Going Nuts

Revised as of July 24, 2008, adding more conversation between Cain and Parm, and fixing small errors, as well as using more subtle yet descriptive verbs and other add-ons. Occurs before "Still Waters Freeze".

A/N: I don't know where I got the idea, cliché, yes, but I just had to write about it. This is not one of my best, just something I thought up, so don't expect characters to be completely IC and don't expect the structure to be so great. Uh, yeah, anyway, read on.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Booster.

Chapter 1:

The Brains and the Mouth

"Paaaaarm!"

"Oh, dear," the seventeen-year-old murmured nervously as Artha Penn approached him, hands akimbo. "Er, I didn't do anything! It was Lance!"

"No it wasn't!" Lance said, whipping his head at Parm. Then stopped and reconsidered what he said. "Uh, well...I'm not so sure."

This got an eye-roll from his older brother. "It wasn't you, Lance," Artha responded to his younger brother, who looked very relieved afterwards. He turned his attention back to his best friend, Parmon Sean. "I'm guessing it's Parm's fault."

"M – my fault?" Parm squeaked.

"Well, at least it's not my fault!" Lance said happily. His blue dragon, Fracshun, grinned. "But I wonder what Parm did."

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Parm argued.

"Oh, yes, you did," Artha said. Beau, Artha's dragon, walked next to his rider. "There's a race happening in a few minutes, and I can't find the level four thrusting gear! I asked Kitt, and she didn't have it! Unless somebody stole it, I'm guessing it was you who took it, since you're in charge of gear."

"Er, now that you mention it, I did take the gear..." Parm started, standing up and placing his work aside.

"Yeah, well, why did you take it in the first place?" Artha wanted to know.

He instantly regretted asking.

"Well, see, I noticed that the gear had been acting a bit dysfunctional these past few races, so this morning I took it, analyzed its exterior and interior modeling and utilities and found an detrimental error in the maneuvering programming, thus leading to a elongated activation that would be considerably critical if needing to place the thrusters in reverse and braking, so I'm working on fixing it and if possible adding a bit more strength to intensify the thrusters so when halting will be immediate and prompt."

Silence. "Uh, can you fix it?" Artha asked, shifting his eyes sheepishly as Lance held what could only be his aching head.

"Didn't I just say I was fixing it?" Parm breathed, narrowing his eyes.

"Unfortunately the things that come out of your mouth are unknown to the ears of us normal people, Professor," Kitt Wonn piped up, stepping inside with Wyldfyr and standing beside Artha. She shook her head and extended her hand. "Look, the race is about to begin. Just give Artha back the gear! I'm sure the problem isn't that bad?"

"Oh yes, I forgot to mention that it will physically combust if the heat intensity is rapidly high, thus causing other gear around it to also explode," Parm added.

More silence. Lance finally broke it by saying "What?" and then Beau chuckling.

Parm sighed. "Oh, forget it," he said, turning away to get back to fixing the gear. "Just borrow a level one thrusting gear from Kitt."

Kitt scoffed. "Oh yeah, and so I'll just race without my gear. I only have one thrusting gear, Parmesan, and despite being level one, there's no way I'm letting Artha use it!"

"Hey, c'mon, Kitt, I'm the leader of this racing crew," Artha said, turning his head to the best racer in Dragon City. "Can't I use it just this once, please?"

"Nope."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Please?"

"Keep it up and you'll be saying hi to my fist, stable boy," she growled softly, her eyes telling him she was joking. Artha laughed.

There was suddenly a loud stomp from behind them, followed by a cackle. "Hello, stable brats," the voice drawled.

Artha's smile disappeared as he rolled his eyes. Parm meanwhile shrieked and whirled right around as Moordryd Paynn and his dragon, Decepshun, approached the Penn Stables, along with Cain and Coershun. Beau growled and Wyldfyr snarled at Moordryd's dragon, who snarled back.

"What do you want, Paynn?" Kitt demanded, reaching for a mag-staff. "Another butt-kicking, probably!"

"Wow, what a warm welcome!" Cain said, smirking.

"And what wonderful guests we have there today!" Kitt retorted, slitting her eyes as she placed a hand on her hip. "First we're late for a race, and then you guys arrive. Isn't that just great?"

