Where the Predators Prowl: [Ch 70, 71]

70. Cascade

We slipped out of the Atomic Cafe without any more parental disasters, which felt like a minor miracle after the dual family ambush. 

After extracting the sleek black glider, Nessy, Candace, and Adelle climbed into the bag. Kristi slung it over her shoulder, and I took my seat in front of her on the Nemesis.

The glider lifted into the air, the city spreading out beneath us. Candace stuck her head out of the bag, her silver hair whipping in the wind.

"Left at the next intersection," she directed, pointing with a white claw. "Then straight toward the front gate. Then keep moving East for a bit across the edge of the barrier.”

Kristi nodded, adjusting our flight path per fox-instructions. 

Ferguson downtown’s 1920 Art Nouveau architecture gave way to more modest neighborhoods of one storey bungalows. Then the buildings became sparser and rougher around the edges, eventually culminating in a crowded, haphazard collection of trailers, prefab units, and makeshift structures clustered near the barrier dome.

A grimy trailer park came into view, bordered by a junkyard from one side and industrial concrete storage warehouses from the other. Chain-link fences and piles of rusting junk were a rather prominent feature of this neighbourhood.

“Land over there by that rusty blue trailer,” Candace said.

Blue-tinted prads in hoodies loitered on porches or leaned against beat-up cars, their eyes tracking us as we descended. No one dared approach and some vanished inside of their trailers, trailing blue smoke behind them, as a delving glider like the Nemesis and the Decimator rifle hanging over Kristi’s shoulder stated “raptor mafia” in bold letters.

We touched down in a dusty clearing, the engines whining down to silence. Candace repackaged the glider back into the bag after the other girls emerged from its innards.

“This doesn’t seem like Dragon Alley,” I said.

“Nah,” Candace said. “Dis is Terry’s place. Reckon she could use a trip to the mall with us.”

“Ah, right.” I said. 

I remembered this area vaguely—we'd dropped Terry off nearby a few nights ago, close enough to the park but not quite inside. 

"She didn't want me seeing where she lives?" I guessed.

"Yeah,” the fox girl nodded. “Terry's always been touchy about her home life. Come on, her family's trailer's this way."

We wove through the park, past trailers in various states of disrepair. Some were patched with mismatched metal, others sagging under the weight of accumulated junk. Piles of random trash dotted the landscape: old tires, broken appliances, half-dismantled bikes. The air smelled of rust and faint smoke from backyard grills. More prads eyed us suspiciously from half-shuttered, dirty windows.

Terry's trailer was tucked between two others, a faded blue unit with peeling paint and a sagging striped awning. Random shit was piled up around it: empty crates, tangled hoses, a rusty barbecue grill missing its lid, blue-tinted cigarette buds and far too many beer cans and bottles.

Candace rapped on the door with her knuckles.

It creaked open after a minute, revealing a round-bellied lynx woman with sunken eyes and matted fur. She wore a stained shirt that read "Visit Scenic Lake Eerie, explore the ruins of Denver" in faded letters, stretched tight over her ample frame. She squinted at us, reeking faintly of stale beer and cigarettes and something distinctively, sharply sweet.

Judging by the fact that her fur was blue at the edges, it was Topaz.

"Yeah?" she rasped. "What d'you want?"

"We’ve come to pick up Terry," Candace said. “We're her friends.”

The lynx, presumably Terry’s mother, eyed us up and down, her gaze lingering on our clean clothes, nose twitching.

"Friends, huh? She ain't mentioned no fancypants pack like you lot." But she stepped aside anyway, gesturing us in with a jerk of her head. "She's in her room."

The trailer interior was dusty, dim and cluttered with piles of smelly clothes, newspaper articles and random bags.

We navigated through a narrow living room stacked with boxes. Every unclaimed surface there was populated with what looked like a massive dust-covered ‘beanie pradies’ collection.

"Terry!" the lynx woman barked, pounding on the slightly bent door. "You got visitors! Fancy ones!"

A muffled groan came from inside. 

“Prolly drunk again.” The woman shrugged. “N’ways. I got my show, you lot are welcome to claw her outta thar.”

She departed into the living room to the sound of her TV drama.

