“Okay. Am giving up. You win.” Thibor managed from between clenched teeth. He took a step back, his huge chest rising and falling in an obvious effort not to flee screaming.
“We haven't fought yet.” His opponent looked perplexed; or at least what passed for perplexed on the beaked face of a twelve foot tall bipedal triceratops.
“Is not ruining it.” Thibor continued. “Am still holding on to rapidly fleeing fantasy that will not actually have to touch you. Please is not taking this away from me.”
* * *
“Papa! Papa!” A blonde missile hit his knee in a fashion that immediately convinced Thibor that his daughter was not made, as were other little girls, of sugar and spice and everything nice, but rather industrial strength rubber bands, rhinoceroses, and farrier's anvils. Little Liesel used his momentary stagger to climb up to his shoulders, her small, freakishly strong hands grabbed handfuls of his shirt and the chest hair underneath; the reenforced fabric of the shirt held out far better than the hair.
“Liesel. Gentle.” Thibor warned as his daughter hugged his head from behind, arms around his forehead, legs around his neck. “Urrrk!”
“Auntie Charcoal said you fought dinosaurs today!” Liesel enthused, “Danger! Danger! Tell me all about it!”
Managing to unwind the squirming five year old and hold her out at arm's length, Thibor considered his response carefully.
“No.”
* * *
While his inner monologue was clear on the point that he was engaging in a tactical delay, allowing civilians to clear the area and thus reduce their potential as potential hostiles or collateral damage, Thibor did not believe it for one second. It might have been true; he just wasn't willing to give the tactical consideration the weight it deserved in the face of what he had just jumped into. After decades in the special operative game, the more jaded might think they had seen everything, but they were deluding themselves. No matter what horrors you faced, no matter how strange your foes were, things could always surprise you. Not in an enjoyable surprise it is your birthday kind of way. More of giant naked clown with a meat cleaver, trained baboon, and an erection kind of way. The irony being that the latter was not actually that surprising and was not quite a yearly occurrence, but frequent enough to be strangely comforting.
A twelve foot bipedal triceratops was not comforting. A twelve foot bipedal triceratops dressed, in the saurian equivalent of a seventies uber-pimp costume even less so. Purple crushed velvet pants and long coat, trimmed in leopard patterned faux fur. Platform shoes that added another foot of height, a hat, and a long silver cane topped with amber.
“No one messes with Superflyceratops!” The creature announced loudly. “The Saurian Shaft, the Dolemite of the Devonian, the Prehistoric! Pimp! Of the Year!”
“Have been waiting all day to say that.” The museum gallery was mostly clear, sure there were several huge mounted dinosaur skeletons, each worth several million dollars, not to mention the special exhibit of precious stones that were the likely target of the attack. Thibor was sure he could, with minimal property damage, deal with the situation as it now stood. The moment that reassuring thought crossed his mind, he knew he was truly fucked.
* * *
“Papa!” Liesel unwrapped herself from his arm and dropped lithely onto the ground. Her cute little face bunched up in a fierce pout, but no tears were forthcoming. Liesel didn't cry. “Tell me or...or... I'll fight you!”
Thibor considered his daughter. She was at that special age and height that made all children dangerous in a fight. Well perhaps not dangerous; highly-likely-to-punch-you-in-the-junk-because-that's-as-high-as-they-can-reach was not dangerous; having that that, it was something to be avoided if at all possible. Especially as Lethal did not punch her weight; rather she punched the weight of her entire senior kindergarten class, the teacher, the teacher's aide, and the school bus.
He considered telling her.
“No. Am not telling. Is going to be fight.”
* * *
One of the areas of research that rarely, if ever, makes it into general books on the subject of dinosaurs is mating. Reproduction through laying eggs is covered, including brooding behaviours, nest patterns and the number and size of the eggs were all there, but the actual mechanics of dinosaur reproduction were absent. Due to soft tissues not fossilizing, the subject of dinosaur junk, though under study, just didn't make it into the big book of Dinosaurs. Thibor knew that someone, somewhere, was likely writing their doctorate on whether or not you could effectively kick a dinosaur in the dick. More power to them.
For his own part, Thibor was a practical individual, and did not linger on the possibility of Superflyceratops having junk that could be effectively kicked. A kick from Thibor could shatter stone, it would be an effective attack, there actually being testicles there would be a bonus, not necessary, but a bonus. At the last moment the ceratopsian pimp shifted, catching the kick on the large muscles of his thigh. The force of the blow knocking him backwards.
