Artha Penn groaned. It was three days after the Drag ball Competition and he definitely wasn't happy. He had injured himself when a giant rock crushed his left side in a fight with the ShadowBooster the day before the Drag ball competition, and competing only made it worse. Right after the competition Artha had been sent immediately to the DownCity Hospital for treatment and was released a few days later. Unfortunately he still couldn't walk, and Moordryd was more than likely to start causing trouble again soon. With the DragonBooster out of the way there was no telling what Moordryd and Word were going to do! Artha sighed. Sometimes being the DragonBooster was extremely difficult. There was a timid knock on his door. It creaked open to his little red-headed brother Lance.
"How are you feeling?" Lance asked. Artha's only reply was a groan as another bolt of pain seared through his left side. "Not that good huh?" Lance got really quiet when Artha didn't reply. Usually you couldn't get him to shut up. Finally Artha managed to say "So how's Beau doing?" Lance's eyes flashed towards the door. "Oh, he's fine." He said with a careless wave of his hand. "Better than the shape you're in. He's like a straight line and you're all twisted like a giant soft pretzel." Artha glared at him. "Not that there's anything wrong with pretzels! They're salty, and crunchy, and . . . I should stop talking shouldn't I?" Lance said. Artha nodded.
"What about Parm and Kitt?" He asked, "How are they doing?" Lance smirked, "Kitt won't stop calling. She's worried sick about you. You really went overboard in the competition. Anywaysm Parm . . . well, Parm was too busy making improvements to his video game. He says, quote, "I am on the verge of a technology breakthrough!" Unquote" Lance rolled his eyes. "Same old Parm. You know him and his technology." Suddenly, Lance's head snapped up. "I… uh… gotta go. Feel better!" And then he was gone. What was he up to?