“Unbind lock,” Candace put a paw on the door.

The lock clicked open. 

Candace pushed the door open.

The room beyond was dark, lit only by the flickering light of an ancient television set placed directly on the floor. The walls were bare except for a piece of paper taped lopsidedly to one wall. Terry sat against her bed, staring blankly at some static-laced channel, a half-empty bottle of tequila clutched in her right paw. She wore a white tank top that clung to her curves and simple white underwear shorts, her fur disheveled and eyes bloodshot.

“Wauh?” She turned towards us, wiping her eyes. It looked like she was crying earlier. 

I noted that the paper on the wall was a job application form. 

"Hey Terry," I said, stepping to the somewhat clean spot on the carpet beside her, "what's with the paperwork art installation?"

"Mom's reminda' that I gotta pay rent if I'm stayin' here. Like I need remindin'." She snorted. “Beerch chagring me five hundred a month for this closet. Fukin’ highway robbery."

"You're paying rent to your own mother?" Nessy asked.

"Uh-huh,” Terry yawned. “She undoubtedly is already planning to spend it all on T-dust smokes and alcohol.”

“Right then,” I said. “We’re taking you out of here. That’s enough drunk-binge sulking.”

"Ye, Fluffy, pack yo bag,” Candace said. “You're coming with us."

The lynx blinked slowly. "Where?"

"Shopping," Candace declared. "Then wherever. You're part of our pack now.”

“Shopping where?” Terry repeated.

“Dragon Alley." Nessy said.

"Dragon Alley?” Terry squinted at the dog girl. “A bit too rich for my blood. My bike's scrap, gang's gone... I'm kinda broke as fuck if you didn’t notice."

"Relax, Fluff,” Candace said. “I’m covering it.”

“Fine,” Terry said. “This better not cost me some stupid future favours or whatever.”

She disconnected from the grimy carpet with the air of Adelle and rummaged in her closet, pulling on a black dress. We waited while Terry stuffed some belongings into a backpack.

Once all of us came outside, Candace pulled out her phone. "Pawber time. No way we're getting dis’ many prad girls into the bag comfortably."

Terry turned to Adelle while we waited for the Pawner to arrive. “You visitin’ yo’ fam while you're here?”

“No. Fuck that noise,” Adelle growled, showing cheetah chompers, glancing at the long, uneven row of trailers. “Had enough shitty family drama this mornin’ already.”

“Aight,” Terry shrugged. She yawned again and sniffed Adelle and then her eyes bulged comically. “The fuck.”

She turned, sniffing each of us. “What. The. Fuck.”

She stared at me then. “What’s your secret?”

“Secret?” I arched an eyebrow, already suspecting where the conversation was going.

“How?” She asked. “I understand that Candy and Ads are together and Candy’s a pushy fox and is into you for some stupid reason, but… the raptor and a dog too? Really?”

“Yes,” I rubbed the back of my head, trying not to blush as Candace elbowed me with a sly grin. “Really. We’re all together.”

“You have a deathwish or something?” Terry eyed me.

“What’s the problem exactly?” I asked.

“You don’t just go n’ date four prads, dude,” she said. “I really do not envy you when they all go in Cycle.”

“Ah that,” I said.

“Death by snu-snu!” Candace laughed.

“This some kind of Binder trick?” Terry turned her head to the fox. “How have you managed this?”

“Pancakes!” Candace replied, batting silver eyelashes.

“Pancakes?” Terry blinked. 

Candace nodded with a giddy expression.

“This another stupid meme I'm not aware of? Spill the deets fox,” Terry demanded.

"Pancakes are a memetic for sexy times, yes," Candace boobbed. "And we had plenty."

“Yes, I can smell that quite clearly,” Terry huffed. "How the fuck have you got four prads to agree to share one human?"

“Technically we’re the same soul he divided dimensionally, das’ how,” Candace said.

“Riiiight, not sure what I expected there,” Terry gave up on the loopy fox, turning her head to Adelle.

“What she said,” the cheetah stated bluntly.

“What.” Terry looked at the dog and raptor.

Nessy wagged her tail. "We're soul and blood bonded!"

"I..." Kristi sighed. "It's complicated. Simply put, we all have a connection to Alec that goes beyond normal pack dynamics."

