Oh. I am to disguise myself as a guard.
That is a good plan.
Pulling myself forward with my arms, I smash a fist through the ceiling. My vision swims as a broken rib snags on a joist.
Pay it no mind.
The dragon reaches up and helps pull the sheetrock away until there is a space big enough for me to squeeze through.
Unfortunately, it has to be headfirst.
I let go.
The dragon breaks my fall and I land hard, a heavy collapsed heap on his torso.
“Fuck me, you must weigh a metric ton,” he groans, pushing me off, then staggering to his feet. “Hurry up and dress, then we need to hide the body.”
Body.
Ah, yes. The guard who is no longer breathing. I look down at his neck. It is at an angle that nature never intended. I knew the dragon was strong.
I strip the black tactical gear from the cooling corpse.
“Take your time, janitor. No rush or anything,” Drakeward grumbles.
My breath hitches as I slide my arms into the jacket. The uniform is designed for an average man, not a giant with broken ribs. The boots are several sizes too small, so my own workboots will have to suffice.
Finally, I’m completely clothed and pull the heavy, matte-black visor over my face.
“You look like an overgrown EMD kid,” the dragon mutters.
I don’t understand his words but it is of no consequence. Most of what he says isn’t worth paying any mind to.
Together we haul the dead guard into a recessed maintenance alcove.
The dragon leans back against the wall. I watch his eyes flit as thoughts crowd his busy head. “Might be a good idea to muddy the waters,” he says.
I wait.
This world is his, not mine. He understands it in a way I would never want to.
“Anything flammable in there?” he asks, indicating his head to the closet.
I look around.
Stacks of cleaning chemicals are placed against the furthest wall. Now, thisismy wheelhouse.
Hmm, adhesive remover. It contains toluene.
Really foolish to store it alongside the pile of cleaning rags.
Rags that look like they’ve been used to mop up oil spills.
I look up and nod at the dragon. His eyes flicker with something that almost looks like excitement. “Then let’s get to work.”
I tilt my head. He follows my gaze as I stare at the ceiling.
At the fire alarm.
