The Finer Things in Life

Las Vegas, World Creature Wars Monday Fitro

"The world outside of Gensokyo sure is strange," Parsee Mizuhashi thought to herself as she walked through the crowded arena.

In the months since accepting Gentleman Draco's invitation to be his apprentice, Parsee had gotten to experience all sorts of human things that she'd only heard about. Television, fast food, bungee jumping...there were so many things and she'd gotten to try each one of them! She'd learned so much too, such as negotiation and how to negotiate with strength when you had none. Now she found herself in a noisy arena full of screaming fans, each one screaming his or her lungs out in anticipation of seeing their favorite creature, such as Rodaniel Bryan or The Arocknid or some other strange-sounding thing, beat another weird creature to a pulp. Draco had sent her the ticket and told her to come up to a particular private box before matches began.

"Suite 13b," the ticket had written on it. Parsee knocked twice and the door opened.


"...and then I put up a sign saying 'No Active Volcanoes,'"

Parsee found her mentor speaking to a group of well-dressed humanoids: a dark-feathered bird man, a  human in dark, heavy armor, and a robot of some sort. Kobold servants, shorter than the lizardman by far, stood nearby with drinks and snacks if summoned. Parsee coughed lightly, causing one of Draco's eyes to turn towards her.

"Miss Mizuhashi, please come in," Draco said congenially. "I was just speaking to some business associates of mine. Baron Kobsworthington the Third, Zett the Black Knight, Nu Alex, meet my new apprentice, Parsee Mizuhashi. She's gracefully offered to help me gain a foothold in this city."

The crow and lizard bowed politely.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mizuhashi," Nu Alex said, extending a robotic hand. "As a former student of Mr. Draco's, you must be quite formidable to have gained his attention."

"Oh, th-thank you," Parsee replied, unused to compliments. "I'm just a gatekeeper. I'm not THAT special."

"She's quite modest, as you can see," Draco chuckled. "I'll cure her of that soon enough."

Even Parsee laughed nervously at that as she took a seat on the suite's balcony. The fans waved signs and screamed their hearts out as the first match began: a whirlwind full of ogres named the Shreknado battling a pelican that pulled assault weapons from its beak named the Scooper Trooper. Bullets and rockets were flying everywhere, deflected into the crowd by Shreknado's whirlwind.

"It's not the same as good ol' Zoofights, but Mr. Rex does know how to put on a good show," Draco grudgingly admitted, politely applauding as Scooper Trooper was being peeled like an onion in a hurricane.

"Um...pardon my asking, Mr. Draco..."

"Ask away, my dear. I didn't invite you here to show you off like a trophy."

"Yes, that's what I was getting to: why DID you invite me here?" Parsee asked.

"An excellent question. I wanted to show you something. This event, this arena, this show...this is our enemy in this city," Draco answered, motioning to the WCW crowd. "Every time we want to succeed, he wants us to fail. I have no doubt Rex knows that I have come here; with the Zoofights Corporation's intention of opening a casino resort, he must know that Kobbers will flock here like crows. No offense, Baron."

"None taken," the Tengu muttered, watching the next match begin.

"But you told me that we need competition," Parsee protested. "Why is he our enemy?"

"A competitor and an enemy are similar: they both want the same thing we want," Draco began explaining. "A competitor will puff up his plumage like a peacock, put up a fine display and improve his product in order to attract attention. An enemy will also put on a display to attract attention as well, but he seeks to misdirect OUR attention while planning to destroy us. Thus, we must destroy our enemies even as we seek to impress and outwit our competitors."

Parsee tried to take it all in, to look at it from a variety of perspectives. She'd likely have a "EUREKA" moment later and put the thought aside for now. "Then why are we here at his event, giving him money to enjoy his product?"

"Like I said, misdirection. He'll know I'm here, I'll put on a good show of being awed by a return to exciting creature fights, and I may even pay him a visit to congratulate him on reviving the ailing WCW," Draco continued with a toothy smirk. "He won't see you though; compared to people like Utsuho Reiuji and Tenshi Hinanawi, you're unknown. You can begin an operation without him suspecting ties to me or the Kobbers."

