High above the plaza, pinned beneath a constricting cage of interlocked paperclips that had folded her mighty wings into useless, stiff fans, Tabitha seethed. The emerald dragon wasn't just furious; she was professionally insulted. Recycling? Liquidation? Denial of overtime gemstones and hydra dental? This wasn't just an attack; it was a violation of the most sacred dragon doctrine: negotiated compensation.
The chaotic duel below – Mammon's void-contracts warping the air against Stapler Prime's percussive barrages of administrative ordnance – sent disruptive shockwaves rippling through reality. Each clash made the paperclip mesh pinning Tabitha vibrate.
The rigid metal groaned. A single clip, stressed beyond its tensile strength by a particularly violent reality tremor caused by Mammon dissolving a filing cabinet tower into sentient fine print, pinged loose.