“Motherfu...!” Superflyceratops managed. He stomped his leg and danced in a quick, pained circle. “Oh now you're going to get it! Dinowhores!” The gem on his cane flared with a sickly amber light, bathing the room in a piss coloured glow; a urinal cake's view of the world. Several of the mounted skeletons stirred and pulled themselves free, glowing green flesh manifesting, wrapping around the bones.
“That T-rex has tits.” Thibor managed, suitably horrified. “Why does T-rex have enormous tits? Cannot even reach around them with tiny little arms.”
“T-rex? None of those here.” Superflyceratops crowed. “You're looking at a super-fine, hot-blooded, Tyranosaurus Sex. That hot number over there is Protoceratopless, the lean, fast one with the long red claw-nails is Velocirapture, and that big-bootied beauty is Stegasoreass. She's my fine, fine, backdoor girl.”
“Am just going to pretend you did not say anything.” Thibor growled. “Is better for all humanity, paleontology, and universe in general.”
* * *
“Dinosaurs!” At five, Lethal did not have a broad range of techniques to draw upon; but she compensated with a triple helping of aggression. Aggression and a willingness to hurt the other person were vastly underrated when it came to rating fighting prowess. Lethal had both, and had not internalized that she was short and five years old. Or rather she had fully internalized the fact, and did not care at all. She charged in at top speed, braids trailing, and at the last minute turned a fake kick into a long slide that took her between Thibor's legs, the slide converting to a rising uppercut. Rather than try and dodge, Thibor leapt straight up, shifting fully to werewolf as he did. It was even less fair for Lethal, but she had also internalized the Sawchyk warfare mantra. Fair was where you went on pony rides.
* * *
One of the key abilities in any hero, special operative, or International Super Team member was the ability to quickly absorb and adapt to unique situations as they arose. This was a skill Thibor was normally very adept at. Being stalked by glowing, highly sexualized, semi-corporeal, dinosaur hookers would be considered one of those unique situations; the OODA loop of Observe, Orient, Decide, Act played out quickly. Observe; there are things that no man or werewolf should see outside of Deviantart, and even then he would be making plans to yank out both of his eyes and dip them in drain cleaner. Orient; five targets, four circling for position, one holding back. Decide: Run screaming, give up and die horribly, die horribly screaming without having the chance to give up. All very tempting, but he had a school play to go to in two nights, so they were all off the table. That left fighting. He would grab the closest one by the tail and swing it at the others and...
“Those are not spikes on tail of Stegasorus!” Thibor grimaced.
“So you like them?” The triceratops pimp grinned as much as his beak-like mouth allowed. “If that's your thing, jump on man, Superflyceratops don't judge on anyone getting their freak on.”
Act: This was going to suck. Thibor considered all the teeth for a moment. The chances of it sucking were high. The chance of it sucking without rows of sharp pointy teeth were practically zero.
“I know what you're thinking.” Superflyceratops chortled. “There's no way you can possibly satisfy all my dino sweethearts. Not enough meat to go round when they eat you.”
“First. Fuck you.” Thibor growled. “Second. Nature finds a way.”
* * *
“Yaaaahh!” Lethal's combination was perfectly executed, swift kick to the shin, followed by a jab at his knee and a sweeping left hook aimed crotchward. Thibor accepted the first two strikes, and turned his thigh to catch the third one. It was unlikely that Lethal's strongest punch could hurt him, even in a highly sensitive area, but better safe than sorry when his own bollocks were on the line. The fist impacted perfectly on the lateral femoral nerve, and invulnerable or not, his leg collapsed. A tiny, insanely strong hand grabbed one of his ears and twisted it around.
“Tell me about the Dinosaurs!” Lethal hissed, giving the ear a further twist.
“Mommy taught you a new technique.” Thibor said. “Am very proud of you.”
“DinoWHAAAA!” It wasn't fair. Thibor knew it, Lethal knew it, the universe knew it. That didn't stop him from doing it. Thibor twisted, rolling and rotating his neck with an audible snap. Lethal tried to hold on, and ended up taking a handful of ear with her, but could not resist being tossed bodily into the air. Thibor estimated she reached sixty feet before the earth and its very best friend gravity decided that they could not do without her and started her back down towards him. Her instincts were good, she twisted and aimed towards him, foot extended in a kick that would likely break her bones if it landed. He snatched her from the air at the last minute, before swinging her around to slow her down enough that her impact with the ground was merely painful, rather than bone breaking. He pinned her down with one foot. She immediately started trying to gnaw through his ankle.
