Scott stood upon his chair and tapped at his keyboard in an effort to find more information about either professional titles, or racial-shifts. Very little in the way of useful information was forthcoming, and frankly it was a pain in the ass to type with his claws.

A return to human form was in order if he wished to interact properly with his environment. However, there was a sense of uncertainty that continued to plague his mind. He was no longer human, physically. Humanity had done little to give him reason to want to be part of their continued racial shenanigans. Quite frankly, if he could buy or make furniture fit properly for his current size he would do so.

Originally, upon awaking to his current state he balked at the concept of being a dragon on Earth. It was nothing more than his ingrained sense of normalcy fighting back against a sudden change, however. In truth, now that he knew that he could become human when needed there was no burning desire to do so. The form had its uses, but no matter what shape he took he would always still be himself. At any rate, being a dragon was fun.

A soft sigh escape his draconic lips. The scales of his mouth shifted into a smile that was both wistful and predatory in the same instance. "I don't have to continue to work at Archers."

The predatory smile faded after a moment, only to be replaced by an expression of confusion. Albeit one that also made him look hungry. There were truly only so many ways to contort a draconic face, after all. For the last few years he belly-ached and secretly enjoyed a fantasy wherein he set the place on fire just for the sexual thrill. Now that he had evidence of the possibility that he could be free of the place permanently, he hesitated.

Accustomed to being alone, Scott was used to the idea of speaking to himself on important matters. Now proved to be an opportune time to do so.

"You know, I spend so much time hating that place and everything in it. Why do I hesitate to quit?" Part of him wanted to claim that the dream world was finicky and might flake out on him. It would be smarter to amass a fortune in real world currency just in case the gods, or whatever, called the whole thing off.

He knew the truth without speaking it, however. Given how much he despised the place, he should be jumping for joy. The hated employment that he despised so much was no longer an actual concern. There was precious little joy in him at the moment in regards to Archers.

Searching inward for some sign as to why he felt uneasy, his thoughts inevitably turned to one conclusion. It was the randomly spawning monsters mentioned in the recent updates to his life.

Did he try to find a way to warn people that it would happen? So far he saw nothing about it online. There was not even a whisper of a thread on any of the forums that he frequented. In truth, there should have been people at least joking about the possibility of a coming apocalypse. The dream world notifications certainly were not shy about the supposed changes that would eventually come to the world.

In many ways it was almost like people were avoiding the topic altogether, or worse, something was making them avoid it.

Scott lightly tapped his cheek with his right foreclaw. "Now that I think about it... other than the Internet and television, highly impersonal things prone to propaganda, I've seen very little discussion about the dream world in real life."

His slitted eyes widened slowly. "Indeed. After the first few days, people seem to have just stopped mentioning it much at all. The first day or two that stuff was everywhere..."

The little dragon mused on the topic for a moment. It was like people somehow did not think it was important once they woke up. "That makes no sense, though."

Something about the situation felt wrong, even sinister. His little town was not the entire world, but even so there should be someone discussing it openly. Was it a conspiracy? Did the gods, or what have you play with the people's heads and make them unconcerned with discussing things?

Thoughts continued to flow in a steady stream through his mind. One thought in particular rose swiftly to the surface. Was he simply too immersed in his own misery to notice the concerns of other people?

The realization that there might not be a conspiracy at all, that the reason he had not been directly involved in dream world conversations might be because he was not involved in real life that much in the first place. If anything, he avoided becoming close to anyone in the real world. The very idea of it was unsettling.

Scraggles and his advice in the dream world came to mind. He advised Blackthorne to live in the world, if he wanted to grow stronger as a part of it. Scott searched his reptilian brain for things that he missed, conversation snippets that might have proved the world was not as he considered it.

As the moments passed he began to realize that there were in fact little snippets of conversations here and there that he heard in passing. He tuned them out because people were horrible, and he wanted no part of them.

"It really was me all along, huh? So busy distancing myself from the world around me that I forgot that I am an inalienable part of it..." Scott frowned slightly, and in a manner that only a dragon might frown. As much as he hated to admit it, the unsettling feeling whenever he thought to quit Archers was not actually a mysterious thing. His job was possibly his only real connection to other living people in this world. Perhaps now that he was no longer human physically, there was a chance to properly reflect. No longer forced to live as a rusted cog of the machine known as humanity in a world of inhumanity, he could now see a few of the obvious truths that blinded him previously.

For the longest time he blamed people. He was merely a child when his world fell apart. Yet, everyone around him blamed him. He was the bad seed. The creature who professed to be his step-father performed the most heinous thing a man in that position might do, and yet he was considered the victim. Determined to be unstable mentally, belligerent, and prone to violent outbursts that would endanger lives, a little boy was taken away by society and made to live like an animal. He was not to be trusted, only re-educated.

Few people had tried to help him, his father's old partner on the force, and a local pastor who passed away while Scott was in juvie. No one else wanted to help. Even his own mother sided with the thing that brutalized his sister.