"And you're all cool sharing him?" Terry asked.

"Sharing implies ownership," Nessy said. "We don't own each other. We belong with each other."

"Technically, he's Alpha," Adelle pointed out.

"Yeah, but like, a democratic Alpha," Candace cackled. "Equal opportunity maul-rights for all!" She pretended to maul me from behind.

I rubbed my temples. "Can we please stop discussing our relationship dynamics in the middle of a trailer park?"

"Nope!" Candace grinned. "Terry needs to know what she's signing up for."

"I'm not signing up for anything," Terry protested. "I just want a new bike."

"And you'll get one," I assured her. 

"Yepp. No strings attached,” Candace added.

Terry squinted at the fox. “You better not Bind me to whatever the fuck this is.”

“As hilarious as that would be, alas,” Candace sighed. “You ain’t me. I'd probably chew anyone else’s face off for pawing my man.”

“There's a dog pawing at 'your man' now,” Terry’s look of judgement intensified as she spotted Nessy lightly touching my fingers.

“She's me, so it's fine,” Candace said jovially.

Terry opened and closed her mouth, giving up on the conversation entirely.

The Pawber app on Candace’s phone pinged, indicating our ride was approaching.

A flying black van descended from the sky. The dog driver, a burly mastiff in a cap with a winged star logo, nodded at us as we boarded.

"Dragon Alley, please," Candace said, sliding into a seat on my left. “Scenic route, bank around a bit for my pawmate from the human boonies to gawk at Cascade landing.” She patted my head with a wink.

The mastiff driver grunted affirmation, and we lifted off, leaving the trailer park behind. As we gained altitude, Candace chatted away, explaining to me that Dragon Alley wasn't technically inside Ferguson's barrier but was still part of Feguson township, managed and owned by Strand Co. "There's a direct gate from the city center," she added, "but flying in is way more fun.”

I pressed my face to the window, watching the view. Ferguson river valley stretched out below, the quarry vanishing behind. The river delta descended down the mountains to a massive body of water nestled against jagged cliffs. Sunlight sparkled on the distant waves, and massive, odd, jagged shapes protruded from the water, like the bones of a drowned giant.

“What are those?” I asked.

As the van drifted closer to the water, the jagged shapes resolved themselves into tall, crumbling half-submerged skyscrapers.

"Das’ Lake Eerie," Candace explained, leaning over to point, ‘accidentally’ draping her chest over me. "And those? Ruins of Denver.”

“Denver?” I blinked trying to recall what I read about the abandoned, doomed town in this lifetime on Prad Earth. “Isn't that…”

“The eternally expanding Denver dungeon,” Candace nodded. “This section is pretty much inactive, the lake and the mountains don't allow it to expand any further. It doesn't bloom very well in water or across slanted surfaces, see?”

The curve of her breast squished into the side of my head.

“Dragons love it there.” Nessy added, pointing at distant fluttering shapes circling the half-submerged skyscrapers. “Plenty of fish and abandoned towers to nest in."

One of the sparkly flying creatures dove down, emerging with something clamped in its jaws.

The van banked lower passing between drowned skyscrapers, slowing further for me to spot office interiors within obliterated glass windows covered in barnacle growths. I saw white bones in ragged outfits here and there and an entire mountain of skulls nestled upon by a violet-blue dragon who was licking herself like a cat.

“Who’s skulls are those?” I asked.

“Lawyers,” Candace replied, distractingly pressing her body into me. 

“Lawyers?” I looked up at her.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “A good snack for the dragons. Like I said, the lake weakens them. Cascade’s dragon population keeps them in check.”

71. Dragon Alley

Candace's scent filled my nose, her aggressive chest wiggling beside me mudding my thoughts. 

"Lawyers?" I repeated, struggling to focus on the conversation. "Dragons eat lawyers?"

"Dragons eat anything they can catch,” she said, her elbow resting on my head. “Fish, birds but most of all - lawyers. Denver had tons of law firms back before the dungeon bloom”

I looked down. Water lapped at rusted beams. Mossy vines crawled up concrete walls like green veins forming more dragon nests in various nooks and crannies. Waterfalls poured from lakes within building innards smashing into the waves below. The skyscrapers looked big. Too big, too wide in some parts to be built by human hands.