Parsee's eyes flashed green and jealousy boiled within her. Seeing this, Draco frowned. "Control your temper, apprentice. Business contacts will say things like that to control you, to manipulate you to their advantage. You have that power too though."

"Do YOU say such things to me to manipulate me?"

Draco grinned once more. "Of course. How else are you going to learn?"

For a moment, Parsee gaped with surprise. Fortunately for her, a new match was beginning between a shape-shifting crustacean named Blobster and a bloodthirsty bird named Swanton Slaughter.

The Final Frontiers - Ocard: It's not you, it's...wait, yes, it is you

Year 2405, Unidentified system in the Gorn Hegemony

"Will this prattle never end?" Ocard thought to himself, idly tapping on his command chair.

Although his vessel was the only ship of Cardassian make at the meeting, Ocard's Badi Dea was just one of many independent vessels, most of which were Gorn vessels that had fled during the Klingon Empire's invasion, that had been assembled for what had been billed as "a major undertaking in the history of the Gorn," which he'd translated as "opportunity to make lots of money while others took bigger risks" and was slowly coming to realize to have meant "I hate Klingons and I want you to go shoot them for free."


Ocard had been the majority of his life outside of the modern Gorn Hegemony. He'd been born in a system the Gorn traditionally claimed but didn't own at the time, his career as a slave/raider had occurred mainly in Romulan space, and he'd never actually seen the "glorious jewel" of the racial homeworld, Gornar. His current location was as close as he'd gotten to Gornar and he was slowly finding less and less to be interested in.

He muted his own transmitter. "This is a waste of time. There's no profit in fighting a revolution that's doomed before it's even begun."

Chief Engineer Mulea snorted and looked up from monitoring the other vessels. "Nobody joins a revolution to make money. Freedom fighters are expected to be free, dumb fighters."

Ocard chortled. The Orion woman's quips were as precisely-tuned as impulse engines she gushed over. For the latest time, the Gorn pirate considered himself lucky to have her on his crew. He continued listening to the speaker, some Gorn general who'd been sensible enough to warp his Balaur dreadnought away from Gorn space the moment the KDF approached the border in force, go on and on about how it was the duty of each captain and his crew to help overthrow the obviously-useless royal family and expel the Klingons from the Hegemony while they were distracted with their war with the Federation. A stirring speech, Ocard supposed based on how many other captains were cheering for their host.

"Helmsman, turn us about and set course for Alhena," Ocard ordered. "We need to top off our tanks and I hear they just got a fresh load of Deuterium in."

The helmsman, a fellow Gorn, hesitated before standing up. "Sir, this meeting is important for our race! We need to be a part of this!"

Ocard wondered if he should kill the helmsman for insubordination, but stood before his claws scratched his chair. He calmly stepped forward, placed his hands on the shorter Gorn's shoulders, and looked him in the eye.

"This resistance is doomed to fail, sailor," Ocard stated, looking him in the eye. "You've got a cowardly general trying to rally other cowards, desperate fools, and beings like us who have never even seen Gornar into fighting a bunch of war-mongering savages when even the legitimate ruler has accepted Klingon oversight. There's no profit for us, so I say we get back to what will actually benefit us."

The helmsman, struggling not to be intimidated, took a step back. "Then I respectfully resign my post and wish to be beamed to the surface."

Ocard nodded. Crew members jumped ship frequently when they felt they were rich enough or because they were spies who needed to report to their masters. "Then go talk to the purser, get your take, and get off my ship. In fact..."

Ocard stood up and straight and switched on the shipwide conn. "Attention, crewmembers. I understand that this event has significant personal interest for many of you. I, however, see no reason to become involved in this Gorn Revolution. Any crew members - not just Gorn - who wishes to be a part of this resistance movement is free to collect his due and find passage aboard another vessel. You all have an hour to make your arrangement and get out."

Over the course of the hour, power consumption indicated that 35 crew members, mostly Gorns, had jumped ship. Ocard wished them well, but did not expect most of them to see 2406. Maybe not even the second half of 2405.