"No, we're just here to award you with 'The Most Sarcastic Brat' Award," Cain replied, apparently enjoying himself. He gave her a look as sincere as Word Paynn's smile. "It's a real honor to get that, you know."

"Enough, Cain," Moordryd told his Dragon Eye second-in-command and fellow friend, then turned back to the Penn Racing Crew, smirking as he lowered the bottom visor of his helmet. "Since it seems like there's nothing else to do, we're here to take your dragons."

"Well, you could have chosen a better time than this!" Artha retorted, glaring at his proclaimed rival. "We need to race! Don't you compete in the races too, Moordryd?"

"I'm taking a break," Moordryd replied coolly, reaching for an energy drain whip. Cain extended a mag-staff, cackling as they advanced forward slowly. "Now, give us your dragons, or else!"

"Or else what?" Kitt said just as coolly, spinning her mag-staff. "You don't scare us. Right, guys?"

"Er, yeah, you don't scare us! Not a bit!" Parm said, despite his voice being shaky and his knees wobbling as he feebly extended his own mag-staff.

"Lance, get the flash stick!" Artha told his little brother, who saluted him and ran off to get it. He turned back to Moordryd just in time to see the young leader of the Dragon Eyes jump off his dragon, diving forward with a yell.

Artha quickly ducked and punched forward, but Moordryd moved away swiftly, snapping his energy drain whip forward.

"Beau, get the dragons out of here!" Artha cried, throwing himself onto the ground as the snare of the whip nearly got his head. Beau grunted and shook his head, wanting to fight Decepshun, who was crawling near with a malicious smirk on her face.

"Beau, do it!" Artha told him, and pushed Moordryd back with his mag-staff. Beau was about to lead the dragons away, but not before ramming into Decepshun, who tried slamming her tail down on Beau.

While the fight between Moordryd and Artha and their dragons ensued, Cain was preparing to go after Lance, before getting, unbeknownst to him before it happened of course, struck down by Kitt. Lance and Fracshun ran off immediately, while Wyldfyr reared back on his hind legs and attacked Coershun.

"Take one more step near him and I'll scrape your scales clean!" Kitt yelled, and charged forward again. Cain quickly dove out of the way just as the staff came down hard, striking ground. The man groaned and looked up to see Parm backing away slowly. Cain quickly lunged forward, grabbing his foot and pulling it back so that Parm fell to the ground.

"Ow!" Parm groaned, shaking his head as he opened one eye groggily, and shrieked as Cain's mag-staff prepared to strike his face. He quickly lifted up his mag-staff to block the attack, and the impact of the blow caused him to wince. Parm quickly scurried out of the way, and was just about to run, but not before Coershun mag-blasted Parm straight into a wall.

"Parm!" Artha called, his eyes widening, and grunted as Moordryd's whip grasped his arm. He quickly used his mag-staff to cut off the energy connection, but Moordryd pulled out his own mag-staff and jabbed forward, then sideways. Artha blocked off the first blow, and managed to just barely avoid the second.

"Stable brat!" Moordryd taunted, and kicked forward.

"Daddy's boy!" Artha returned, blocking the kick, then grinned. "Hey, that's not bad!"

He yelped as Moordryd's foot came in contact with the side of his face. Artha stumbled to the ground as Moordryd yelled, "Shut up!" and continued his attack.

"Daddy's boy?" Cain scoffed as he attacked Parm with his mag-staff, who dodged and screamed. "Is that the best your little friend can come up with?"

"Well, you see..." Parm was about to say, but before he could talk Coershun had gotten Wyldfyr pinned down at a corner and was charging at him. "Oh, no!"

There was a deep, rumbling roar before Parm's dragon, Cyrano, collided with Coershun, sending Cain's dragon off balance. "Cyrano, thank the Magna Draconis!" Parm gasped, grateful to see his dragon.

Cyrano simply nodded, before Coershun bashed into Cyrano, sending the dragon a bit off balance itself. The green dragon growled at Coershun, who smirked and decided to use a mag-blast assault instead, thus bringing Cyrano to the ground.

"Oh dear!" Parm said.

"Looks like your dragon is done for, stable brat!" Cain sneered.

