Shitty Dragon Story Take 2

Three seconds to live, I think.

The conclusion is easily arrived at. The dragon is facing away from me, meaning that it needs to turn around before I am incinerated. This, of course, will also require it to move its tail out of the way, which may pose a bit of difficulty in the narrow hallway that leads from my desk to my door.

Perhaps three is being generous. Then again, I can afford to give myself some  generosity. I am, you know, fucking dying. I think I can give myself some slack.

And what a fucking way to die. Turned into an over-cooked potato chip by a damn dragon. Much better than dying of high blood pressure, right? I might as well be positive about this. No reason to worry about the inevitable.

The dragon tilts its great horned head upwards, looking up my door. Its red scales stand out against the green paint, and I am reminded of Christmas.

...Shit. This is a lot more than three seconds, which means that I suddenly have problems. The dragon may not notice me, which means my death is not inevitable, which means I need to worry. In fact, I probably need to worry more than I ever have before.

Ok, fuck. Uh, the window behind me. I might be able to crash through it. Although then I'd just die by bleeding out on the pavement, which is much less interesting than dying to a dragon. So that's not an option.

Maybe I can attack it?

Yeah, ok, fat fucking chance. It's pretty small for a dragon—hell, it's probably shorter than me when I stand up, if a lot wider, but it's still a fucking dragon. It could probably impale me with the spikes on its back, and they're not even that big.

Hm. Maybe I can hide under my desk? There's barely enough room to fit me. Maybe this dragon is on some kind of evil mission and is too focused to notice me. After all, it—

"No!"

OH FUCK IT TALKS

"No no no!"

The dragon slams against my closet wall, falling onto its stomach. Its head ducks to the ground.

"I can't... they did it. They actually did it."

Hm. He sounds more upset than murderous. Although it's perfectly possible for him to be both.

I stand up, worrying finished. I'm hopelessly overpowered and he's blocking the only exit, giving me one option.

"Hey," I say. Somehow, my voice doesn't crack, even though my entire body is shaking with terror.

His head snaps up, then starts to turn. It's a motion I instantly recognize, from a billion horror movies. He's doing the "the killer is right behind you" thing.

His eyes rest on me and his body moves faster than I can comprehend. He's facing me now, head still low to the floor. Well, fuck, here it comes.

"I know you are powerful," he states. "But do not underestimate me, human. My race has grown strong in the years since your banishment."

His eyes burn with a determined fire, and his face is set in a dangerous expression. I notice that the spines along his spine are standing straight upwards.

"If you wish to harm me, I shall fight," he states. "Do not think I cannot hurt you."

I inhale, trying to get a handle on the situation. He's being oddly defensive, which suggests that he thinks I have the upper hand. It's probably to my advantage if he continues to think that. Of course, if I threaten him, he might just attack me, and then he'll quickly learn that I'm fucking useless.

"Why are you here?" I ask. Figure that's as good of a response as any.

"I have suffered the same punishment as your race," he says, eyes still locked on mine. "Banished from Salia."

Fuck, that means he's probably not a temporary visitor. Well, first things first:

"Why have they banished you?" I ask.

"The same reasons that your race was," he says. "They fear us."

"Us?" I say.

"My clan. Although they stay in ignorant bliss back in their homeland. I was unable to warn them in time—I expect that the council will get to them before the next moon," he says. "We wish no ill blood between us, but we will fight if we must."

"I don't think there's any need," I say, trying to calm him down. "I certainly don't want to hurt you, at least."

"You don't?" He asks, eyes softening a bit.

"No," I say. "I'm... I'm actually just confused as fuck here, I'm going to be honest."

"I suppose that is understandable," he states. His eyes dart around the room.

Him taking the opportunity to observe my room gives me the chance to observe him. He looks fairly stereotypical at first glance. Slightly long neck, covered in scales. Standard dragon stuff.

His horns are pointed straight backwards and come out the back of his flat head. His teeth are not visible when his mouth is closed, which does a lot to help my nerves.

He has a criss-cross pattern on his back scales. Or, at least, I think he does. On closer inspection that's scar tissue. Dude's been through some shit, apparently. Maybe that's why he got banished.

He cough once, wisps of flame flying out his nostrils. Shit, so he really can breathe fire. That's bad-ass. I wonder how that works biologically...

An image of the dragon sprawled on an operating table, surrounded by scientists enters my head. Fuck, other people are going to have that question. The government is going to have that question.

I try to think of my options. Fucking off into the Rocky Mountain National Park and living off the land sounds attractive, but I'd have to convince him to do so first. Plus I don't have a car, and we'd probably get caught by rangers anyway.

I could try to hide him in my room, but that's never going to work. For one, I almost definitely can't afford food for him. Plus he'd probably go fucking crazy cooped up in here. It's a dorm, not a mansion.

So hiding is a non-option, then. So people are definitely going to find out. My best bet is making as many people as possible find out as quickly as possible.

I could record a video and upload it, but that's precious seconds I'd be wasting. It needs to be live.

I turn to face my computer, navigating to OBS. I speak to the dragon as I do so.

"I'm going to do something, OK?" I ask.

"Depends on what it is," he says, voice a bit quieter than it was before.

"Well, see, you're kind of... strange. We don't normally get dragons here. And there's people—powerful people—who may want to cover up the fact you exist," I say. "So I'm going to try to prevent that."

I glance at the dragon, who is not standing up to his full height. About six feet tall. Kind of scary.