"I'm rather surprised none of you jumped ship," Ocard remarked to his bridge crew as the Badi Dea left the meeting.

Talash, Rlim, and Gthath had immediately come to the bridge following Ocard's declaration, reporting on the ones most likely to leave. Who was gone didn't matter though; only who stayed behind.

"Eh...we feel about the same as you do, sir," Gthath said with a shrug. "Gornar never wanted the best for us, so why should we care about it?"

"You'd never make it without us anyway," Rlim added. "I doubt you can even drive a hovercar, let alone a starship."

"And I'm still waiting to get a gold-plated falchion," Talash gave as his reason to stay.

"Good enough for me." Ocard turned to his Orion chief engineer. "Anything you'd like to add?"

"Only that I'm glad you didn't break one of my consoles with poor S'thar's face," Mulea answered. "Or I'd be taking the repairs out of your Risa fund."

Ocard snorted at the thought of actually taking a vacation to the resort world deep in Federation space.

"Alright, alright, union break's over," Ocard growled melodramatically. "Now get us to Alhena's fuel pumps or you're all getting out to push."

The Final Frontiers - Ocard: If I have to shoot twice...

Year 2402, Traelus System

It was during intense negotiations with his quarries that Ocard preferred to fire the Badi Dea's primary weapon personally. He relished the minute he took to decide upon a target every time he was forced to fire a disabling shot. Normally, blasting a ship's engines - the starship equivalent to kneecapping a sentient - was his preferred method of disabling a vessel, but once in a while whim or wrath suggested he blast the bridge to instantly disable it. He typically refrained from being wrathful though; he'd been careful to build up a reputation for granting mercy to cooperative crews and for not completely emptying a vessel's cargo holds unless provoked.

This time, however, he held off. The freighter in his sights scanned as hauling explosives to a mining colony as well as medicines, foodstuffs, and machines. Normally not a group of items he'd want to steal, but he'd been hired by a Ferengi - and paid 15% in advance - to interdict this particular ship. Insurance fraud, neutering a rival operation, or just wanting discount supplies...there could have been any number of reasons for this attack that didn't matter to Ocard. All he cared about was getting the full amount for getting the machines.

"Happy Trails, this is Gentleman Ocard of the independent vessel Badi Dea. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and demand your unconditional surrender," he broadcast, idly tapping around the trigger.

The Toffli-class freighter began to heave to port, away from the Galor-class cruiser menacing it. The captain obviously hoped to make for open space, but Ocard's trigger finger had an itch to scratch, sending a powerful disruptor beam into the freighter's engines.

"Happy Trails, I commend your daring and unwillingness to surrender. I will forgive you making me have to shoot at you once," Ocard transmitted. "If I have to shoot twice though...well...the results would NOT be gentlemanly. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider your position?"

The freighter, already slowed immensely by the loss of its primary engines, came to a complete stop. Ocard quietly signaled Gthath to prepare their boarding shuttles for launch and waited for the freighter captain to reply.

"This is Captain Pisko of the Happy Trails," a gruff, human voice stated. "If we cooperate, will you guarantee the safety of my crew?"

"Captain Pisko, I will guarantee your safety as long as you guarantee mine," Ocard answered. "Give my slicers access to your computer systems and load up the cargo they tell you into our shuttles, then you shall be left alive to limp to the nearest starbase or shipyard.

The cruiser turned to show its side to the freighter. Immediately, four banks of disruptors locked onto the freighter.

"I would, however, consider any ungentlemanly conduct on the part of your crew a personal offense, however, and you don't want me to feel offended," Ocard hissed. "Understood?"

"C-completely, sir," Captain Pisko gulped. "We'll ready our airlocks."

"Excellent! My representatives shall be over shortly," Ocard said before cutting the channel. "Gthath, launch the shuttles. Put on a show of slicing into their computers, but don't take too much time. We're on a schedule."

"Aye, sir," the Gorn engineer answered. "You sure you don't want Talash to set a timer on those explosives?"

"Only if they refuse to cooperate. Even then, I might say to put an auto-pilot on the ship and let it finish its run without its crew," Ocard confirmed. "Shear the sheep and they'll keep lining up for us. Slaughter the sheep and they'll warn the shepherd."