Parm backed away, but then he shook his head and glared at Moordryd's minion. "You know, your dragon has no chance at all against Cyrano!" Parm said, picking up his mag-staff. "Without any type of strength-based gear and a more agile and sleek build of body, it will lead to my Bull-class dragon still being able to stay upwards with no energy being depleted as much as your Psi-class dragon's energy is lowering more quickly."

It wasn't as confusing as most of Parm's words, but the way he said it left Cain standing there, mouth agape, before he growled. "Gee, thanks for the little lesson, Professor," he muttered, gripping his mag-staff. "But I'm sure your little lecture can be used elsewhere."

Parm, knees still knocking against each other and his body vibrating like a sofa chair, still held up his mag-staff with a defiant look in his eyes. "I w – I won't let you hurt Cyrano!" he barked (or yipped). "No matter how much you threaten me!"

Cain chuckled. "We'll see about that, nerd," he said. "Unlike you, I don't need to overanalyze every little thing, I just act."

"Cain, get their dragons!" Moordryd called from his fight.

"I'm trying!" Cain responded back, grabbing and securing a trapping net and aiming it at Parm. He smirked smugly. "So, with a scientific example, I'll need to take care of you first to demonstrate."

Parm's bravado started to fade away as he realized the probabilities of conquering through his current situation. Which, if the possibilities were rounded, was 1.32 repeating over quite a big number.

"Oh, stop it!" he groaned aloud, courage returning to him as he raised his mag-staff. "I need to stop thinking and just do things impulsively for once!"

He then did what first came to mind: he charged straight at Cain with a battlecry more higher-pitched than Moordryd's.

And Cain did something that he did not think he would do: think about what was this guy on, which caused a delayed reaction as the staff smacked into his foot.

Meanwhile, the noise of things being tossed around filled the air. "I can't find the flash stick!" Lance's voice cried from one of the stable rooms.

"Forget the flash stick!" Kitt yelled. "Just grab something we can use!" She had decided to go after Moordryd with Artha, and was now preparing to attack Moordryd, who had gotten himself pressed to a wall.

At that moment, Decepshun activated a green bashing gear, an attack ball flying at the girl's face. Kitt gasped and was pulled away by Artha as the ball hit the wall, ricocheted off a pole, and flew at two charging men with mag-staff in both hands.

More specifically, Parm as the ball collided with his head, and went flying high into the air.

"Oh no," Kitt said, her expression turning from anger to worry. Cyrano and Beau gasped, and Wyldfyr's eyes widened.

"One down, three to go," Moordryd murmured, though he wasn't exactly smiling.

"Parm!" Artha called, his eyes widening in horror. "Are you okay?"

Parm didn't seem to hear Artha. Instead, a goofy grin crossed his face as he raised a finger. "See, now, to calculate and round of the proximity and frequency of how much speed a dragon can compile..." he said woozily, before he collapsed onto the ground in an unconscious heap.

Cain took a few steps back. "Okaaaay, I'm getting out of here," he said nervously, turning around to run like the wind, only to have that same attack ball come down on his head. The last thing he saw before everything went black was an explosion of stars, lights, and a memo to buy milk.

Coershun screeched with concern. "Cain? Cain!" Moordryd called to the second unconscious heap, and shook his head with a groan. "Oh, great, just what we need."

"Yeah, just what we need," Artha repeated stiffly. He ran over to Parm's side and shook the man by the shoulders as he knelt. "C'mon, Parmesan, get up!"

"What's going on?" Lance asked, then gasped when he saw Parm and Cain, as well with Fracshun, who hid behind Beau. "Aaah! What happened?"

"Moordryd's stupid dragon knocked Parm and Cain out!" Artha told him.

Decepshun screeched angrily. "Calm down, Decepshun," Moordryd told her, resting a hand on his dragon's head, then looked back at his rival irritably. "And my dragon's not as stupid as yours."

Beau shot Moordryd a dirty look. "Can we get back to the subject here?" Kitt snapped. She folded her arms. "Okay, Professor's knocked out, and so is your annoying lackey. That gives us less headaches than we already have. Now, if you excuse me, I need a drink."

She then walked away. "Kitt, Parm and Cain are knocked out!" Lance reminded her.

"He's got a point, Kitt," Artha said sternly as she got herself a glass of water. "This is no time for a water break!"

"In my opinion, this is a time to get out of here, so do me a favor, and move out of the way so I can get Mr. Snarky back to the compound as well?" Moordryd said.

