Observing the silhouettes of the formation as they faded into the distance, turning to position themselves for another pass, Volucer bided his time, waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike. In speed, they handily outdid his flapping wings, in the open skies with no cover to be had, any kind of engagement would invariably be on their terms.
Berating Volucer with one more, clearly denoted, final warning, the squadron came alongside their mythical target once more, matching the Volucer’s slow speed with difficulty as they took stock of what they were dealing with. Pons could practically imagine the surprise and confusion on the pilots’ faces as they stared into the eyes of a dragon, out for a lovely morning flight over Washington D.C. as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Volucer, too, foresaw the distraction his likeness would provide, maneuvering swiftly to bring his wing crashing down on its counterpart of the jet nearest his right flank, ripping its source of lift from the fuselage jaggedly. Off-balance and sent hurtling towards the earth by Volucer’s powerful strike, the pilot of the doomed craft abandoned ship as the fighter turned into nothing more than a tumbling mass of smoke and flame. Watching with satisfaction, Volucer smirked, hoping all the while no one below fell victim to this unavoidably destructive conflict.
“Who’s next?” keeping the smug look on his face, Volucer looked over both shoulders, the question as sincere as it was taunting.
Caught thoroughly off guard by the deft strike, what was left of the flock of frightened birds broke away, zipping out ahead so they could descend upon their prey with lethal intent. Volucer, not keen to find himself caught out by his weakened, but still potent, adversaries, switched tactics, turning to a little something he and his two co-conspirators had concocted one hot and sleepless summer night. Putting an exciting twist on their recently completed plans for Volucer’s plasma breath, a whole new way to safeguard their winged friend from virtually any attack soon took shape.
Getting the cold gears of war grinding, Volucer began with the fuel he would need to power his trump card; air. Swallowing a vast bellyful of the versatile and oft-overlooked substance, he began the intensive process of turning the inert soup of atmospheric gases into a bubbling brew of superheated plasma with a trip to his hellishly hot internal furnace. Dumping every ounce of excess power he could spare into accelerating the process, his reserves quickly reached capacity, enough of the dangerous medium now stored within to proceed to the next stage. Winding his neck back in preparation, Volucer warned Pons to cover his ears and close his eyes lest permanent damage befall his delicate human senses.
Kicking off phase two with a bang, Volucer opened wide his gaping mouth of razor-sharp teeth, exhaling a pillar of the radiant matter with force and noise enough to rival a rocket engine at take-off. However, unlike the space-faring vehicle, Volucer was brought to a halt, not launched to the stars, it taking everything his wings had just to keep him from shooting backward.
Unlike the previous night, though, the ray didn’t continue on to wreak devastation, instead being caught and pulled back in by an invisible force, spreading out into an ethereal shell that quickly enveloped them in a rapidly spinning resplendent sphere. Pons, meanwhile, feeling the scorching waves wash over him as the soaring temperatures drove the wind into a frenzy, and the tremendous rumble reverberated across the heavens from horizon to horizon, wished he could still see their attackers. Only after several moments of the tumult, and ignoring Volucer’s instructions not to look, did he remember the augmentation Volucer had so graciously bestowed upon him.
Following the instructions he had been given, he thought as hard as he could about diminishing the blindingly bright spectacle of color that obscured the rest of the world. With the power and brightness of Volucer’s weapon at full force, the nanites struggled to compensate, but in the end, they proved to be just potent enough for Pons to see a rough image of the sky beyond the inferno, and not a moment too soon.
Dead ahead, all three jets released their supersonic payloads, a spiraling helix of missiles now on a collision course and only moments away. Volucer, fearless in the face of his imminent destruction, stayed motionless, hovering in the sky as he unleashed the true potential of his protective bubble.
Controlled by powerful electromagnetic fields emanating from within Volucer Beta, he was able to manipulate spin and intensity with impunity, a combination that let him undertake some rather impressive feats.
Still hovering, hanging in the sky like a second sun, Volucer wasted no time making good use of his fully deployed weapon. Releasing bursts of the veil-like miniature solar flares, he intercepted each rapidly approaching missile with laser precision. Piercing the metal shell of each ordnance, the plasma triggered the ordinarily stable explosives within, detonating them and leaving nothing but a hail of shrapnel for the impenetrable defensive barrier to vaporize effortlessly. So absolute was the protection that a gentle breeze and the echoes of distant explosions was the only remnant of the barrage Pons was subjected to in his privileged position in the eye of the storm.