"As you wish. Shuttles are prepped and launching."

A minute later, a trio of trooper-laden shuttles crossed the distance between the two ships. The captain's chair creaked as Ocard leaned back. It had only been two years since he'd become the master of his own fate and it felt splendid.

The Final Frontiers: Ocard

Space...the final frontier...a frontier that, once you reach its limit, never fails to find new ways to grow...

These are the voyages of two captains upon whom Fortune has looked upon. Whether she smiled or frowned would depend on your point of view, but however you look at them, their lives were drastically changed by a single event.

Year 2400, Drozana Station, Donatu Sector

Many run-down casinos were described as hazy, filled to the brim with sin and disorder, seams bursting with greed. On Drozana, an aging space station, these things were often literally occurring. A life support system unable to cope with all the sentients packed into it. Gambling, prostitution, slave trading, and more occurring in every possible corridor until it looked like a space-faring slum. Ancient welds done to remedy the effects of drunken brawls slowly coming undone and letting the atmosphere bleed off into space.


"By S'Yahazah, I almost wish all the air WOULD leak out," Ocard, a hulking reptilian Gorn pirate, thought to himself as he was dealt a hand of cards.

His captain was off getting hitched to some Orion female, leaving his crew to mull about the station for a week or a month or however long it took for him to grow bored, dissolve the probably-illegitimate union, and go find some more Federation shipping to loot in order to expand his fortune. How Ocard hated that man, a tiny VULCAN of all things acting more like a Romulan, and his ship, a cast-off Bird of Prey that probably had been in service since the Klingons started selling ships to the Romulan Star Empire. Most of all, he hated the series of events that led to him crewing aboard the vessel and its too-low ceilings and too-high mortality rate. Thus, he found himself with all his meager wealth plus some quietly appropriated from the captain's vault in a high-stakes game of Tongo with another seven sentients. A Nausicaan, a Romulan, a Cardassian, and members of other races Ocard didn't know, all gathered around the table for one purpose in mind: fleece the others of everything they'd brought with them.

The hunter in Ocard knew who his prey was though: the Cardassian who happened to be in possession of a starship, a Galor-class cruiser that the ridge-headed cretin had boasted about stealing from the current regime. If Ocard could deprive the man and their other competitors of their funds, he could force the man into a situation where he would, goaded by the copious amounts of Saurian and Romulan Ale, be obliged to put his ship up for grabs. And if he took the loss badly, well, he'd soon find out what it was like on the receiving end of a Ferengi energy whip.

Somehow, Ocard's luck held true. He'd confronted, evaded, bought in, sold out, and indexed exactly as he'd needed to in order to remove the competition one by one. He had to admit it was luck; he preferred games where he didn't NEED luck, just brute force. It was just him and the Cardassian though with a crowd of onlookers watching with interest. Hopefully Ocard's own allies were among them.

The resulting hands greatly resembled a fencing match though: both players gave ground, bet aggressively, feinted with their cards, and never flinched. Finally, the dice turned decisively in Ocard's favor, giving him all the chips in the game. He almost didn't need to fleece this captain; the amount of Latinum he now had could buy him a decommissioned light cruiser or an old warbird. He began sweeping up his chips when the hoped-for happened: the Cardassian put a hand forcfully and slovenly upon the Gorn's winnings.

"Friend Gorn, you must allow me one more chance to win, I plead of you," the captain asked with a slur. "I am certain I have not gotten my break yet."

"All the more reason for me to quit now," Ocard hissed. "While Fortune still smiles upon me."

"Ah, but what if it were a prize no money could buy?"

Ocard almost chuckled. "There are not many things this much latinum could buy."

"I wish to make one more wager with you, and I shall make a wager you cannot ignore." The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a hologram that he had shown frequently that evening. "My ship, the cruiser Fallar, against all of your winnings."

The pirate stroked his chin thoughtfully and with exaggeration. "Well, I suppose I could go for one more hand. What could go wrong?"