Kitt walked back over to where Parm and Cain were lying, and promptly splashed her glass of water over the two.

Lance, Beau and Fracshun burst out laughing. "Good idea, though they're still not coming to," Artha said, feeling extremely awkward over this whole situation.

"Fine then," Kitt said, smiling, then bent down next to both of them. She studied both unconscious, and wet, figures, before closing her eyes, leaning closer downwards, taking a deep breath, and proceeding to scream, "GET UP ALREADY!"

The reaction was immediate, as they both screamed and sat up instantly, looking around. "Hey, good job," Artha said, looking at Kitt, who gave a smug smile. Moordryd just muttered something and Lance continued laughing. Artha patted Parm on the back, who was coughing from choking on the water. "Good to have you back, Parmesan."

"Parmesan?" his friend repeated, though his tone was lower and his pitch less squeaky than usual. He frowned. "You know, I think the last time I checked, I wasn't a type of cheese."

"Parm's back!" Lance grinned, throwing his arms in the air.

But Parm just stared blankly at the little redhead. "Parm?" he asked. "Who's Parm? And just who are you, squirt?"

"That would be you, apparently," Moordryd said, getting on Decepshun. "Let's go, Cain!"

But the strong man didn't seem to notice. "Cain?" he asked, rather politely and primly. He turned to Parm with a wide-eyed look. "Is that supposed to be you? Or the child, perhaps? Er, maybe that guy over there with the burnt racing coat! Or that girl?"

Coershun went up to his rider, who instead of getting on him screamed and cowered back. "Wh - wh – what does it want?" Cain cried, shaking from head to toe.

"That's your dragon, Coershun, remember?" Moordryd explained, rather impatiently. "Now quit fooling around! We have to get back to the compound!"

Cain just looked even more confused. "My dragon? Compound?" he questioned. He shook his head and stood up to pace. "No, no, I'm not sure I really remember any of that, really..."

"Hey, I don't know about you, but it sounds drac to me," Parm remarked casually. Kitt, Artha and Lance whipped their heads to look at Parm with utmost disbelief.

"Uh, drac, Parm?" Artha gasped. "These are the guys who came here, tried stealing your dragon, hurt him, and are also planning to start a dragon-human war!"

"My dragon?" Parm asked. Cyrano came up beside Parm and looked at him, but Parm just stared back. "Wait, this is my dragon? And, come again, but who are you? All of you?"

"Parm!" Kitt seethed, slapping her hands on his shoulders and shaking him like a rag doll. "Quit joking around! And that means you too, Cain!"

"What? But, but, I didn't do anything!" Cain cried, putting his hands up as he looked around.

"Yes, you did, Cain! You're making me really annoyed, and that's bad!" Moordryd yelled.

"Oh, my! Sorry, er...whoever you are!" Cain squeaked, absolutely overwhelmed.

"Guys..." Lance started.

"Not now, Lance," Kitt said. "First I have to deal with our friend here who is just making my day a whole lot better."

"Gee, whoever you are, you deserve 'The Most Sarcastic Brat' Award," Parm drawled at Kitt with narrow eyes. "Trust me, it's just as great as getting a burn from a high-level thrusting gear, which I think I'd rather get instead of you badgering me, woman."

"Actually, it's not just that," Cain started, standing up straight to attention and raising his finger in an informative manner. "See, the temperature and heat capacity of the flames from thrusting gear, plus dangerous red draconium working in tandem with other specific properties of the equipment can cause you not only to have your skin torched and excessively damaged but to also melt and turn into ashes, as does the torched part of your arm."

Silence. Complete, utter, silence. Jaws dropped open. Eyes boggled. A tumbleweed rolled past and the scurrying of rats could be heard. Well, the last part not so much.

"Uh, yeah...Moordryd, what did he say?" Artha asked, turning to Moordryd.

"Ask the brainy brat, Penn, not me!" Moordryd shot back. "I only understand half of the technoscales anybody can tell me."

"Parm, what did he say?" Artha asked, moving Kitt aside and grabbing his friend's arm.

Parm scoffed. "Sheesh, how should I know? I'm not a thesaurus," was what the brainiac replied dryly.

Nine pairs of eyes were glued to both men.

"What?" both of them asked in unison.

To Be Continued