A/N: This story is the sequel to Slatr, so if you haven't read that story yet...you should, so you have an idea of what's going on in this one. Thanks to Wyldfyrfan for plot ideas, inspiration and the like.

Disclaimor: Do I really need this? Anyway, I absolutely do not own Dragon Booster.

"…and then I saw it, lying there on the ground. I knew what to do. After Moordryd was out of sight, I picked up the mag-grenade…"

Any other time would have Artha Penn rolling his eyes as his brother told yet another exaggerated and whimsical story. But this story was neither exaggerated, nor intended for jest. Kitt, Parm and Artha sat attentively in Penn Stables near the dragons as Lance stood near Frachsun, who was favoring his wounds he received earlier that day. They were all listening to the full story for the first time, of how Artha's younger brother had single handedly beaten Slatr, the giant, rampaging dragon. Lance talked on in growing eagerness, spreading his arms and gesturing profusely.

Artha placed a hand to his tender jaw, and winced as pain leapt into play. He hadn't even touched the massive bruise which covered the right side of his jaw, a bruise on the only spot his legendary armor didn't protect.

"..so disgusting. But I ignored it all. I set off the mag-grenade, destroying the dragon instantly, and…."

"Wait," Parm interrupted. Lance dropped his arms to his sides where he let them dangle before placing them on his hips. He looked at Parmon with an annoyed look usually given to himself by Connor.

"What now?" Kitt sighed. "He was getting to the good part."

"Yeah, I was just getting to one of the many good parts." Lance protested in irritation.

Parm rubbed his chin as he spoke, "yes, but how in the Magna Draconis could you have held the mag-grenade and set it off, without hurting yourself in the process? Why, the mag-grenade you describe should have had an enormous impact within it's set detonation range, which, even accounting for the…."

"Um, Parmon," Lance interrupted nonchalantly, "I held it above my head and let go before it went off."

"That still wouldn't account for the scope of…."

"But…uh, it did."

"That's still not plausible. Damage by the…."

"Live with it."

"It wouldn't be…live with it? Did, did you just tell me to live with it?" Parmon nearly gaped. He looked over at Kitt, who smirked in amusement. "Well then," he huffed slightly, "fine then. Tell your…your story that doesn't make sense!"

"Okay. So I set it off, and the explosion ripped through the dragon…." Lance once again dove into his hand, arm and various facial gestures as Parm rolled his eyes. "…managed to crawl out, where I then, uh, fell in, uh, complete…exhaustion."

"Then Artha dragged himself over to you and…." Kitt let her thought trail off for Lance to finish.

"…everyone, except the big dragon, lived happily ever after. Yep. That's my tale of how I kicked the dragon's scales!"

"Impressive," Kitt mused.

"I know." Lance said and leaned against Frachsun.

Parm was in deep thought. "I suppose it could make sense."

"Of course it does. How else could I have done it?" Parm was stumped by Lance's question. "Artha," Lance said, focusing his attention on his older brother, "do you think I totally kicked scales which no one else including you could have kicked?"

Artha nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Still hurts too much to talk properly?" Kitt asked.

"Oh, noe. It's gettin bether." Artha said slowly, forcing the words out as best he could without moving his jaw too much.

"Sure sounds like it." Kitt joked, causing everyone else to laugh. Artha grimaced in good humor.

They all quieted as Connor approached. He stood silently until Parm asked, "is…how is Beau?"

Artha leaned to look past his father to Beau, who was laying weakly near the back. Artha got up and walked over, favoring his bruises. Beau barely lifted his head as he approached.

"Well," Connor said, "he does have plenty of scratches, cuts and scraped skin, which should heal normally. My main concern are the wounds in his side from that dragon's spikes."

"The ones on that were on the big dragon's tail," Lance said.

"Yes. They are clean wounds but…"

"But what?" Kitt asked.