“Want to enjoy the sadge tale of Denver?” Candace asked.

“Sure,” I nodded. “Would be fun to hear it from a professional Binder’s perspective.”

“Right,” Kristi commented. “Real professional, can’t even keep her paws off our Alpha even for a minute. And here I thought that Nessy was the clingy one.”

“Shush you,” Candace waved the raptor off. “I’m just compensating ‘cus I was raised in a hug-less house!”

Nessy laughed from my right side, her hand entwined with my right hand, claws softly kneading my palm.

“Right then. The tale of the dungeon that sheared a nation! This dungeon started so small,” Candace started on her tale. “Innocuous. Just a law firm in a tiny room on floor 28 with an irregularly thin door. D & D & D Co. Leased on October 8, 1988 according to the submitted paperwork people dug out of the Astral. Their prices were lower than average and they specialized in property rights. It could have been expunged quickly had anyone noticed it back then. Nobody did. The law firm grew, expanded. Acted human, collected clients, paid their taxes. It wasn’t. Soon it took over the entire floor, then the entire skyscraper. Again, nobody noticed it.”

"The Lawyers looked exactly like humans. Wore suits. Drove cars. Had lunch meetings. Pushed paper. Talked about stocks and bonds," Nessy added from my right side. “Rented out more office spaces.”

"But they were actually concept-type dungeon Sentinels," Candace said. “Conceptoids masquerading as people. The dungeon was mimicking humanity in conniving ways. Learning. Studying. It grew quietly for decades. By the time anyone realized something was wrong, it had already consumed most of downtown Denver, infested far too many buildings all over the place."

"The government tried to contain it,” Nessy added. “Evacuated people. Brought in military-grade barriers. None of it worked. The Lawyers had spread out too far, made contracts with far too many people who supported them foolishly. Denver contracts and offices were discovered across twelve states later.”

“They nuked Denver after the evacuation, right?” I recalled.

“Sure did,” Adelle commented. “Didn’t do shit.”

“Cus it was a conceptual infection. Denver just bloomed back out of the glassified desert,” Candace said. “Then it sued the USA government.”

“The government lost,” Adelle commented. “Hilariously enough.”

"How exactly did the government lose a case against a dungeon?" I asked. 

"They used mundane lawyers against high level conceptoid Lawyers," Nessy said. "The dungeon entities had mastered contract law down to an arcane science. The human and prad lawyers never stood a chance in court. Denver didn’t just have Lawyers by then, it had Judges too. It had infested the USA Supreme Court and infiltrated the lower courts, sabotaging decisions on every level."

Terry snorted. "My granddad said people used to make jokes—'when did Denver go to hell?' The answer: 'when the lawyers took over.'"

“Nuking Denver and fighting it in court weren’t functional solutions,” Candace said. “People stopped trusting each other. The Denver Dungeon spread rapidly, sheared continental USA from Arizona To Maine into NUSA and SUSA and then started to fragment it into smaller and smaller independent nations. The Pradavarian Senate must have begged the Omnids for help because overnight lake Erie expanded tenfold into continental-sized lake Eerie and all of Denver-controlled territory ended up underwater. The Denver-controlled Judges and Lawyers rapidly vanished from human and prad territories too, their offices found torn apart and empty in the morning of June 2nd 1989. They claimed it was a massive cooperation effort between Seers, Earth Archmages, Elementals and Hydromancers, but that was obviously false since nobody actually knew any of the mages involved nor could name any names of the people responsible for the operation.”

“It's inactive now, right?” I asked.

“No. Denver isn’t dead,” Nessy said. “It's just… half-asleep, drowned, trying to get back on its feet.”

“Becase of Denver, prads declared all 1980’s architectural style of boxy, tall concrete office buildings illegal,” Kristi said. “All ‘Corporate Modernist’ buildings have been demolished worldwide just in case they were infected with Denver. Since 1989 all law firms and judges have been subjected to weekly checkups by Seers too.”