"How do you hope to accomplish this?" he asks.

"Well, uh, it's gonna be real hard to convince people you don't exist if a whole shitload of people see you," I reply, pressing the "Go live" button. "Especially if those people are spread across the entire planet."

"Magic, then?" He asks, looking at my screen. "Some sort of signal?"

"Kind of," I reply. "This has a magic eye—or, something similar to a magic eye—inside it. It's right there."

I point at my computer's webcam.

"So I'm going to send the visuals it sees, and the audio it hears, out for anybody who's interested to watch. And that's probably going to be pretty much everybody."

I open Firefox on my computer and navigate to my Twitch dashboard. Let's see... what to title this broadcast.

I decide on "THERE IS A REAL LIFE DRAGON IN MY DORM" and hit enter. The little red light is already lit, so I'm live. Now to promote it a bit.

"Ok, I'm going to quickly alert other people. Just sit tight, ok?" I say. The dragon nods, still staring at my screen.

I navigate my web browser to /tg/, quickly opening the new post box. I title the thread the same thing, copy and paste my twitch stream link in, and select a random image from my dekstop to be the thread picture. It doesn't really matter what I pick, right? Anybody who actually checks out the link is going to go fucking crazy. Hopefully the mods let it stay up for long enough.

I quickly tweet about it as well, just in case. I don't have many followers, but, again, anybody who sees this is gonna retweet it.

That finished, I turn to the dragon. I quickly verify that he's in view, then look at the camera.

"So, uh, I'm Salvator Galianti, and I have made first contact. This is not a viral marketing campaign. This is real. I, uh—This is..."

I glance at the dragon. He notices my expression and quickly decides to bail me out.

"Syralth of clan Golgometh," he states. Shit, hell of a mouthful.

"Syralth. He, uh, he was just sent here. He means no harm. But I think—you know, the Men in Black might be coming for me right now, and I need to get the word out, here," I say, nervously.

"Men in Black?" Syralth asks. "The cultists of the dark lady exist here as well?"

"Uh, well, not—It's a general term to mean people in the government who cover shit up," I reply. "They're not cultists"

"Oh thank the gods," he says, visibly relaxing. "Their non-existence on this plain was one of the few joys I could find in my banishment."

"Well, you can stay relaxed," I say. "There's no dark lady here. Except like, I mean, we have black people, but not—Nevermind."

"Black people?" he asks. "Are they burned?"

"No, that's just their skin color," I respond. "Their ancestors mostly lived in really hot places, and the dark skin helped them avoid getting sun poisoning or burns."

"Hot?" the dragon asks, blinking. "There are places that are... hot, here?"

"Yeah. Lots of 'em," I say. "Hell, come back in eight months, this room is going to be 90 degrees."

"But... Earth is a frozen wasteland," he says. "The ultimate punishment the council hands out."

"Yeah, no," I reply. "It's extremely varied in climate. Maybe like, Canada is a frozen wasteland, but Canada isn't Earth."

On the screen, my viewer count increments from 0 to 4. Near instantly somebody talks in twitch chat:

Froz^e: HOLY FUCK
Froz^e: YOU WEREN'T FUCKING KIDDING

"That is fantastic news," he says. He adjusts his posture, settling down a bit. "They always said Earth was a frozen wasteland."

"They were wrong," I reply.

Froz^e: ASK HIM IF HE WANTS TO FUCK
Froz^e: DO IT FAGGOT

Hm. The internet is going to remain the internet I suppose.

My view counter is now in the dozens, and new voice sjoin Twitch chat.

GibsLoboguy: Holy fuck that's a real dragon
GibsLoboguy: That is a FUCKING REAL LIFE
Gibsloboguy: Holy shit, holy SHIT.
Froz^e: I FUCKING KNOW RIGHT?
Dotahillbilly: This is some viral marketing bullshit. It's obviously pre-recorded.

"It's not prerecorded, Dotahillbily," I say. I turn to Syralth. "Can you say 'I am not a recording', or something? They think you might be a trick."

"I am not a recording," he says, in a flat tone. He's staring at the screen again. "Is that text those who are watching?"

"Yeah," I say. "Those aren't their real names, they are—"

The dragon grunts, flames coming out his nostrils. "They are suggesting we should have sexual intercourse."

"Yeah. The anonymity brings out the worst in people," I say, trying to calm him down. He really, really hates that suggestion, apparently.

Froz^e: FUCKING DO IT YOU FAGGOTS
GibsLoboguy: Knock it the fuck off
Dotahillbilly: Kreygasm
CMPunkero: Fucking fake!

"I am not a fake," the dragon says. "I'm real."

CMPunkero: Yeah, all the bots say that shit
GibsLoboguy: it's fucking real dude
CMPunkero: If you're not a bot say "I love to eat grapefruit and also dragon pussy"

"I love to eat grapefruit and also dragon pussy," the dragon states, a new edge to his voice. "I may also wish to take a bit out of you, you immature cretin."

Dotahillbilly: Kreygasm
Froz^e: REKT
CMPunkero: You could just have some actor. Scratch your fucking face or something.

The dragon brings a claw up to its muzzle, scratching down the side. "Again. I am a legitimate dragon."

The viewer count breaks fifty. According to my dashboard, I am being rehosted on two channels.

Randyman: FUCKING FAKE AND GAY
ShizRope: Holy fuck this GC is good

"It's not computer generated," I say.