Mark Andrews sat staring across the barren landscape, gloved hand shielding his eyes from the bright, hot sun. His long brown hair danced quickly across his face, playing in the light breeze. As he brushed the auburn strands away from his clear green eyes, Mark could plainly see the shape of a large dragon in the distance.
The thing was flying low to the ground, firing off great bouts of flame. Against the waves of heat floating up from the sand, Mark could just make out the glint of metal. Studying the scene closer, he concluded that it was a vehicle, most likely some poor wanderers being harassed by one of the winged beasts that ruled the sky. That just would not do.
Mark turned around and took a few steps towards the yellow Yamaha Enduro DT 400 dirt bike that waited for him. Swinging one leg over his noble steed, Mark kicked started the engine and put the bike into gear. As his right wrist twisted the throttle, warming up the machine, his left hand pulled a pair of dirty goggles from the pocket of his leather bomber jacket and fitted them over his head. Mark pulled his feet off the ground, released the foot brake, and shot off across the Arizona desert.
Rocks and red dirt flew past; the air whistled by his ears. Still Mark pushed hard on the throttle, working as much power out of the bike as he thought it could give. The distance between himself and the wanderer-pursuing dragon decreased rapidly. The orange balls that tormented the fleeing humans grew larger, as did the dragon. Mark could see now that the vehicle was an old army jeep, and that the occupants were firing handguns at the monster in foolish hope of defeating it.
As the space between the Jeep and the Yamaha shriveled away, Mark risked releasing the handlebars with one hand and reached to the side of his bike, pulling from there a two-foot section of metal pipe. Holding this at shoulder level, he clicked a small lever with his middle finger and the two-foot cylinder became and eight-foot spear, springing out with a metallic resonance. The gap closed, time seemed to speed ever faster, and Mark urged his bike still faster.
He was a firm believer in the saying "Everything happens for a reason." So when the ground angled upwards into what can only be described as a ramp and Mark found himself flying through the air, he knew that he was either here to die or to kill a big lizard.
Time stood still. The bike was in mid-air, just above the dragon's head. The dragon had its mouth open; fumes spewed from its lower jaw towards the Jeep below. Mark held his weapon in both hands now, using all the strength in his arms to drive the point downwards.
The spearhead connected with reptilian flesh, and time assumed its normal speed. Mark was pulled from his bike, the spear being firmly lodged in the dragon's skull. His body was whipped around through the air and he landed with a sickening crunch on the rocky ground. The dragon shrieked and lashed its head about for a moment before falling to the ground, rear leg still twitching.
Through the black haze that was rapidly becoming his vision, Mark Andrews saw the grimy faces of three men standing over him. Loud noises filled his ears, and somewhere in his mind he knew that the men were talking to him. Then everything went black, and Mark remembered nothing.