"Poison?" Parm inquired. "Some types of dragons do have poison on their tails, contained in the spikes or the like, mainly black dragons. If Beau…"

"There is no poison," Connor cut in for the sake of everyone else around them. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Parm glanced around and managed a sheepish grin. "The wounds are clean, but deep. They'll take a while to heal."

"Buf, I have a rase in a feu daees." Artha forced out worriedly, slightly grimacing from the pain in his jaw. "How will I rase?"

Connor sighed. "I don't know if you can. You do still have quite a few bruises, and that jaw of yours will hurt like crazy on a running dragon. Perhaps you better sit the next one out." Artha sighed. "Remember, you are high up in the academy standings, being absent from one race won't hurt it too much. And besides, attention could be drawn towards your jaw. Even with a good alibi, who knows who might see through it? Which is also why we can't let anyone see Beau. Vry few dragons including a few Dragon City Security dragons withstood that kind of beating."

Artha sulked quietly, though he did see what his Dad was saying. "But Beau will get better?" Lance asked.

Connor turned to him. "Of course, he isn't the Dragon of Legend for nothing."

Beau lifted his head weakly, and acknowledged that with a low rumble.

----------

Captain Faier walked briskly through the polished corridors of DCS headquarters while the metallic smell of blood wafted through the halls. Faier had always hated that smell, but it was to be expected. Especially after a rampage like that, with so many wounded and dead.

Angrily, he pushed open the doors before him, leaving behind the sickly hospital ward of Dragon City Security Headquarters. They had said having a large and up to date hospital ward in the Dragon City Security headquarters would come in handy, especially with the threat of another dragon-human war on the verge of breaking out.

Faier shook his head slowly. If only they had gotten a better blockade up, built stronger and built quicker than they had. Or if the Dragon Booster had come sooner, then there wouldn't have been so many wounded. And dead. The dead filled the morgues with their still lying bodies and paling flesh.

Faier forced down mental images and continued walking with his head high. He walked along a narrow path to the stables, where other matters demanded his attention.

Besides the humans, dragons had been hurt and killed as well. Faier was now headed to see how the surviving Dragon City Security dragons were faring.

He acknowledged a passing security guard with a nod of his head before finally entering the stables. He walked right to a specific row of stables, and found, Magis, the stable supervisor.

Magis finished saw him and walked over from where he had been leaning against the side of the stables, waiting for him. "Any minute now."

"It hasn't been updated yet? I thought the tests were finished." Faier said grimly. It was why he had come. They had done certain tests on the dragons who had been severely injured. Normally this sort of thing wouldn't trouble Faier, this area was Magis' concern. But even the stable supervisor was disturbed by the present condition of the dragons.

"I expect they're doing some last minute…research, collaborating, the like." Magis said and motioned Faier over to a stable.

Faier moved over to him and peered inside, being very quiet. Inside lay one of the Dragon City Security dragons. She licked the wounds that had not been covered in gauze and bandages. Her entire right hind leg was wrapped in a cast, as the giant dragon had nearly snapped it in two. But as Faier had been told, it was not the grievous wound on her leg that troubled everyone. She had been one of the few dragons that had gotten too close to the giant dragon and had been hit brutally by one of the spikes that had decorated the giant dragon's tail.

She laid her head down, breathing softly, and if Faier's guess was correct, growling softly at nothing all the while. She had never even noticed their presence as Faier and Magis turned away and walked a few feet clear of the stables where they could talk in low voices without disturbing her.

"That was Prycisyon, Accur's dragon." Magis said quietly and handed Captain Faier a VIDDscreen. Faier looked at it and opened up a particular file. Soon, all of Prycisyon's files were before him.

"It seems the rest of her wounds are healing without trouble," Faier nearly murmured as he gazed at the information. Magis licked his lips, almost impatient for Faier to get to the point. "The wound on her side, healing rather well. Has she displayed any new side effects?"

"Not easily noticeable ones," Magis said, "in the beginning, she ate well, slept well and for the most part, was healing normally. Then suddenly, she began eating enormous amounts of food and barely slept at all. Now she growls at shadows and seems very suspicious and untrusting of everyone."