Many voices in the crowd snickered at that while another hand was dealt. The two players gazed at each other and then at their cards as the last hand was dealt. This was undoubtedly the Tango match of the night, with both players bringing their most forceful strategies into play. Ocard leveraged his buy-in, the Cardassian indexed his exchange, both players confronted and evading, but neither would retreat. A final roll of the die would determine the outcome of this fierce battle.

The Cardassian grinned, showing his cards. "Full Consortium," he drawled. The second-strongest hand in the game bared its teeth.

But so did Ocard. "An excellent hand, but unfortunately..." He laid down his cards. "I believe my Total Monopoly has the upper hand."

Side-bets were resolved and shouts of alternating glee and disappointing echoed across the table. The Cardassian briefly looked like he was going to draw a weapon before remembering the energy dampener that disabled all weapons.

All energy weapons at least, Ocard thought as he raised the hilt of his Tsunkatse Falchion into sight. "Can't disable a good, sharp edge." He gathered his winnings along with evidence of the ship ownership transfer and set off to the station's dock, but he could tell he was being followed. A second and then a third set of footsteps fell in behind him, cause for concern until one voice rasped "So do you plan to return the captain's money now?"

Ocard turned and grinned, looking down at a trio of shorter Gorn; members of his assault team, Talash, Rlim, and Gthath. Each watched their squad leader now as intently as they had watched the crowd for signs of interference.

"I suppose I should repay my loan," Ocard sighed. "Although I'll probably need the rest to refit my new starship. And find crew for it of course."

Talash, who had spoken before, snorted. "If you weren't so dead set on 'earning' your ship, we would have helped you mutiny ages ago."

"For a share of that latinum and a chance to tell Captain Logical Illogic where to stuff his philosophy, I suppose we could join you," Rlim added.

The four Gorn chortled over their change in fortunes when another voice added. "So what does it take to get on your new crew?"

An Orion female, not quite as lithe as the companions many sentients expected her race to be, walked down the corridor, wiping her hands on a set of worn coveralls.

"Can you do anything besides look pretty?" Ocard asked, half-sarcastically.

"Name's Mulea, I'm a trained engineer," the Orion said. "I've helped take apart dozens of ships and put them back together sans a few important parts."

"I've got an engineer," Ocard shot back. "Gthath has quite a bit of experience himself."

"As a combat engineer, perhaps," Mulea shrugged. "He might be able to get into a ship and know enough to fix a lot of the electronics, but does he know how to balance a warp core's power levels? Probably not since you don't usually want to fuss with those when boarding a freighter."

"She's got me there," Gthath agreed. "But if you know so much, how do you rewire a torpedo launcher for a full spread?"

"Easy enough." Mulea rattled off a list of engineering procedures, tactical command inputs, and physical modifications.

"If you know so much, why aren't you already engineer aboard some starship?" Ocard asked, knowing the answer already but wanting to hear it anyway.

Mulea spat on the deck. "Because as you pointed out earlier, who expects intelligence from Orion females unless they're Melani D'ian? Most captains assume I'm just a trained primate, mimicking 'actual' engineers. Pah!"

Ocard nodded, pleased. Anyone could fake outrage, but she spoke with such passion and indignation. "Very well. You're hired. Follow me."

Within the hour, the five had formally taken possession, bullying their way onto the cruiser and slowly giving any Cardassian who didn't accept the new chain of command the boot. All in all, the crew was at 30 individuals.

"So what name are you giving your wondrous new command?" Talash asked.

Ocard say in the command chair for a moment and mulled it over. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest."

Rlim massaged the tip of his snout and shook his head. "You planned to just take off into the stars and you didn't even think of a name in advance? Oh, I knew this was a bad idea."

Hmm...a bad idea? Bad idea. It had a ring to it. But one had to be at least a little subtle when a ship's name, a little cute.

"You're right. It was a bad idea. Or should I say, THE bad idea? Gentleman, I christen this ship the Badi Dea!"

A round of groans and chuckles heralded in this new age of piracy and tyranny. Heads shook until Mulea, having spent the last few minutes examining engineering records, asked "Since this is a Cardassian ship, does that make you a Gul?"

