SilverHyena

"Ooooh... por favor, no me comas," whispered America, closing her eyes once she realized just how high up they really were.

Of course, Neo seemed quite at ease with the whole process of mounting a large, fire breathing, flying reptile. The beast's saddle was quite minimal and must have violated several universes standards of safety. Kneeling down, Neo settled in, bow still in her hand as she helped America get on behind her.

"Hold on!" the konderi instructed.

"Uh... to what, exactly?"

"Whatever you can."

Well, options were limited, so America wrapped her arms around Neo's waist, burying her face against the konderi's colorful mane. She could see Talon, perched on Rugha's bright copper horn, wings stretched out for balance as the dragon's head moved. Then Neo leaned forward, placing her open palm upon Rugha's scales. America could feel the ancient and powerful magic coursing throughout both Neo and her dragon; this must have been the sacred bond she'd mentioned more than once.

"Take flight, my dear friend."

Not a shout, but rather a whispered request. One that the dragon clearly heard as his serpentine body shifted in a graceful, fluid motion and his wings spread with a melodic call. Each wingbeat caused a powerful gust, displacing the rooftop gardens and greenhouses, upending any hiding places and ambushes.

Kaine and the others were already regrouping below, foolishly contemplating if this was a battle they could still win. Many of them were conjuring weapons and preparing spells while the remaining five damned souls let out defiant, challenging shrieks. Of course, Kaine barely had a moment to react, his attention so keen on the dragon lifting into the air, that he failed to notice the blur of reddish-brown feathers silently swooping in and snatching the sling ring right out of his fingers before disappearing into the sky once more.

"K-kill that fucking thing!" shouted Kaine, gesturing towards Rugha with a shaky hand.

From atop the dragon's back, America released one arm from around Neo's waist, conjuring a Mandela shield. It wasn't necessary, as the various spells and weapons flung Rugha's way did little more than irritate him. With each wingbeat, they went higher and higher-oh dear GOD, the two of them were really flying, weren't they?!

"Oh, moving... he's moving!" America yelped, her shield quickly dissolving once she firmly clung to her friend, like a frightened koala.

Neo tried to hold in her amused chortle but ultimately failed; yes, dragons tended to move. Especially while in the air. Still, the konderi's fluffy tail curled around America, providing a little bit of extra security.

"Light 'em up, mate!"

She let out a primitive war cry, holding her bow and arrow aloft while Rugha opened his jaws with a deep, rumbling growl. From the rooftop below, Kaine and his team watched in terror as the dragon's chest glowed with bright green light, rapidly channeling up the serpentine neck. With a loud crackle and bright flash, emerald lightning spat from Rugha's maw, the static charge coursing through his horns and mane before diving forward, causing America's stomach to lurch before she let out a startled scream.

"It's amazing, right?" Neo called back, simply holding on by tightening her grip with her knees.

America chanced a peek, the buildings and streets rushing towards her all to swiftly as the wind howled in her ears, "Increíble pero una loco! Estás loco, Neo!!"

"I know I am!" the konderi answered, sounding WAY too happy for the current situation, "You gotta admit, this is fun, right?!"

Honestly, what could America really expect from someone who believed firmly that pineapple belonged on pizza? (And rode a large, flying, reptilian flamethrower?)

So, can you correctly guess who the experienced rider is... and who isn't?

I'd imagine that after being chased by various monsters and demons across the Multiverse, America would be realistically hesitant to climb up on one.

Summoning a demon, even intentionally, within one's living space was often a terrible idea. That's where pocket dimensions came in very handy. Luckily, the Sanctum Santorum had no shortage of these hidden throughout. Useful for excess storage, a quiet place to study, or even put the occasional amateur witch hunter or hostile Jahovah's Witness that showed up at the Sanctum's front door.

This particular little pocket of reality was the one used for containing fiends that found their way into the Sanctums. It appeared as a bland, windowless room; the singular object of interest being the rather ornate full length mirror. A circle of salt was formed around it, as per Neo's instructions.

"This... is more than likely a really bad idea," muttered Wong, the Wand of Watoomb already in his hand while Stephen handled the ashes of the demonic business card.

"Wouldn't be the first," Stephen chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

As he spread the ashes mixed with blessed salt along the edges of the mirror, the sorcerer felt the slightest tugging at his soul, as though it were preparing to astral project without his input. Glancing back at his shadow, as though that was where the pull had come from, he narrowed his eyes, (only the two for now.)

Yet while that parasitic third eye remained neutral towards his shadow, it flared to life upon looking in that mirror. Stephen's reflection began to grin back, impossibly wide, mouth filled with sharp teeth as an amused, feminine laugh came from it's throat.

"Three-Headed Hound? Kennel Master? Riley Prescott?!" Stephen called out, "I think it's time we had a little chat."

"Oh darling," Riley purred, finally shaking off the illusion, "I thought you'd never ask..."

The demoness stuck a molten orange needle into her arm, gold thread stitching along the tears in gray and ruby skin. With a flick of her spaded tail, she cut the thread, casually regarding the two sorcerers before her.

"Don't you darling me," Stephen growled, his Cloak already flared out and ready to attack.

"Mmmmmmm... that lovely scent you wear, Stephen Strange," hissed the fiend, leaning in closer to the glass, red eyes and grin flashing, "desperation. Desire. And a deeply closeted sense of shame... you smell as delicious as you look."

"Enough, demon!" Wong snapped, grabbing Riley's attention as he stepped in front of Stephen, "Now... you WILL answer me!"

The demoness let out a feral snarl, tail lashing behind her as she lunged forward. She hit the glass, immediately backing off once the burns seared into her skin.

"What in the heavens-?! Really boys? How unoriginal. Neo blabbed... didn't she? Little bitch!"

Her pointed ears flicked back as she growled; salt... of course it was godsdamned salt!

"Very well, Wong darling, I'll save you the trouble," she spat, opting to sew the split skin on her cheek back together, "you put the dogs in the pound. I just adopted the poor dears."

"Those are my students, demon! Return them at once or-"

Riley just rolled her eyes at Wong's threat, displaying absolute disrespect as she checked an incoming message on her communication crystal. She smirked, typing back before dismissing the device.

"Huh? What was that now? Sorry, I wasn't listening."

The absolute indignant fury fighting to come out from behind Wong's usual, stoic poker face was enough to frighten Stephen in that moment.

"You saw that? She was checking her messages!"

This was a first for them.

"Did you seriously just check your messages while the Sorcerer Supreme was speaking to you?" Stephen balked.

"Yeah," the demon freely admitted, with a shrug, "because I really don't care about what he has to say. I'm here to make YOU a deal, doc."

*

Still needs to go through editing, wrote this shortly before crashing.