“Welcome to the Dragon’s Lair.” came the snide voice of Nathaniel Draco, politician utterly poised in his demeanor as the trio stood slack-jawed.
Steele took a long drag off his cigarette. “Don’t tell me I ran down a clone.”
“No, that hurt.” smirked the statesman, dusting his shoulders. “It just didn’t kill.”
“Any cute speeches you care to share?” a now-intrigued Lita asked, fixing her jean jacket.
“Let’s pop back into the office.” The Drake held a fine pistol in his gray-furred mitts as he ushered everyone back into Lucille’s room. Once all were seated, he got real cute about things. “Well, well, well, three revolutionaries sitting in a row. What to do with them all?” He kicked the door close, the bang echoing through the silent halls of the lit-up building.
“So you got all this alternator tech from the Queen Bee, huh?” Lita probed.
“I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.” Draco sighed. He threw his jacket off his shoulders, taking care to keep the gun trained on his captive audience. “Not a thing has changed here. I’ve just taken it all over. And anyone who didn’t take care to heed me…well, I think you can fill in all those little blank details.”
Devenreux could only scowl. “What possessed you to do something so miserable as this?”