"And this prompted a whole investigation into her wound?"

"We fear it is some sort of poison, one unrecognizable. Two other dragons are experiencing the exact same conditions."

"Poison?" Faier had to question.

Magis nodded. "The tests should confirm any guesses we have."

"And can you explain why you think there's poison?"

Magis shrugged. "At the moment, only one thing links the three dragons. They all have been impaled by one of the giant dragon's spikes. The ones on his tail. And as you know, some species can have poison located in their spikes."

Faier nodded thoughtfully. As if cleaning up an entire city from a monstrous dragon's rampage wasn't bad enough, now they had a sort of mystery on their hands. Faier had to sigh in relief as the file on Prycisyon was suddenly updated.

"The tests are complete." Magis said almost needlessly and waited for Faier to read through it. He wasn't quite known for this patience, Faier reflected as Magis spoke up. "Well?"

Fair nodded. "Well, I suppose we should be grateful."

"Why?"

"That few dragons have been hit by the giant dragon's spikes."

"Is it bad?"

Faier paused before responding. "There is something inside the dragon, a type of poison, they say." He shook his head. "They fear the worst."

Magis nodded again. "At least only very few others had been hit."

----------

Moordryd walked almost meekly into his father's looming citadel after he had made a very quick detour to the compound and cleaned himself up. Word was standing in front of his VIDDscreens, both of his hands placed flat on the desk. His claws were slowly scratching the table beneath them. Moordryd took this as a sign that he wasn't in the best of moods.

Word didn't turn as Moordryd reached him and stood more than an arm's length away, knowing full well that he hadn't been able to wash all the stink of himself. "Erm…" Moordryd began.

Word straightened suddenly and turned his head to look at his son. "Moordryd," Word forced out between clenched teeth.

"…yes?"

Word opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, too furious to speak coherently. Moordryd stayed silent. Word seemed to gain composure, and spoke slowly. "Why did I send you out to follow Slatr?"

"Because you wanted me to…make sure he destroyed the Dragon Booster?" Moordryd nearly asked.

Word nodded his head slowly and continued. "Did he?"

"Well he almost…"

"DID HE?"

Moordryd flinched slightly at his father's outburst. "No."

"My wraiths were detained by Faier's men and their blockage!" Word yelled and turned back to his screens, slamming his fists onto the desk. "How could this have happened?"

Moordryd wasn't quite sure whether his father was actually asking him or speaking to himself. He whirled around again to glare at Moordryd. "Slatr was nearly undefeatable. How did the Dragon Booster slay him?"

"He didn't." Moordryd said cautiously. It seemed as though Word didn't hear him.

"How could the Dragon Booster have destroyed him? Slatr had no weaknesses." Word rambled, hissing at his screens.

"But he didn't," Moordryd said. "Lance Penn did."

"Lance Penn?"

"Yes," Moordryd said and took a deep breath, hoping the excuse he had made up for Lance was good enough to fool his father. "The Penn brat, well, he picked up a mag grenade, and when Slatr swallowed him whole, he must've set it off and killed him."

Word stared at Moordryd. "And Lance Penn is…alive?"

Moordryd nodded his head slowly. "I, uh…I don't know." He changed his mind and shrugged his shoulders "I didn't see. He could be dead, I guess."

"Well why didn't you see? Where were you? Did I not tell you to keep an eye on Slatr?" Word demanded.

Moordryd bluffed again. "I, uh…I was following him, like you asked. But he destroyed a part of the street, and I couldn't get around. I had to go back and find another way. By that time, Slatr was dead."

"And was Lance Penn there, telling you want he had done?" Word sneered.

"Umm…yes…" Moordryd said, trying to think of a way he could've known how Slatr was killed. "I got there, and the mini-brat was sitting beside him, covering in Slatr's blood. I asked, he quickly told me, and then I heard the Dragon Booster come. So I left."