"Pfft. I suppose it does," Ocard agreed. "But I had a better title in mind: Gentleman."

"Gentleman Ocard?" Gthath repeated. "Sounds Terran."

"Yes, well, now we're all businessmen, yes? And as businessmen, we shall also behave as Gentlemen."

"At least," Ocard appended. "Until our...hmm...business associates give us reason to behave otherwise."

Non-Canon DLC Edit:

And then Ocard's best friend Lando Calrissian entered the bridge.

"Ocard old buddy, I don't know how you managed to win this one without me!" Lando beamed. "Oh wait, you didn't!"

Ocard nodded as a Wookiee walked by. "I could've never done it without your amazing tips and gimmicked cards, Lando. You are the best card player in the galaxy."

"I'd say you're flattering me," Lando began. "But I know it's true. This is good bye though, old friend. I found a new galaxy, so I'm taking a Defiant-class ship, renaming it the Millennium Falcon, and going to the new galaxy to become the galaxy's greatest Sabaac player."

"You are too cool for us, Lando," Ocard gushed. "Go and remake that universe in your own image."

And thus Star Wars was born.

You're Fired...er...Hired

Floor B666, Underground Dungeon, Gensokyo

Guarding the bridge to the underworld was a quiet job. A boring job. A lonely job. Not many beings wanted to travel between worlds and it was Parsee Mizuhashi's job as guardian to keep people from traveling the bridge to the Former Capital. Once in a while, humans would come down to investigate earthquakes or look for hot springs, Kisume and Yamame would come by to visit. Most of the time though, there was nothing for the blonde Youkai to do but keep watch and play her flute.


She was in the middle of practicing a tune called "Flight of the Bumblebee" when the ground began to shake. Not a problem for a being who could fly, she thought as she began hovering above the ground. She continued her practice until, as bits of gravel fell from the ceiling, that the rumbles were growing more intense. That was more of a concern; it usually meant someone was trying to leave. She spun around, ready to fire blinding waves of energy when she saw that the approaching figure wasn't a demon, a Youkai, a human, or anything she'd ever seen during her guardianship of the bridge. It was large, winged, scaly, ugly, and it was also wearing some strange round lens over one eye with an even-stranger hat.

"Halt! Who goes there! Turn back now!" she ordered. "You can't leave."

The beast grinned at her, showing a mouth full of teeth as big as she was. She tried not to gulp too loudly, but held her ground.

"Madam, I snuck past you with so much ease on my way in," the creature said. "You're fortunately that I chose to reveal myself on my way out instead of just sneaking by or, worse, stepping on you."

Such condescension...Parsee's blood began to boil. Everyone who came her way looked down on her. Powerful demons who had permission to come and go, bothersome humans who felt they could just blast their way in, and now this stupid reptile. She raised her flute and began to play a tune she'd written, Green-Eyed Monster, as she manifested flowers made of energy around her.

The petal-like blasts left trails of glowing power as they wrapped around Parsee's new enemy, easily slipping around the creature's neck and wings before constricting. Yet the chains could not break the creature. Parsee changed the tune, firing a staggering rapid-fire stream of energy balls as she teleported around, hitting from all sides.

It yawned.

The guardian growled and prepared to change tactics again when a massive foot came down, pinning her to the ground.

"Is this your reaction to everyone?" the beast asked. "It's spirited, I'll grant you that, but compared to the likes of Arcturus Mengsk, the Society, the Deck, and a roly-poly White Mage you've got a lot of work ahead of you if you wish to destroy the likes of Gentleman Draco."

Parsee struggled to get up, spitting and cussing as she went. She HATED HATED HATED being treated like this! She deserved better! She...she...

"You've got power to be sure, but you waste it sitting down here," Gentleman Draco said. "You spend all your time down here, guarding this bridge, and you get no respect for it. You probably hear tales of other inhabitants of this area going out into the world and doing amazing things."

"What of it?" Parsee growled, feeling like she almost had an arm free.