“Okay. Will tell you.” Thibor relented. Little Lethal had fought way above her weight class and deserved a reward. “But is listening closely Elizabeth Charlotte Marta Sawchyk. Is not telling Mommy I told you.”
“Yay!” Lethal spat out a mouthful of hair. “Tell me about fighting dinosaurs.”
* * *
Whoever said size doesn't matter in a fight was a big person, and they were lying. Thibor was freakishly strong, but topped out at 800 pounds of fur and muscle. That was 6,000 pounds less than an average stegosaurus, and a drop in the bucket compared to the 18,000 pounds of a Tyranosaurus Rex. He was almost certainly stronger, but if they used their mass correctly, he could be thrown about easily. This would have to be about leverage. He reached into his front pocket and grabbed a handful.
In retrospect, he had only given it a small chance of succeeding, but the handful of twenties he threw into the air immediately drew the attention of the circling dinosaurs. He was past them in a second and launched himself at Superflyceratops in a low, powerful leap. The dinosaur pimp lowered his massive head, lining up his impressive horns with Thibor's face. At the last moment, Thibor reached out and grabbed the horns, piking his body over, dragging the dinosaur with him. The impact was enough to embed the dinosaur's head in the floor. The thick legs kicked momentarily, and then Thibor's doubled fists slammed down into the dinosaur groin. Turns out Triceratops, or at least the pimp variety, did have testicles.
The fight ended not with a whimper, but with the sustained sound of pain induced vomiting followed by a loss of consicousness. There was an explosion of green energy as the forces animating the dino-harlots lost cohesion and the loose bones tumbled to the floor.
When they left they took his money. That figured.
* * *
“You only beat up one dinosaur?” Lethal pulled the steak off her eye, considered the slab of raw and bloody meat briefly, tore a mouthful out of it and slapped it back over her black eye. She had already shook off the worst of their tussle, and even the two black eyes would be gone by supper. While she didn't heal werewolf fast, her powers of recuperation were already impressive. “You should have fought the T-Rex. She's my favourite.”
“Next fight will be with comptroller.” Thibor pulled the steak off Lethal's eye, took a bite, and then slapped it back in place. “Am having to justify strange expense report.”
“We haven't fought yet.” His opponent looked perplexed; or at least what passed for perplexed on the beaked face of a twelve foot tall bipedal triceratops.
“Is not ruining it.” Thibor continued. “Am still holding on to rapidly fleeing fantasy that will not actually have to touch you. Please is not taking this away from me.”
* * *
“Papa! Papa!” A blonde missile hit his knee in a fashion that immediately convinced Thibor that his daughter was not made, as were other little girls, of sugar and spice and everything nice, but rather industrial strength rubber bands, rhinoceroses, and farrier's anvils. Little Liesel used his momentary stagger to climb up to his shoulders, her small, freakishly strong hands grabbed handfuls of his shirt and the chest hair underneath; the reenforced fabric of the shirt held out far better than the hair.
“Liesel. Gentle.” Thibor warned as his daughter hugged his head from behind, arms around his forehead, legs around his neck. “Urrrk!”
“Auntie Charcoal said you fought dinosaurs today!” Liesel enthused, “Danger! Danger! Tell me all about it!”
Managing to unwind the squirming five year old and hold her out at arm's length, Thibor considered his response carefully.
“No.”
* * *
While his inner monologue was clear on the point that he was engaging in a tactical delay, allowing civilians to clear the area and thus reduce their potential as potential hostiles or collateral damage, Thibor did not believe it for one second. It might have been true; he just wasn't willing to give the tactical consideration the weight it deserved in the face of what he had just jumped into. After decades in the special operative game, the more jaded might think they had seen everything, but they were deluding themselves. No matter what horrors you faced, no matter how strange your foes were, things could always surprise you. Not in an enjoyable surprise it is your birthday kind of way. More of giant naked clown with a meat cleaver, trained baboon, and an erection kind of way. The irony being that the latter was not actually that surprising and was not quite a yearly occurrence, but frequent enough to be strangely comforting.
A twelve foot bipedal triceratops was not comforting. A twelve foot bipedal triceratops dressed, in the saurian equivalent of a seventies uber-pimp costume even less so. Purple crushed velvet pants and long coat, trimmed in leopard patterned faux fur. Platform shoes that added another foot of height, a hat, and a long silver cane topped with amber.
