Hello, World of FanFiction!
I'm proud to present my first requested story,----, My friend Dj Dragoon hit me up for a request, and I was totally up for it.
Yes folks- I take requests, and quite eagelry, I might add. Please, let me know if you'd like one for yourself!
Disclaimer: Credit goes to DJ Dragoon for story idea, plot, and such. All Original Characters belong to Dj Dragoon.
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"Look at my glorious child. Already breathing his first flame."
With a long smile firm on her blackened snout, a dragon mother was adoring at her young child. The baby dragon was cooing and spitting up gobs of thick saliva, occasionally spewing tiny embers from his snout, his scales black like his mother's. The mother laughed softly and picked up her child, smiling at him and waving him in the air. The baby giggled uncontrollaby, burping flames in the face of his mother. The flames were much too small to affect the woman, and she continued to play with her baby.
Duraiis, as this particualr race of dragon was called, were not even closely realted to the mannerisms of the mother and her baby. The Durrais used to be a proud race, known for their brilliant tactics of war and the many great sieges they held in the day of old. But, time went on, and as the universe industrialized, so did the Duraii. Their governments were almost always unstable, leading to many a riot and civil war. Today, most are deranged, bloodthirsty criminals in search of a quick way to make coinage, and some are just maniacs among themselves. There are not many Duraiis left in the universe, as their brute tactic, explosive government, and slow reproduction rate had their popluation decreasing at a very rapid pace. And ever since the D.E.M.O.N. Elite Force of the Duraii Armed Forces was initiated about 17 years ago, things have never been the same for the once glorious race of dragons.
But this happened to be one of the lucky families. The mother and the child fled from the clutches of the D.E.M.O.N. program in their home planet to the vast and beautiful Corneria, where there was stability, freedom of practically everything, and mainly, peace.
The child however, was unpredicted. The mother was raped sometime before their escape, and she became pregnant. Since the rate of production of Duraii were extremely low, the mother considered her child a miracle, even if it wasn't planned, or wanted in the first place.
But she had no regrets now. She loved her baby more then anything in the galaxy. Her little Crimson, her job, and her small apartment was all she had, but she would gladly give up anything for the sake of her child.
"I think it's time for a nap, darling," she cooed to Crimson, nuzzling their black snouts together. Crimson giggled, burped a little, and flapped his tiny red wings in delight. He had no idea what nap meant, but as long as Mommy was happy, Crimson knew he would be fine.
The mother laid the squirming child in its flame-proof crib, and she tucked him in slowly, singing a soft lullaby. She stroked Crimson's developing red hair, and smiled. Soon, the baby was asleep, and the mother's job was done for the night.
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-- C --
A loud crash from the front room.
Men yelling, a woman screaming.
Pleas, cries, more yelling.
Laser blasts.
Bright lights.
Darkness.
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"Sir! We've arrived with the targets."
"Very good men, at ease. Ugh, look at this scum. What are they called again? Dry Eyes?"
"Duraiis, sir."
"Eh, they're scum either way. Dispose of the mother. We want the child."
Screams again.
Laser fire.
A dull thud.
Men talking.
Demon? Where's Mommy?
Darkness once more.
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-- C --
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The rays of the newborn sun skimmed the scaled eyes of the dragon.
Crimson awakened abruptly, the rays hurting his eyes. He sat up in his little bed, wearily pushing the old, green curtain over the snow-covered window. He layed back down, and let his thoughts race around his mind.
Crimson was much older now. He had turned 20 not too long ago. He had developed into a tall, black dragon, with a red underbelly and long, scaly tail. His wings were matted to his back from sleeping on them all night, which was extremely uncomfortable. It didn't affect him much now though, as he rarely ever used or showed his wings very often.
With a grunt, he shifted up and out of bed, and to the kitchen. He opened his shanty fridge to find that he had no food. Grunting again, he headed for his closet.
Crimson had become very reclusive ever since his childhood, of when he could start recalling memories. The kidnapping, the tests, the anger and tears, the horrible pain and mutilation, the black periods of his memory, the sinister urges...
And Mom.
Crimson snuffed, letting embers spew out if his snout. He tried to shake off the flashbacks as best he could, throwing on his black overcoat. He pulled his black hood over his head, slipped on some gloves, pushed the two red bangs out of his face, and walked out the front door.
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Well, it's my first request fic. Please tell me how you liked it, and if anyone wants requests, let me know!
Again, credit goes to DJ Dragoon for story concept/plot/OC's
-SOTR