"I just think it's a shame you have yet to try and actually obtain prestige for yourself. If you truly want to get out of here and do things, earn the respect you crave, accumulate wealth to make other envious of you, come with me and I will teach you the ways of Greed," Draco offered. "Or you can stay here in your pit, guarding your bridge, and getting ignored the rest of your life."

It was such an offer that Parsee ceased her struggling. Leave her post? Leave her BRIDGE?! In exchange for a chance to become great, famous, and more? Dueling fear and desire made her tremble. The dragon looked down with that big grin once more and took a step back.

"What would I need to do?" Parsee asked. "How long will it take?"

"As long as it takes and everything I ask of you," Draco answered. "No more, no less. But if you do as I instruct, you shall have all that you desire and more."

Once the corners of her mouth began to twitch upward, Draco knew she was hooked. "Even what you have?" she asked.

"If you learn everything I know and master it beyond my abilities, there is nobody who can stop you from having what is yours."

"And where can I learn this?" Parsee asked, hovering to look her new mentor in the eye.

"As the humans say, Vegas, baby! Vegas!"

A Gentleman's Duel

It was to be a contest between gentlemen, a duel between aggrieved sophisticates, a battle between two businessmen of renown who found a wedge driven between them. Unlike many such contests, this one was being fought by a pair of exceptionally-large competitors, one a griffin, the robber-baron Griff N, and the other the widely-known Gentleman Draco. Both stood in the center of the beautifully-decorated halls clad in their finest accoutrements and turned their gazes upon the other creature’s soul.

“Pardon me, page, but I was told I would be facing someone in the Circle of Equals today,” Draco said, beginning the duel. “be a good lad and fetch him.”

“Sadly, sir, that is impossible,” Griff countered. “We scoured every gutter and trash bin in the city and could find none of your caliber, so they sent one of your betters – myself – as a sign of pity.”

Though both competitors grinned, Draco seethed. Rarely was the first exchange not in his favor. Still, no need to let his heckles rise just yet.

“Pity, you say? Indeed, they knew I’d be hungry upon arrival and had a meal waiting for me! I’m not normally expected to fry my own chicken though.”

The griffon bristled a little before smiling. “The only thing you shall be eating will be your own words.”

“You’re absolutely right. I try not to eat junk food if I can help it.”

“That’s not what your midsection-“ Griff angrily countered.

“Oh, we’re resorting to fat jokes, are we?” Draco interrupted. “What other sorts of puerile humor are we going to descend to? Yo Mamma jokes? Knock knock jokes?”

The dragon smiled with predatory humor as Griff began to choke down a furious squawk.

“But if you insist…knock knock.”

Griff glared ferociously, but said “Who’s there?” anyway.

“Griff.”

“Griff who?”

“Some nobody whose biggest business was in a litter box,” Draco answered, dripping with cheer.

For a moment, Griff squatted like he was about to pounce, which would have made the day suddenly fun and excited, but at the last moment the griffon rose again with a forced chuckle.

“Just like a lizard to make a simple exchange drag on,” he spat.

“Oh, we’ve gone to punning! I love puns!” Draco beamed. “Although if you think you’re up to my level, you’re ‘kitten’ yourself.”

That caused quite the victory, however brief, as Griff flinched and stepped back. Weakness confirmed, thought Draco. Time to push.

“Why the long ‘paws’, Griff? Not feeling so catty anymore?” Draco growled, stepping forward.

Before Griff could squawk a response, Draco slammed his foot down. “If you’re planning to make a fee-line to the door, ‘meow’s the time! So stop pussy-footing around or else I’m putting this purr-fect waste of my time on your tab-by!”

With each pun, Draco stomped forward forcing the griffon into a corner. The pathetic excuse for a predator even had his back arched like a little housecat.

“For once though, you’re not the cat in something,” Draco concede. “In this game of cat-and-mouse, you’re definitely THE MOUSE.”

With that last insult, it seemed that Griff had finally hit his limit. He’d been backed into a corner – literally – and there was no way out except through Draco, an opportunity the business dragon had been waiting. With a cross between a roar and a hawk-like shriek, Griff leaped forward, claws swiping. Without so much as disturbing his top hat though, Draco stepped to the side and brought the blunt end of his tail down on Griff’s back.