“No one messes with Superflyceratops!” The creature announced loudly. “The Saurian Shaft, the Dolemite of the Devonian, the Prehistoric! Pimp! Of the Year!”
“Have been waiting all day to say that.” The museum gallery was mostly clear, sure there were several huge mounted dinosaur skeletons, each worth several million dollars, not to mention the special exhibit of precious stones that were the likely target of the attack. Thibor was sure he could, with minimal property damage, deal with the situation as it now stood. The moment that reassuring thought crossed his mind, he knew he was truly fucked.
* * *
“Papa!” Liesel unwrapped herself from his arm and dropped lithely onto the ground. Her cute little face bunched up in a fierce pout, but no tears were forthcoming. Liesel didn't cry. “Tell me or...or... I'll fight you!”
Thibor considered his daughter. She was at that special age and height that made all children dangerous in a fight. Well perhaps not dangerous; highly-likely-to-punch-you-in-the-junk-because-that's-as-high-as-they-can-reach was not dangerous; having that that, it was something to be avoided if at all possible. Especially as Lethal did not punch her weight; rather she punched the weight of her entire senior kindergarten class, the teacher, the teacher's aide, and the school bus.
He considered telling her.
“No. Am not telling. Is going to be fight.”
* * *
One of the areas of research that rarely, if ever, makes it into general books on the subject of dinosaurs is mating. Reproduction through laying eggs is covered, including brooding behaviours, nest patterns and the number and size of the eggs were all there, but the actual mechanics of dinosaur reproduction were absent. Due to soft tissues not fossilizing, the subject of dinosaur junk, though under study, just didn't make it into the big book of Dinosaurs. Thibor knew that someone, somewhere, was likely writing their doctorate on whether or not you could effectively kick a dinosaur in the dick. More power to them.
For his own part, Thibor was a practical individual, and did not linger on the possibility of Superflyceratops having junk that could be effectively kicked. A kick from Thibor could shatter stone, it would be an effective attack, there actually being testicles there would be a bonus, not necessary, but a bonus. At the last moment the ceratopsian pimp shifted, catching the kick on the large muscles of his thigh. The force of the blow knocking him backwards.
“Motherfu...!” Superflyceratops managed. He stomped his leg and danced in a quick, pained circle. “Oh now you're going to get it! Dinowhores!” The gem on his cane flared with a sickly amber light, bathing the room in a piss coloured glow; a urinal cake's view of the world. Several of the mounted skeletons stirred and pulled themselves free, glowing green flesh manifesting, wrapping around the bones.
“That T-rex has tits.” Thibor managed, suitably horrified. “Why does T-rex have enormous tits? Cannot even reach around them with tiny little arms.”
“T-rex? None of those here.” Superflyceratops crowed. “You're looking at a super-fine, hot-blooded, Tyranosaurus Sex. That hot number over there is Protoceratopless, the lean, fast one with the long red claw-nails is Velocirapture, and that big-bootied beauty is Stegasoreass. She's my fine, fine, backdoor girl.”
“Am just going to pretend you did not say anything.” Thibor growled. “Is better for all humanity, paleontology, and universe in general.”
* * *
“Dinosaurs!” At five, Lethal did not have a broad range of techniques to draw upon; but she compensated with a triple helping of aggression. Aggression and a willingness to hurt the other person were vastly underrated when it came to rating fighting prowess. Lethal had both, and had not internalized that she was short and five years old. Or rather she had fully internalized the fact, and did not care at all. She charged in at top speed, braids trailing, and at the last minute turned a fake kick into a long slide that took her between Thibor's legs, the slide converting to a rising uppercut. Rather than try and dodge, Thibor leapt straight up, shifting fully to werewolf as he did. It was even less fair for Lethal, but she had also internalized the Sawchyk warfare mantra. Fair was where you went on pony rides.
* * *
One of the key abilities in any hero, special operative, or International Super Team member was the ability to quickly absorb and adapt to unique situations as they arose. This was a skill Thibor was normally very adept at. Being stalked by glowing, highly sexualized, semi-corporeal, dinosaur hookers would be considered one of those unique situations; the OODA loop of Observe, Orient, Decide, Act played out quickly. Observe; there are things that no man or werewolf should see outside of Deviantart, and even then he would be making plans to yank out both of his eyes and dip them in drain cleaner. Orient; five targets, four circling for position, one holding back. Decide: Run screaming, give up and die horribly, die horribly screaming without having the chance to give up. All very tempting, but he had a school play to go to in two nights, so they were all off the table. That left fighting. He would grab the closest one by the tail and swing it at the others and...
