The sign above the factory gates showed a blood-red triangle with the words ‘Trimble Industries’ in annoyingly bright, golden letters. The whole thing gleamed in the miserable dankness of the air around the factory, so thick with pollution and ash you could almost cut it and sell it for building material. Even now, as a group of exhausted, dirty workers trudged out of the factory, a young man was hard at work above them, perched on a ladder and scrubbing at the letters with a rag, giving the sign its daily polish. He grunted, clutching tightly to the wobbly ladder, as he strained to reach every last nook and crevice, occasionally sparing a nervous glance at the overseer below him who watched his progress.

  There were many overseers on hand to watch the workers leaving their shift. They prowled up and down the line of workers, turning out pockets and checking lunchpails, making sure no one was smuggling out anything of value. The workers submitted meekly to their searches, heads bowed and eyes lowered, flinching only a little as the men drew near with their thin metal rods and heavy fists.

  The assistants were very thorough, and no one left without being checked at least twice. So far it was slim pickings, a few screws or metal shavings that had been ‘misplaced’ or ‘fallen’ into pant cuffs, hardly worth a beating or two. But that didn’t seem to make the foreman any more pleased. He opened his mouth to bark an order, when he stopped suddenly, his pig-like eyes opening wide.

  Boom! Boom! Booooooom!

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  Everyone froze, the workers, the assistants, even the man on the ladder. They strained their ears and listened as a series of small explosions rumbled in the distance. The overseer took a deep breath, maybe to shout, maybe to order, but before he could make even a sound a larger explosion drowned him out.

  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!

  All at once, the factory behind them exploded into pieces, engulfed in a huge fireball that reached to the heavens! The overseer fell backwards, blown off his feet by the force of the blast. The rest of the workers went flying as well, thrown backwards into the street. Only the man on the ladder remained where he was, clinging to the sign with both arms as the ladder blew away beneath him. He hung there, legs kicking frantically and calling for help, as what was left of the factory continued to burn.

  Then the man stopped kicking, straining to hear. There was a new sound in the air, like the sound of mighty wings filling with air. He stared upwards.

  Behind the towering pillar of smoke, a dark shape was rising into the air. It was blurry and hard to make out behind the smoke, but he seemed to see vast wings stretching out, a long scaly neck, and a huge horned head full of fangs.

  “Dr-Dr-Dragon!” he shouted. Other workers, picking themselves up in the street, pointed and stared, taking up the cry. “Dragon!”

  Then with a flash, fire burst from the shadowy creature’s mouth. The worker flinched back, blinking his eyes, and when he looked again, the shadow was gone. He clung there, mouth agape, staring frightened at the heavens, and the factory continued to burn.