"That's a... strange name." Thragg said, shrugging as he grabbed a book, a compiled and refurbished work of numerous Scrappers, detailing everything they knew about the Dragons. Thragg knew little about the strange metallic beasts and so did everyone else. The book itself was about as thick as his pinky finger, only a hundred pages or so. He flipped open the first few pages, much of it being rough sketches and musings of the Scrappers who first encountered the beast, deep in the Scrapyards. It certainly looked the part – huge and menacing, covered in glimmering silver scales, and wings large enough to blot out the sun if stretched to their fullest. But there were many varieties of Dragons, Nareena once said, some were stronger than others, but they all kind of looked the same – emerald eyes and silver scales.
Shrugging, Thragg walked towards a seat that lay on the opposite side of Nine, before he sat down.
Nine chuckled as he flipped several more pages of his tome, the shimmering blue lights dancing around the room, like a faint fire. "I could say the same of you. Thragg is not exactly a common name, I think."
Thragg nodded, conceding the point. His name wasn't common among humans, because he wasn't human. Fair enough. But, in a way, that just meant having a name like 'Nine' was even stranger, unless the man before him was, in fact, not human, like himself, hiding among humans. Once again, Thragg couldn't find it in himself to care too much about such a thing, considering it was exactly what he was doing. "So, did you want to ask or talk about anything? Otherwise, I'd like to read in silence."
In truth, he already knew everything there was to know about Dragons, which wasn't a whole lot, considering how dangerous the beasts were and how aggressive they were towards anything that just happened to move. According to the book, a fact corroborated by Nareena herself, Dragons would breathe their green fire on anything that moved quickly. Their breaths did not burn or melt; instead, whatever was caught by the flames were broken down into their subsequent molecules, appearing as though they collapsed into dust – living or nonliving. One couldn't defend against a Dragon's fire. No shield could stand against it. So, the favored tactic among the Scrappers, who were crazy enough to tackle such a dangerous beast, was to move faster than the Dragon could unleash its flames.
That was Nareena's entry, advising Scrappers to tune their Standard Armored Suits for speed if they planned on hunting down and having an actual chance against the beasts.
"Your son," Nine began, speaking as he continued browsing through the pages of the tome in his grasp. "He is very special, isn't he?"
Thragg raised a brow, before he nodded. Argall was special – more than anyone else on the planet. The boy was destined for greatness, destined to have his name written in the stars. "He is, indeed."
"A genius inventor of unparalleled skill and creativity," Nine continued. "His potential is limitless - infinite. I can scarcely imagine the sort of wonders he'd soon create with his ability. Combined with his charisma and intelligence, Argall could forge an empire that spans the entirety of the Galaxy, perhaps – even – beyond it."
Thragg often wondered the same thing. Though, he did not miss the implication that Nine knew about his son. Thragg was rather certain of the fact that Nine was not a teacher in the academy and neither was he a local. He knew every face of every permanent resident in Alka. Nine was not among them. He was a stranger. The only way he could've known about Argall though the act of gathering information about him, which further implied a deliberate intent to learn about his son. There was a motive here, then, Thragg concluded, involving his boy. Though, he just wasn't sure what that motive was. And, ultimately, Nine wasn't and wouldn't be the only stranger to be fascinated by Argall's abilities. Far from it, in fact, which was why he didn't think of the man as a threat just yet. But Thragg's suspicion grew with every passing moment. "I know. That is why I must teach him to be... better than I am."
Better than he used to be.
"I'd expect nothing less from the child of Nareena," Nine said, smiling faintly. "But, I must ask; do you know where or how your child came to possess such an ability? His mother is smart and intelligent, yes, but – as far as I'm aware – she does not possess the same aptitude for technology. And you, I believe, are no inventor."
Thragg closed the book he was reading and turned his full attention to the man before him, eyes narrowing. That was a strange, but otherwise valid question. Anyone with enough brain cells, coupled with a keen interest in Argall, Thragg mused, would eventually ask the same thing. And the simple truth was that... Thragg didn't know. He couldn't even properly explain Argall's extreme growth rate, though he didn't exactly find such a thing to be strange, given his half-Thraxan children, who reached full physical maturity within a year or two. The only explanation he could think of was that Argall wasn't human – or, at the very least, not entirely human, any more than a Viltrumite. "My boy is simply gifted. There is no other truth – no other answer. He is a genius of unparalleled ability – nothing more, nothing less."
"Why have you taken such a keen interest in my child?" Thragg asked, raising a brow. "If you're looking to recruit him for a project of some kind, you're welcome to do so, provided Argall agrees, but I think you're going to have to wait until after the war is finished."
"Oh, your boy is interesting, no doubt," Nine answered. "And I do plan to recruit him. But my interest now, believe it or not, is you."
The door of the library suddenly slammed close and the candle fires blazed a baleful blue, illuminating the darkness in dancing azure lights. Thragg stood up, hands closed into fists. The stranger chuckled and, when he spoke, his voice reverberated, echoing with a chorus of other voices, his tone dark and malevolent. "I do not know who or what you are, but I know that you're not from here, interloper. Your presence has ruined every single plan I've concocted. And now, because of your interference, I am forced to act directly."