"So he is alive." Word murmured.

"What?"

"I asked you before, 'is Lance Penn alive?' You responded, 'you didn't see.'" Word took a step towards Moordryd. "Now how is that?"

Moordryd felt his heart stop in his chest. He opened his mouth, thinking quickly. "I said…I meant, he could be dead by now." Word raised a questioning eyebrow. "You asked whether he was alive, and I said I don't know. It uh, it looked as though he was hurt pretty bad, and I don't know whether he's still alive. He could've died from…from the...the, uh…" Moordryd trailed off and walked backwards as his father came forward. "The…injuries…" He finished lamely.

His father now stood close enough to touch him, and touch him he did. He laid his clawed hand on Moordyd's shoulder. In his anger, he squeezed hard. "Is following Slatr too much to ask?" He asked.

Moordryd hesitated before responding, vainly trying not to let the pain from his shoulder reach his face. "No."

"And where did Lance get this mag grenade? Does he carry them around himself now?"

"It was mine." Moordryd took a deep breath, knowing he should stick to the story he told to Lance. "I dropped it, and he picked it up."

Word squeezed harder and leaned in close. "Your story seems to be a bit…what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Umm," Moordryd said, "…good?"

Word stared at him, then clutched his shoulder in a tighter grip. Moordryd gasped form the exploding pain as his father's claws dug into his skin. "Good? Good!" Word yelled, letting his rage get the better of him. "You think your story is good? You practically killed him yourself, dropping the grenade. You might as well have handed it to him!"

"No!" Moordryd corrected himself. "It was…it was…the Dragon Booster is hurt badly!" He blurted out.

Word seemed to calm down, somewhat, yet his claws still gripped Moordryd's shoulder securely. "Hurt bad? How bad." His temper diminished slightly, in favor of this news.

"Slatr hit him a lot, and…and he's injured. His dragon had been stabbed by Slatr spikes…"

"What? Slatr's spikes?" Word demanded, suddenly excited, his rage gone. When Moordryd yelped quietly, Word released his grip on his shoulder. "The Dragon of Legend has been pierced by one of Slatr's spikes? The ones on his tail?"

Moordry nodded, surprised and frightened by his father's sudden change of mood. Word turned, laughing slightly, of all things. Moordryd rubbed his shoulder and noticed the reddening of his suit as blood started to seep out of the wounds the claws had made.

"Yes, Moordryd. Are you sure? Good." Word walked back to his screens, still chuckling. He turned his head back to Moordryd and frowned, his happy mood swiftly gone. "Your ineptness to handle even the simplest of tasks is amazing, Moordryd. However…"

"However what? Why are you so happy his dragon was stabbed by Slatr?"

"Happy? No, Moordryd. I'm thrilled." Word went on to explain. "If any living dragon is stabbed by Slatr's spikes, then…well, they will be destroyed. Slowly at first, then…" Word slammed a balled hand onto his desk.

"How?" Moordryd asked. Word simply laughed.

"The 'poison' will run through their veins," Word laughed. Then he turned serious. "I want you to be on the look out for any dragons who had been stabbed recently. Leave no stable in all of Dragon City untouched. Look for dragons who eat much and sleep little."

"And the dragon I find who's been stabbed and looks sick is the Dragon of Legend?"

"Not necessarily. I do know some of the Dragon City Security dragons have been stabbed as well, their symptoms will come quicker than the Dragon of Legend's. Though it shouldn't be long now. Use your judgment when you find a dragon to determine whether it could possibly be the Dragon of Legend. Tell me of every dragon you find like that." Word frowned at Moordryd. "What are you waiting for?"

"Uh, nothing." Moordryd said, and turned to walk away, favoring his shoulder and smiling inside. Now he could make up for what he had done to Slatr, without hurting Lance. Only the Dragon Booster would feel the consequences.

"Oh, and Moordryd?"

"Yes?"

"Do a better job than you did with Slatr. And wash yourself. You smell something awful."