Utilizing his newfound distance from humanity, it was easier to see the flaws in his memories. He absolutely did not forgive anyone for the crimes they perpetrated against him. However, holding onto all of that guilt and hatred did nothing useful.

Scott's self-realization came with a sudden blinding headache that caused him to clutch the sides of his head. Dark whispers, the voices which had been intermittently silent and lackadaisical at times began to speak with their previous nature. He fell to the floor and ground his teeth together as images of his past bombarded his psyche. Reminders of how cruel other people could be flooded into his consciousness. The memory of his sister's broken corpse, and the way everyone involved blamed him for what had happened even though he clearly had not harmed her himself, become prominent reminders of the past.

Several minutes passed as the assault on his mind continued. People knew that he was garbage. It was best to stay away. They despised him for what he did.

Once the flashbacks and hateful self-recriminations passed, he continued to lie on the floor for a few more minutes. Dragons, it seemed, could also cry. Tears leaked from his slitted eyes as the shock of forced remembrance took its toll on his mind and body. 

Exhausted, the little dragon climbed back into his chair then shut down his computer. After another moment of silent reflection he blew out a breath then hopped out of his chair like an overly fat cat. The past was done. He needed to live with the consequences, and people were not going to stop being garbage just because he changed his race. If anything they would try to put him in a cage. The best thing to do was just continue with his life as normal for a time while making money moves for the future.

Hungry, Scott dragon-waddled over to the refrigerator then looked up at the freezer high above. "Really?"

He refused to take on his human form at the moment, though he did absently decide that he would need to purchase a mini-fridge in the future. He persevered, however. The little dragon grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the refrigerator. Once in position, he climbed up then reached for the freezer.

"Really?" he groused when his outstretched claws came up a little short.

Undeterred he hopped down then went to his kitchen sink. Scott flung himself upward and latched onto the counter top. He pulled himself up while kicking his little legs against the counter. Once he managed to scramble on top, he rooted around in his dish strainer and came up with a metal spatula. "Oh yes. Victory will be mine."

Scott stood next to the chair for a moment and looked up at his overly tall nemesis. "Make this easy on yourself. Give me what I want."

The freezer proved belligerent and would not speak to him at all. Scott narrowed his eyes. "So be it. The time has come."

He hopped onto the chair, spatula in paw, and then rose up as tall as he could. His little paws still did not manage to reach. "No, not this time. Your unassailable heights will not save you. Your treasures will be mine!"

The little dragon wiggled the spatula under the freezer door and managed to leverage it open. A cold blast of air washed over him. He snorted derisively. "Your arctic breath attack is no match for me, my ancient foe. Accept your fate. The end of our struggle is nigh."

In search of faux-Mexican food he stabbed at the heart of the frost beast with his mighty spatula. "Aha! I got something!" He pulled his spatula back and muttered. "Frozen garden peas? When did I buy that?"

He grumbled slightly and continued to fish around inside while in search of his prey. Several more items were drawn forth, each a different item that he knew he did not purchase. Briefly, he considered the oddity of such then he sighed. "Shara must have gone grocery shopping for me while I was asleep... I really need to thank her, and get new locks on my doors."

It was difficult to be angry with her, but her heinous acquisition of mere vegetables granted his frosty foe too much power to deny him his due. Several minutes were spent on attempts to retrieve his desired prey were met with frustration.

"This will not stand! Victory will be mine!" he cried aloud. Using his spatula, he forced the freezer door open all the way then leapt upward and pulled himself forward into the freezer.

"You fool! You thought it would be a spatula, but it was me, Scott!" He clapped his little reptilian paws together briefly then reached out and slowly stroked the interior of the freeze. Soon, he released a sinister hissing laugh then spoke in a dark whisper. "I'm inside you now..."

Ridiculous, and insidious, laughter at an end he returned to the task at hand. "Now then... to acquire my precious."

He had to kick the door away lightly a few times while he searched, but soon he found the treasure over which this glorious battle had been fought. Victory in hand, he tossed his treasure onto the nearby counter then hopped out of the freezer.

Scott climbed up to where his meal resided, took it in hand then leapt across the great kitchen divide and landed on the counter-top that was next to his sink. Nearby, his head chef awaited the ingredients for the feast. He opened a cabinet overhead and took out a plate. His treasures were placed atop it in preparation. Once he was ready, Scott opened the head chef, placed his meal in side, and then closed the door.

He bid the head chef finish the matter in four minutes, and with a loud hum the master began his work He spent the next few minutes hopping from counter to counter while he prepared condiments for the feast. Scott refused to simply eat his treasure without some sort of hot sauce after such a victory. He was not an animal, after all.

Once the head chef finished his labor, the time of the feast was at hand. Dinner at stately Blackthorne manor was now served.

Scott sat next to his head chef and sighed warmly as he took a bite of his sweet treasure. "Man, these are some good ass burritos," he said while making strangely adorable little *nom-nom* sounds. He squirted a little sriracha sauce into his plate then lightly dipped his burrito. His eyes closed gently and he acquired a blissful expression. Victory tasted good, still lukewarm in the middle, but good