forced down the ladder only to be knocked off halfway down to land in the muck. Laughter rang out as they pushed the man down. Then the beating began.
He hung back, squirming and wincing at the wet thuds and pained cries. He should leave. He was not far away from these men, and they would see him. He needed to get away and hide. Yet his claws remained rooted to the floor. They were going to let him up soon, right? And let him off with nothing more than some terrible bruises? No... Even as he watched, he could see the focus and the cruelty in the blows. These men were not going to let up until the colored man was dead. He squirmed and let out a quiet whimper.
Oh, Fine!
He took a deep breath and charged forward. He did nothing so crass as to roar, but his claws scraped harshly on metal as he charged down the pipe. He opened his wings as much as he dared to fill the tunnel entirely. Light from the open manhole glinted off sparkling white teeth shaped like daggers. The three men looked up from their victim, and for a moment, all three stood like statues. Then they bolted, screaming as they tried to climb the ladder all at the same time. One managed to make it out before he reached them. The second was not far behind, but the third still clung to the ladder when his horned head whipped into it. The ladder clanged and bent slightly under the impact. The man fell with a cry. He caught the man in his mouth. He took care not to cut the man as he looked up at the open grate. Then he flung the man out. The man flew into the air, screaming, and came down hard. If he had landed on his side, he likely would have been fine aside from some bruises and possibly a broken bone or two, but his shoulder hit the pavement first, his head striking next with a solid crack! He lay like a rag doll.
He winced at the sound. He had not meant for that to happen, but perhaps the man was alright. Perhaps. He turned away and looked down at the colored man who lay in the muck panting, eyes starting out of his head. The man did not move, lying perfectly still. He was already showing some impressive bruising. He stepped over the colored man delicately and continued on his way down the pipes, disappearing in the darkness.
After a minute of playing dead, the colored man dragged himself up, clambered up the ladder, and took off running. The body of the man in white lay forgotten in the street. A few more minutes passed. Then the sound of iron scraping stone disturbed the night as a single claw carefully moved the grate back into position blocking the access into the sewers.
He heaved a sigh and started walking once more. His scales rasped softly against the sides of the tunnel as he walked and his tail hissed like the coils of a serpent as he made his way through the narrow passages. Lower down, the service tunnels were much larger and better suited to something his size, but he'd wanted to try to get a glimpse of the moonlight. Of course, it had to be a cloudy night. It seemed even nature was against him lately. Or perhaps always. If only he-
Noises above him stopped him. He angled his head to peer up through one of the tiny holes in the manhole cover. It was difficult to make out anything from this angle, but he could only just make out the blurred figures of four men fighting in the night street. Three of them wore white robes with pointy hats. He thought they looked ridiculous, but the fourth man, a man of darker skin color, had a look of terror on his face as they dragged him down the street. He followed, watching. Such cowards. They made certain no one could see who they were and carried out these violent acts under cover of night. He did not care much for violence, himself, but if he were to fight someone, he would look them dead in the eyes and fight them one on one. Then again, that was easy to say when you were as large a creature as he was.
The three men in white dragged the colored man to one of the access grates. Two held the struggling man while a third dragged aside the heavy metal bars that blocked the gaping hole to the city's underground. He crouched down, watching as the first man climbed down the metal ladder then stood aside to let the other two come down with their captive. The poor colored man was forced down the ladder only to be knocked off halfway down to land in the muck. Laughter rang out as they pushed the man down. Then the beating began.
He hung back, squirming and wincing at the wet thuds and pained cries. He should leave. He was not far away from these men, and they would see him. He needed to get away and hide. Yet his claws remained rooted to the floor. They were going to let him up soon, right? And let him off with nothing more than some terrible bruises? No... Even as he watched, he could see the focus and the cruelty in the blows. These men were not going to let up until the colored man was dead. He squirmed and let out a quiet whimper.
Oh, Fine!
He took a deep breath and charged forward. He did nothing so crass as to roar, but his claws scraped harshly on metal as he charged down the pipe. He opened his wings as much as he dared to fill the tunnel entirely. Light from the open manhole glinted off sparkling white teeth shaped like daggers. The three men looked up from their victim, and for a moment, all three stood like statues. Then they bolted, screaming as they tried to climb the ladder all at the same time. One managed to make it out before he reached them. The second was not far behind, but the third still clung to the ladder when his horned head whipped into it. The ladder clanged and bent slightly under the impact. The man fell with a cry. He caught the man in his mouth. He took care not to cut the man as he looked up at the open grate. Then he flung the man out. The man flew into the air, screaming, and came down hard. If he had landed on his side, he likely would have been fine aside from some bruises and possibly a broken bone or two, but his shoulder hit the pavement first, his head striking next with a solid crack! He lay like a rag doll.
He winced at the sound. He had not meant for that to happen, but perhaps the man was alright. Perhaps. He turned away and looked down at the colored man who lay in the muck panting, eyes starting out of his head. The man did not move, lying perfectly still. He was already showing some impressive bruising. He stepped over the colored man delicately and continued on his way down the pipes, disappearing in the darkness.
After a minute of playing dead, the colored man dragged himself up, clambered up the ladder, and took off running. The body of the man in white lay forgotten in the street. A few more minutes passed. Then the sound of iron scraping stone disturbed the night as a single claw carefully moved the grate back into position blocking the access into the sewers.