Thragg raised a brow and shrugged. What a nutjob. "I honestly have no idea what you're even talking about. Do you need help? There's a shrink in town; Doctor Eva should still be available for walk-in patients."
"Because of you, my lord will now never become the Arkifane!" Nine stood up and raised his staff, the tome levitating beside him. Thragg eyed the blue energies that flickered around the man – apparently an enemy of his... or something. He still wasn't sure what was going on. And they were having such a civil conversation about how awesome his child was. He hadn't even been able to properly brag about Argall. What a disappointment. "You've become an obstacle and, because of that, you must be destroyed."
Azure energies flared up around the man, tongues of blue flames erupted from his eyes.
Thragg recognized the power immediately.
Magic, huh?
The Viltrumite Empire encountered... a few enemies who made use of such an arcane force and all of them had been annoying to deal with. Unlike technology, which could often be dealt with if they punched it hard enough, magic was not so easily destroyed. More than that, magic was one of the very few things that could actively harm and possibly kill a Viltrumite. However, like any enemy, they were destroyed eventually and an understanding was passed between every Viltrumite. If faced with a master or wielder of magic, the best thing to do was to kill them as quickly as possible, before they could utter a single incantation or begin a ritual – or do anything. Thragg himself had fought hundreds of such foes, defeating each of them handily.
But... Thragg didn't want to kill him if he could. But it also didn't seem like diplomacy was an option, unfortunately. The man before him, Nine, a name that was very likely fake, was ready to attack, ready to unleash some kind of spell that may or may not be harmful. Thragg gritted his teeth. He couldn't take a chance. And he wasn't going to spare the life of an enemy when his own life was probably on the line. He had a family now, a wife, and two children; death wasn't an option anymore.
And so, before the sorcerer could make even the slightest gesture, Thragg surged forward and grabbed his mouth, crushed his jaw, broke both of his arms and then shattered his staff, before flying out the window and hurling Nine into the sky with enough force to send him beyond the planet's orbit – all of it in less than a tenth of a second, so fast that, at the very least, the magic user likely would not have felt any pain from the ordeal. An enemy he might have been, no living creature deserved to suffer and die in agony.
"You made me do this..." Thragg gritted his teeth as he quickly flew back into the library. The blue flames had disappeared, though every candle was now dead. The light bulbs, however, quickly flickered to light, illuminating the darkness. There was a tiny bit of blood on the floor, splattered there when Thragg crushed the sorcerer's mouth to prevent him from uttering an incantation. Similarly, he'd broken the man's arms to stop any magic that relied on physical gestures. Thragg destroyed the staff as well, since – in his experience – sorcerers often relied on such items as a means of applying their spells; without it, most magic users were helpless. Thragg hurled the man right out of the planet as he'd seen them mark their bodies with symbols and rituals that activated at the moment of their deaths, unleashing a final, highly destructive spell of some kind.
Hence the standard operating procedure against magic users: overwhelm them with physical force and then toss them out into space, a tactic that has proven effective time and time again.
Still, Thragg wondered; just what the hell was an Arkifane and why did that crazed lunatic believe that that was his son's apparent destiny? Thragg's eyes narrowed. What did that word even mean? Still, such a thing was foolish. Destiny was never set in stone. It was fluid and ever changing, like a tree with an infinite number of branches, each one comprised of a choice made under differing circumstances. The sorcerer believed that Argall was destined for something, in particular, a specific destiny that he – and, likely, others like himself – foresaw.
If such a belief led him to violence, then it could not possibly be good for Argall, which meant Thragg would have to make sure to keep his son away from this... Fate of the Arkifane. Then again, if a follower of it thought that his presence was interfering with Argall's darker destiny, it simply meant Thragg was already doing a good-enough job at steering his son into the path of righteousness.
Sighing, Thragg, turned his attention to the blood on the floor, to the shards of glass scattered on the floor, and to the gaping hole in the window, the warped metal bars that bent outwards when he flew through it.
Luckily, no one came up to investigate. If someone came over here to check, then all they'd find was a broken window and maybe a few droplets of blood on the floor, so miniscule that it'd take an extremely keen eye to even notice – or a scanner. Shrugging, Thragg reached into his pouch, a fanny pack he'd tied around his hips, and procured a credit chip, worth five thousand units – more than enough to pay for the damages he'd caused. With a sigh, Thragg retrieved the book he'd taken from the shelf and slid it back into place. And then, he stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. The sorcerer's tome was still there – still letting out an ominous blue hue.
"What do I do with you?"
A moment passed before Thragg grabbed the tome by its spine, the object hissing and smoking at his touch; with a scowl, Thragg flew out the window and hurled the tome out the planet's orbit – the best and only way for dealing with dangerous magical things. He flew back in and promptly walked out of the library. The strategic meeting was starting soon; his son was likely already waiting for him.
AN: Happy New Year!