This is another piece submitted by taalismn over on Space Battles and continues the story of everyone's favorite Airborne Trooper turned Dragon...

Small Town Son

Dear Mom,
Glad to hear everybody's doing fine back home. Thanks for forwarding the town newspapers to me; much as I wanted to see the world when I signed up with the Army, it's nice to hear news from the old stomping grounds, especially since I'm on an entirely different PLANET.

Still, I don't believe a word of Robin Duesquene claiming to have seen a fire-breathing dinosaur in the lake he was fishing. Not any more than his previous claims about UFOs and Sasquatch(everybody knows that was old Mister Vladimir), Mothman(Vladimir again), or the Black Helicopters. I'd bet he sees faerie-folk next, except that we have actual faerie-folk over here(they swear like lumberjacks and they're meaner than hornets).

Now, Otis Redfield flipping his SUV over near the Cafe? THAT I can believe. He always drove too fast and thought driving laws were optional. Too much car for too little brains. Maybe a month in a body cast will teach him a lesson. At least nobody else got hurt.

Sad to hear the old Nathaniel place burned down, but then that old gas station and bait shop had been out of business…what….eleven years? Hope somebody managed to salvage the big metal trout from out front; that deserves landmark status.

Maybe Pastor Dale's heard of the enclave or tribe of Christians they found here? I understand it made quite the splashback on Earth. Bet it made for some interesting conversation on his next fishing trip with Rabbi Kahan. Is Dan's PR firm going to make a bid for the Inferni positive image campaign I've heard talk of? That seems the sort of thing right up bro's alley. Can't say I've personally met any of those people yet, but everybody I know who has sez they're really nice people, personality-wise, even though they dress like something out of cousin Marian's leather and lace shop(then again, who am I to judge on even that score, considering these days I go around in nothing but combat webbing?).

Keeping busy here; between my usual duties as a soldier-slash-policeman and my civics work talking to the Dragonkine. They have me talking to a psychiatrist as part of my mental health checkups(I can hear you chuckling, sis!), but I suppose it's a good sign that they have me talking just as much to another group as a senior supervisor(comes with the promotion, I think). As you might have heard, I'm not the only one now in the no-longer-looks-anything-like-his-driver's-license-photo club. We're a pretty fun bunch beyond the commiserating, though it can be somewhat exasperating fending off rumors that we're forming some sort of 'super mutant hero group'. That hasn't been helped any by the fact that more than one of us got offers from that German toy company for our likeness licensing.

Happy to learn that my package got to you, in spite of the quarantine regulations. Guess Pop being a dermatologist with university connections helped and he got in on that original research program, so he could legitimately receive materials from Falmart. Still, it's funny that my molting scraps get home before I can.

Still no word on when I might be able to get home on leave. But then, I do have the dubious distinction of being the textbook example of odd things going on here(or, as my old LT put it; 'being the first dumbass to pick up something he shouldn't have that wasn't a venereal disease' ), and they want to be absolutely certain the weirdness doesn't spread back to Earth. . However, there is hope; they're learning more about things here, and I understand there's been some small trade and traffic going on, and even some immigration back to Earth. Though the logistics of me coming back to the States are admittedly somewhat problematic.

Give my best to Granny and everybody else back home. Desiree sends her greetings as well; she wants me to assure you that she is indeed 'keeping me out of trouble and making sure I do my homework'(though I suspect she's in it for the cookies as much as anything else now).

Your loving son,
Anson Owens(Srgt)
—Somewhere in the 'Special Region'

Dear Ans,
Glad to hear from you again! Yes, we've been following the Pacific Alliance on the news, what they will tell us, that is. We even saw some footage of you(though they didn't name you, but how many other golden dragons are there over there?) during the earthquake relief effort over there. Granny's so proud of you! Sez it reminds her of Grandpa's work in Europe after the war. You're working alongside female knights, elves, orcs, and wolfmen now? We have to keep the magazines on the 'Special Region' from being stolen off the library shelves!

And yes, the Schatze representatives came by our house in person to show us some of the models they were testing, just to see if we had any input before they presented anything at the big toy show on the West Coast in a couple of months. Wanted to see some of your 'before' photos too. Your sister's pretty happy about helping out, but I think she's aiming to acquire a collector's item or two. Your little sister, the budding investment capitalist. We passed a copy of their likeness-licensing contract to Dan to look over, him knowing a thing or two about imagery and copyrights, and he thinks it looks pretty good.

We also got a visit and invite to a new online support group the Army's got for families of service personnel that, as you put it, "no-longer-look-anything-like-their-drivers'-license-photo". Kind of awkward at first, what with nobody wanting to be first to ask 'well, what does your family member turn into?", but then we got into the usual chatter about how much we all miss you and what you all aren't (allowed to) telling us. And exchanging ideas about what to get you all over there.

Haven't heard anything specifically about the Inferni from Pastor Dale, though he DID light out on a long fishing trip a bit earlier than usual with Rabbi Kahan. And dear Mr. Cohen from down the street asked me in passing the other day, perhaps in jest, if you heard anything about any lost tribes of Israel over there?

Your combat webbing comment; I'd normally be wondering what the heck you're doing wandering around naked, but then I remember what you're wearing for a birthday suit these days. And Granny recites that old story about your grand-uncle Billy fighting the Japanese in nothing but a helmet. But what are you going to do about formal uniform?

Speaking of skin. Yes, your father's ecstatic about getting a piece of your skin, but you remember how he was about finding snake skins on our hiking trips? Well, he got enough for some lab work as per the conditions of the 'specimen release', but his colleagues couldn't begrudge him keeping the best piece for himself. So he has a swatch of your scales encased in lucite hanging on his den wall at home…thing is, we think it GLOWS in the dark sometimes. Still, it reminds us, in a strange way, that you're still out there. Mind you, it's no substitute for you being here in person, so we're disappointed too that they're not letting you rotate home on leave. Not that we haven't made a few inquiries about how it could be done. We're getting quite the education in international air freight in the process.

Anyway, continue to 'stay out of trouble and do your homework'(thank Desiree for making the effort, but assure her that we won't think any the less of her if she can't keep up on that! And we won't cut her off the cookie list. ). Granny's suggested passing along some choice Latin insults you can try using on those 'pseudo-Romans', but for the sake of decency I'm not. You're doing us all proud here!

Your loving Mother,
Trisca Owens(Mother)
—Ironwood, Michigan

A/N: That's the appetizer. A full chapter will be up shortly!