“Those are not spikes on tail of Stegasorus!” Thibor grimaced.
“So you like them?” The triceratops pimp grinned as much as his beak-like mouth allowed. “If that's your thing, jump on man, Superflyceratops don't judge on anyone getting their freak on.”
Act: This was going to suck. Thibor considered all the teeth for a moment. The chances of it sucking were high. The chance of it sucking without rows of sharp pointy teeth were practically zero.
“I know what you're thinking.” Superflyceratops chortled. “There's no way you can possibly satisfy all my dino sweethearts. Not enough meat to go round when they eat you.”
“First. Fuck you.” Thibor growled. “Second. Nature finds a way.”
* * *
“Yaaaahh!” Lethal's combination was perfectly executed, swift kick to the shin, followed by a jab at his knee and a sweeping left hook aimed crotchward. Thibor accepted the first two strikes, and turned his thigh to catch the third one. It was unlikely that Lethal's strongest punch could hurt him, even in a highly sensitive area, but better safe than sorry when his own bollocks were on the line. The fist impacted perfectly on the lateral femoral nerve, and invulnerable or not, his leg collapsed. A tiny, insanely strong hand grabbed one of his ears and twisted it around.
“Tell me about the Dinosaurs!” Lethal hissed, giving the ear a further twist.
“Mommy taught you a new technique.” Thibor said. “Am very proud of you.”
“DinoWHAAAA!” It wasn't fair. Thibor knew it, Lethal knew it, the universe knew it. That didn't stop him from doing it. Thibor twisted, rolling and rotating his neck with an audible snap. Lethal tried to hold on, and ended up taking a handful of ear with her, but could not resist being tossed bodily into the air. Thibor estimated she reached sixty feet before the earth and its very best friend gravity decided that they could not do without her and started her back down towards him. Her instincts were good, she twisted and aimed towards him, foot extended in a kick that would likely break her bones if it landed. He snatched her from the air at the last minute, before swinging her around to slow her down enough that her impact with the ground was merely painful, rather than bone breaking. He pinned her down with one foot. She immediately started trying to gnaw through his ankle.
“Okay. Will tell you.” Thibor relented. Little Lethal had fought way above her weight class and deserved a reward. “But is listening closely Elizabeth Charlotte Marta Sawchyk. Is not telling Mommy I told you.”
“Yay!” Lethal spat out a mouthful of hair. “Tell me about fighting dinosaurs.”
* * *
Whoever said size doesn't matter in a fight was a big person, and they were lying. Thibor was freakishly strong, but topped out at 800 pounds of fur and muscle. That was 6,000 pounds less than an average stegosaurus, and a drop in the bucket compared to the 18,000 pounds of a Tyranosaurus Rex. He was almost certainly stronger, but if they used their mass correctly, he could be thrown about easily. This would have to be about leverage. He reached into his front pocket and grabbed a handful.
In retrospect, he had only given it a small chance of succeeding, but the handful of twenties he threw into the air immediately drew the attention of the circling dinosaurs. He was past them in a second and launched himself at Superflyceratops in a low, powerful leap. The dinosaur pimp lowered his massive head, lining up his impressive horns with Thibor's face. At the last moment, Thibor reached out and grabbed the horns, piking his body over, dragging the dinosaur with him. The impact was enough to embed the dinosaur's head in the floor. The thick legs kicked momentarily, and then Thibor's doubled fists slammed down into the dinosaur groin. Turns out Triceratops, or at least the pimp variety, did have testicles.
The fight ended not with a whimper, but with the sustained sound of pain induced vomiting followed by a loss of consicousness. There was an explosion of green energy as the forces animating the dino-harlots lost cohesion and the loose bones tumbled to the floor.
When they left they took his money. That figured.
* * *
“You only beat up one dinosaur?” Lethal pulled the steak off her eye, considered the slab of raw and bloody meat briefly, tore a mouthful out of it and slapped it back over her black eye. She had already shook off the worst of their tussle, and even the two black eyes would be gone by supper. While she didn't heal werewolf fast, her powers of recuperation were already impressive. “You should have fought the T-Rex. She's my favourite.”
“Next fight will be with comptroller.” Thibor pulled the steak off Lethal's eye, took a bite, and then slapped it back in place. “Am having to justify strange expense report.”