“In all sincerity though, this has been an enjoyable afternoon,” Draco said, all courtesy and pleasantry once more. “If you ever want another lesson in pain and suffering, please look me up.”

I Never Met a Roid I Didn't Like

July 2014

"If you'll pardon my saying, sir, but mammoths are about to go extinct again."

Draco, draconic CEO and overlord of the wealthy and predatorial Dra Co, didn't mind the pun. He didn't mind the scientist bringing him bad news. He also didn't mind that everyone in the facility he was visiting was a mammal. No, what really galled the self-proclaimed gentleman was that there really wasn't a good solution for the current issue.

For years, Dra Co had been plucking genetic tissue from one frozen, impeccably-preserved specimen of a baby mammoth Draco had won betting on Zoofights. Miniature pets, fur coats, steaks, ivory, leather...there was a great deal of money to be made by cloning the mammoths thousands of times. Unfortunately, that source of income was drying up.

"Continue," was all the response he could make.

"At our current rate of production and the current quality of mammoth we've been cloning, we only have enough genetic material for one more batch of mammoths," the scientist reported. "If we want to keep production going in 2015, we have to begin introducing the DNA of compatible species to the mix. The results won't be 100% mammoth but..."

"But nothing!" Draco suddenly roared. "We advertise pure mammoth and we will make pure mammoth! Anything less than pure and we have to include disclaimers, pay fees, levy bribes, and so on."

Everyone in the room had gone silent. Draco towered over all of his employees and liked it. He owed the company completely and would brook no possible rival within HIS organization. All the scientists and advisors and businessmen hung on his every word.

"We will continue to produce pure mammoths for the rest of the year," Draco announced. "Nix the pet line in favor of beasts we can slaughter for meat, pelts, and ivory. Raise prices by...oh...10% now, an additional 10% next month, and return to the current prices when we get to the last month of the Star Festival. We'll funnel the increased revenue into new research and investments on Porphyrion."

The horde of Yes Men and Egg Heads and other generically-branded personnel scurried about to carry out their orders, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts. He shrugged off a feeling of nostalgia for the old Zoofights days as he activated his personal computer, a Crayfish machine customized for him to comfortably use, to begin researching new avenues. Plenty of Kobber-related shenanigans to profit from: destroyed villages to rebuild, Razaan Redscales' pirates to inform, and more.

One interesting piece of material caught his eye though: Space Pirates.

That bounty hunter reminded the dragon all-too-much of the sort of wandering murder hobo that he frequently contended with in his youth and he'd gone to efforts to avoid being around her. Her adversaries were on the planet though and Scuttlebutt had it that they were building more of their elaborate underground labyrinths. A few more inquiries showed a common theme to their operations: a species of jellyfish-like predators that carried great deals of energy within their bodies. Easily replicated, intelligent enough to be tamed, and possessing a unique natural ability that could be turned to industrial use.

The cost of refurbishing the cloning materials to make Metroids instead of Mammoths would be considerably less than building new production facilities for something else. He jotted down some notes, sent orders to his Shadowrunners, and checked his schedule for the rest of the day: nothing to do but have a nice evening back at home.

Speaking of which...

He quickly called home. The sweet tones of his mate's voice after a long day of work would be music to his ears.

A loud guttural roared answered the phone. Like an angel, Draco thought as he swooned.

"Hello, Chaz," Fergie said after composing herself. "How's the office?"

"We're running out of mammoths, I'm told," Draco answered.

"Roast anyone for this outrage?" his mate said sardonically.

"I'm getting soft in my old age. I let them off with 50 lashes."

"Poor boy...so tortured, having to let your staff live," Fergie giggled un-dragonly. "On your way home, can you pick up a few beasts? I'm starved."

"Of course, my love," Draco agreed. "Another five as usual?"

"Better make it ten."

Which meant fifteen, Draco thought. She'd need to protein while another brood grew inside. More mouths to eventually feed, more impressionable hatchlings to teach the ways of the world to.

Draco grinned, causing one maintenance man to freak out. Life was good.