“Right,” I said, spotting a half-submerged ‘D&D&D Co’ rusted sign occupied by three cat-sized dragons. “So are the local dragons a Systemfall thing or…”

“Cascade was conceptually reinforced by a hell-a-talented Binder Archmage as Ferguson’s forepost to make sure Denver doesn’t get back on its feet here in the Western Reaches,” Candace explained.

“Reinforced how?” I wondered.

“With dragons,” Kristi said.

“Archmage Duphrane Slade bound the concept of dragons to the local Astral,” Candace nodded. “Across about a thousand kilometers of local shoreline. Whenever lawyers bloom in those half-drowned buildings the dragons snack on them. Other Citadel cities have their own defence lines n’ outposts. Cascade has dragons.”

“That's pretty interesting,” I said, watching as a few hundred pigeon-sized silver dragons took off into the sky, spooked from a half-submerged powerline stretching between two towers by our Pawber glider.

“A sandwich of many curious historic layers,” Nessy nodded beside me.

I looked at her. “Did we… make all this?”

Nessy shrugged in reply.

“Technically, yes,” Candace offered. “But also no. You might have successfully reached the end of time. You might have provided a catalyst for change with your wish… but the thing is—the world isn’t a chess match between two players. It’s an ecosystem connected to other Earths via dimensional gates. There are an infinite number of variables involved… and with each dimensional shift… novel problems arise that attempt to consume human civilization. For the most part, various problems swallowed up your wish. The biggest thing you’ve changed is my soul-state. A single soul divided in four is a new, curious variable.”

“I see,” I said.

The Pawber van banked away from the ruins of Denver and descended toward a quaint town on the lake's edge, backed by the mountains. We landed smoothly on a pier, the driver grunting a farewell as we disembarked.

The surrounding buildings evoked 1860s Gothic Revival, all pointed arches and ornate stonework, sporting mossy roofs covered in shifting colors. After a minute of squinting against the sunlight, I realised that the rooftops weren't empty. There were little dragons perched everywhere—crimson ones sunning themselves, emerald serpents coiled around chimneys, azure wyrms napping in clusters. The sizes of the beasts varied, their scales a rainbow riot against the earthy architecture.

“That’s definitely a lot of dragons,” I said. “Are they… dangerous?”

“Only if you’re a Lawyer,” Candace said. “Archmage Slate knew what he was doing. The big ones hunt the submerged towers. Many little ones are bred here and are basically the local wildlife, infrastructure and pets.”

“What keeps them from infesting NUSA?” I wondered.

“They’re a concept bound to a particular location,” Candace said. “If they get far enough from Cascade, they suffer and decay, becoming subject to rapid entropy.”

A tiny dragon about the size of a butterfly fluttered down, landing on my shoulder. Its transparent, rainbowy wings hummed softly, tiny claws pricking my shirt as it settled. 

"Aww, she likes you," Nessy cooed as another landed on her head, then flitted to Kristi's arm, Adelle's tail, and finally Candace's nose.

The little creature on my shoulder chirped, its wings fluttering in the breeze, before taking off again. I watched it go, mesmerized.

Nessy opened a hand and a little fuzzy dragon landed on it, pawing at her pink pad like a miniature kitten.

"Welcome to Dragon Alley, Alex," Candace grinned, linking arms with me. 

. . .

Dragon Alley buzzed with activity - pradavarians shopping, tourists gawking, and tiny dragons zipping through the air like living confetti.

"What's first on our shopping agenda?" I asked, dodging a cat-sized crimson dragon that swooped low over our heads.

"Clothes for Terry for sure," Candace declared, eyeing the lynx’s wrinkled dress. "Then whatever catches our fancy."

"I need a coffee first," Terry groaned, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. "My head feels like someone's using it for drum practice."

"Bubble tea would help your hangover better," Nessy suggested, pointing to a quaint storefront ahead. A sign reading "Bubble Dragon Tea" swung gently above the door, a tiny azure dragon perched on each corner.

"Fine, whatever," Terry mumbled. “Let's go.”

We entered the shop, a bell tinkling above us. The interior was cozy and quirky featuring worn wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and dragons everywhere. Most were tiny, flitting between sugar dispensers or nestled in potted plants.

"Check this out," Nessy tugged my arm, directing my attention to a corner of the shop.

