The street never seemed to get completely washed. Between the rocks and asphalt, ash still painted grey streams of memory toward the sewers. Or perhaps it was just Mary’s imagination. Mother had always admired how vividly she could imagine things.
They were watching the old tube TV that sat high on the old mixing machines. There had once been an LCD there, but when that got melted away, an older cathode ray tube had just felt right. It went with the blue, red, white tiles, now blackened and greyed by heat, and with the silly little paper hat that the parlorman had insisted on wearing, like some historical relic teleported across the decades from the 30s. The bunny ears were bent and homely-looking, though mostly useless when Dragon didn’t have a metal claw gripped around one, using her shining scales as an extension. As it was, nothing pleasant was broadcast over air anymore. All the better, since Mary and Dragon weren’t in the business of attending pleasant business.
“We interrupt your program to bring you this breaking news alert,” Bill O’Doley said, suddenly sliding in from the right like some default powerpoint transition. “Police forces are cautioning residents to stay clear of West Dorchester and South Palminelo Street, where ‘armed forces’ appear to currently be engaging ‘parahuman thugs.’” Dragon smirked, and the reception faded before buzzing back to life. She loved the dry humor that the BPD showed in such circumstances. “Once again, civilians are being urged to stay clear of the fire zone, and to stay indoors if at all possible.”
The previously-scheduled program resumed, though neither of them cared any more now than they had for the past hour. Mary stared out across the street and Dragon pushed a bit of wallpaper into place, letting it spring up when she removed her finger and pressing it down once more. “Well?” Mary finally asked, turning her attention to the older one.
“Not my kind of scene. We know anybody that way?”
“Carlson’s in Gladius, right? You think he’d be in there?”
“Naw, I don’t think he even knows which side the bullets come from.”
“Hmmm.” Silence lapsed, but for Mary tapping her empty spoon against her empty ice cream glass, one of those classic ones that the sundays came in. They’d never gotten to have a sunday glass, Mother had said there was no point paying extra for a cherry if no one was going to eat it. Mary hated cherries then. “Anything else on the radar?”
“I got nothin’.”
“I’m tired of sitting around.” Mary got up, and Dragon moved to the door, which she politely opened for the little girl. “You think anyone’s gonna come find us?”
“Eventually… though we could go give them a few more hints. I hear there are still a few people alive in Wonderland!”
“Dragon,” Mary sighed, and Dragon smirked again at the way she drew out her name, with a long “a” that rose and then fell as she crumpled into a melodramatic pile on the sidewalk. “Not until we know who Covenant is after! We can’t help anyone if we’re dead!”
“That would put a damper on things, I suppose.”
Dragon kicked away some of the dust, and sat. She placed an arm around Mary as she sat up, and the two stared down the lonely street, an exasperated sigh coming from them both at the same time.