----
The Lion and the Unicorn,
Were fighting for the crown;
The Lion beat the Unicorn,
All about the town.
Some gave them white bread,
And some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum cake,
And drummed them out of town!
----
There was a newly formed crater in the earth, and in it were the remains of a town square.
And amongst
that, two battered, scraped and bruised men were locked in a match of death-glares, breathing harshly and creating dramatic silhouettes in the restless dust. It was a standstill, a battle of wills at this point, and they both ached horribly. A sizable crowd of onlookers, tiptoeing around the edges of the deep bowl, flocked around them- some chattered with their neighbors in gossip, some fiddled with their phones- someone, at one point, was going to have to do something. No one ever won a war with an angry stare.
The man to the right shifted unsteadily from the tight crouch he had himself in- and when he stood, his white coat billowed in the dusty breeze. Several fashion designers snapped photographs.
He pushed his lengthy red hair from his face, wiped his cut cheek roughly, paused, swirled a mixture of saliva and blood around in his mouth and spat it disdainfully onto the ground. Then he took the crown from his head- a chunk of solid gold that was somehow free of all scratches, dirt or dents- and tossed it at the man opposite. It fell short, and rolled for a bit before winding down, like a spinning coin.
"There. Take the... The bloody thing." The crown-less man said, leaning heavily on his lance-like weapon. It was affectionately called the "horn", and while it resembled no practical weapon in use today, it did appear to do quite a bit of damage. "
Lion."
The man across from him, clad in a similarly dramatic outfit that used
far more fur than any normal man should dare try to pull of with dignity, stood with swaying grace. He used his own strange form of weaponry- claws, like brass knuckles, that strapped to his hand- to pull the kingly headpiece towards him. It took a bit of awkward fumbling to get adjusted onto his head, which is expected with knives strapped to your fingers, but he stood a little prouder with it affixed. Which was a hardly noticeable change, really, because the man seemed to ooze pride.
Behind him, a small tower of rubble collapsed.
And then the dust cut off.
It was like a string had snapped, and suddenly the crowd had come back to their senses. Some- newcomers, tourists, small children and the like- stumbled about in a panic, not sure what to make of what they had just witnessed. They ran in to buildings, or into them, and back out again- they chirped to their family members frantically, or tweeted a play-back of the latest events through their smartphones. The regular visitors and residents ignored them. Instead, they offered the two men bread- both brown and white- and slowly the fighters were ushered to opposite sides of the street while the damage was being assessed. They were bandaged, fed, consoled or congratulated- and all the while police, and firefighters, and the occasional good citizen who didn't know what he'd signed himself up for, shook their heads at the scene. When the lion and the unicorn fought, it was all you could do to keep away until they finished. Unless you really, really disliked your head.
A plum cake was delivered to a sizable bolder in the crater, the closest thing to a table on neutral ground, by way of a small waitress. She was one of the few newcomers to the area, a shy girl who moved here for the "lovely, active scenery", and she flushed bright red under the eyes of both the Unicorn and Lion. She wisely scampered off after the dessert was delivered.
The men advanced on the cake.
"Well, horsey," said the Lion, clawed hand poised to cut soft confectionery. The crown gleamed, as did his fanged smile. "Shall we let them eat cake, or take it for ourselves?"
The Unicorn was unamused, and his face showed it. "Do not call me that," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. His head looked quite bare without the crown. "And give it to the people, the Drummers will be here too soon to-"
Loud, low sound vibrations carried over the square, shaking the chests and heads of all those around. Slick black cars came into view, the source of the noise, each sporting bright red paint designs which read "DRUMMERS" on the hood. Their drivers were invisible, blocked by tinted windows, and the cars did nothing but park in a "V" formation and wait.
It didn't take long- the Unicorn went running almost immediately, nimble over the fallen buildings and swift on his feet, hands at his ears. Many people missed him leave entirely.
The Lion, on the other hand, lagged behind. While he winced a bit at the rattling vibrations, he had time to mock-salute and swipe a bit of cake onto his claw, licking it off before he took his leave. Once both men were clearly out of sight, the cars turned and left, silent as shadows.
Slowly, sanity returned to the town square. People began to go about their business, or shuffle through the rubble left behind; Children and tourists were carefully removed from the scene, either being directed to their homes or the nearest pub, respectively.
No one mentioned the Lion or the Unicorn again.
Thus was a normal week in Nurseryland.