A sturdy glass tank housed a rotund dragon about the size of a golden retriever. Its scales shimmered deep purple in the sunlight streaming through the windows. The tank contained large metal cylinders - tea shakers. The dragon lazily batted at them with its tail, setting them spinning at high speed.

"That's Bubbles," the raccoon barista called over. "Our professional tea shaker. Been with us eight years now."

The dragon noticed our attention and puffed its chest proudly before returning to its work, spinning three shakers simultaneously.

"Want tapioca in your tea?" Kristi asked me as we approached the counter.

"Yes please," I replied, staring at the tea-shaking dragon.

I glanced up at the ceiling. There, instead of regular lightbulbs, tiny glass spheres contained minuscule glowing dragons. Each one pulsed with soft light, colors ranging from blue to green to amber.

"Living lights," Candace explained, following my stare. "Basically, dragons, temporarily bound to the concept of light."

We placed our orders and waited at the counter. The barista opened a small fridge behind her to grab ice, revealing a long, serpentine dragon coiled inside. It glared our way and released a huff of cold air from its mouth.

“Dragon bound to the concept of cold?” I wondered.

“Yepperoni,” Candace nodded. “You’re getting the picture. They start small with barely any affinity, so even a low level Binder can bind them to do a particular job.”

We found a table by the window where a patch of sunlight had attracted a cluster of fingernail-sized dragons napping in a pile.

Our drinks arrived, dropping onto our table in a basket carried by a cat-sized dragon. They were vibrant, colorful concoctions with tapioca pearls at the bottom. 

“Pretty neat, yeah?” Nessy asked, chewing on her plastic straw.

“Definitely whimsical as hell,” I nodded, eyeing the stirring pile of dragons in the sun beam. “Why don’t binders do this in more cities?”

Candace set her cup down and leaned forward. "Because Dragon Alley isn't what it looks. Sure, conceptual dragons are cute and useful. They do basic misc jobs. But there's a cost."

"What cost?" I asked.

"Archmage Slade did try to expand it further. He aimed to make dragons bloom across the entire shoreline. The problem is—these dragons hate paperwork. The moment you try to regulate them or slap legal constraints on anything nearby, they notice. They attack permits. They shred contracts. They dive-bomb bureaucrats and judges,” Candace explained.

I raised an eyebrow. "They rebel against paperwork?"

"Yep! Legal jargon feels slimy to them. Full of traps and loopholes. So they torch it. Or eat it. Or use it as nesting material. The older they get, the more their affinity skews towards hostiling Lawyers or anything Lawyer-related. Cascade basically does all of its lawyering business in Ferguson. It’s not a legal city on paper. Technically—it doesn’t even exist on a map. Any Lawyer or a Judge shopping here must wear an overpriced collar that conceals, nullifies their job status and skills.”

Terry nodded from across the table. "My cousin tried to smuggle a clutch of eggs to Iona once. Thought he could sell them as exotic pets. The hatchlings ate his wallet first. By the time he got home, they had shredded every document in his house. Bank statements. Birth certificate. Even his divorce papers. Then they vanished.”

“Probably just winked back home to Cascade,” Candace explained. “Like I said, they don’t like being too far from here.”

I chortled into my bubble tea.

"Another problem is,” Kristi added, “not every binder plays nice in Cascade. Some gangs set up cabins in the mountains n’ screw with the newborn dragons, make them aligned to specific curses, death, Topaz or other horrid shit. They get caught, eventually, thanks to the Seers, but it still leaves a mess for the Rangers to clean up.”

“So like if a dragon is aligned to work as a lightbulb,” I said. “How exactly does it… uhhh…” I tried to explain my reasoning. “Do other dragon things? Or does it not need food and sleep, being conceptual?”

“Ah,” Candace said. “The little dragon serves as a lightbulb for about eight hours on a particular shift set up by a binding rune, then it winks into the Astral and goes home. See how some of the bulbs are empty? Those dragons are chilling out at home now.”

“Home?” I repeated incredulously. “Which is where?”

“Wherever it has a nest in the Ruins of Denver,” Candace shrugged. “Where it noms newborn Lawyers and gets to spend time with other dragons.”