He sat there, staring out of his window like he always did. He absentmindedly stroked the back of his pet Scaling, a rare breed he developed himself. The company he worked for after the Redburg Incident, Warrin Enterprises, gave it to him as a retirement gift for his loyalty and dedication to the company. The small lizard’s bony spines shimmered in the sun from the window. His automated chair hummed in idle mode, but as I walked in, Grandpa snapped out of his trance. His Scaling squawked at him as he stopped petting, and spat a flurry of angry noises as it flapped out of the suddenly moving chair. Grandpa waved the temperamental creature away, as the Scaling roosted in its special cage, its two spindly legs tucked underneath its wings.

"Hush up, Tycho." he said irritably, as he rolled forward. He looked at me expectantly, as I hung up my bag. "Well? How’d the presentation go?" he said, his eyes bright with the hope that his help had secured me at least the B+ I needed to pass.

My eyes watered slightly as I turned to him. All the embarrassment and self-loathing I had held up inside of me began to show, as a tear rolled down my cheek.

"I... I forgot the works cited." I said, a little sob escaping after I finished. His bright eyes faded into their own sadness and compassion.

"Oh, dear... Can you still pass?"

I nodded. "She wants me to make another presentation on the feeding habits and anatomy of Redbacks for full credit."

Grandpa’s bright, cheerful self returned. "Hah! If there’s any of my creations I know best, it’s the Redback. They were the first fully unique breed I engineered, and the one I had the heaviest hand in designing." he said, as he rolls over to a picture of him, standing in front of his first Redback. They affectionately named him Smaug, after the fire wyrm from an old book his team and him read in school. It was called the Hobbler, or something like that.

"I know, Grandpa, but before we jump straight into the project this weekend, can we get some food first?" I asked as my stomach put forth a mighty protest to the notion of more work. He grinned, a devilishly sly expression, and nodded.

"Come on. Put your shoes back on. We’re going out to eat. To celebrate the boundless generosity of Mrs. Ballinger." he said, slipping on his coat, making sure it fell between his back and his chair.

I drove through the streets, which were surprisingly empty for 2:30 pm. Grandpa was fastened in the passenger seat next to me, absentmindedly drumming along to the song on the radio. The song ended, leaving Grandpa content in his jollity. The announcer returned to the radio.

"That was Frank Frender, sitting at number 3 in the charts. Coming up next is Tabby Adders with her new hit, The Worst You Could Do To Me. But first, it’s Flockwatch, with John Jay."

John began speaking, and I turned it up. These flockwatches were almost essential to survival nowadays. They let everyone in the area know what kinds of flocks were coming, when they were coming, and how many were coming. If we didn’t have them, we could wake up one morning with a giant group of Adder Wyverns roosting in your city, or a Redback Wyrm tearing through your apartment.

"Good afternoon, Detroit! For tonight’s Flockwatch, we’ve got a small flock of Northern Blackbelts coming in around 5:00, and two Redbacks possibly headed this way tomorrow morning. The CDF has already mobilized three teams to deter or destroy. Now, back to today’s hits, with no stops. This is 99.7, the Tower." The music returned, and so did grandpa’s drumming as I turned onto Woodward Avenue. After riding along, and finally encountering some traffic, we pulled into Youngman’s Coney Island. I knew Grandpa would want to eat here, and so did I, for two reasons: One: their cheesesteak fries were to die for. Two: Jackson Jay was to die for. He was the Coney’s waiter, and one of the smartest guys in my school. He played hockey, wanted to major in biology, and he was one of my best guy friends. Now, I just had to get past being friends. There lay the difficulty.

I slid into the booth across from the kitchen, with Grandpa rolling up on the other side. The waitresses affectionately keep that side chair free just for him, since we’re such regulars.

“The usuals for both you?” Darla said, her usual callousness with most customers melted away when talking to us. She had tied her loose red hair back in a bandana, covering her hidden hair net.

“Yup. Large cheesesteak fries, and the 5:00 special, Pepsi and coffee, extra sugar, no cream.” I instantly recited from pure memory. She tenderly smirked, and slammed the order sheet onto the spike.

“I need a Big Cheese and a 5:00!” she screamed into the kitchen. She then circled back, and gently put the drinks onto the table. Grandpa gently picked up his coffee, and took two gentle sips. He sighed contentedly, and put the cup back on the table.

“Now, what would you like to know about the Redback Wyrms?” Grandpa queried, as he lightly stroked his stark white beard. The hanging lights above us reflected dimly off his bald spot, but not enough to deter my sight.

“Well, let’s start with feeding habits, I suppose.”

Grandpa smirked. “I had a feeling you’d want this part out of the way first.”

“Redbacks are the biggest known breed of dragon to date. They are iconically recognized by the huge red stripe of scales running down their backs, along with a black, brown, white, or red body, depending on the region they hail from. Most Redback species are cold-blooded, and therefore migrate alongside most other dragons. South for winter, north for summer. These behemoths were the reason the protection domes were invented and installed. They grow up to 20 meters for their median height, and up to 60 meters long. Their wingspans reached up to 80 meters. They also sported the biggest flame sacs of any dragon breeds, filled to the brim with flammable gases of all compositions. They have eight electric nodes behind their massive teeth, just to be sure all the gas ignited. They mate in solitary pairs, and never travel in known packs. The pair either hunts or cares for young in intervals of 4 to 7 days, like eagles. To kill their prey, which ranges from African elephants to orcas depending on the habitat, they would either A: Roast it alive, or B: Dive-bomb it, crushing the animals with the force of the drop. They’ll eat their share at the kill sight, then carry the carcass back to their dens and feed their mate and young. The only factor that kept these immense titans from exterminating all life, was simply the fact that, while they lay about twenty eggs per nest, they take upwards of three years to incubate. Add in the pre-hatching mortality rates, and you only get about three per nest, after three years of waiting. This helped balance out the population to a great extent. Now, their anatomy is a peculiar one. They have four linked stomachs, and the best digestive system of any known animal. They can eat pure steel, and live off the iron in it for a good week before needing to feed again. Their muscles are so strong, they could snap a man’s body in half just by a wayward tail slap. Their scales take all the ingested iron mentioned earlier, and reinforce their scales even more, making them bulletproof to anything under or equal to an AK-47. This is why you see so many gun companies manufacturing “Redback Rifles”, these giant, shoulder-mounted cannons, just for killing my beautiful creations! Why, if I didn’t know better-“

“Grandpa, you’re on a tangent again.” I said, stopping him short. He sighed, and laughed.

“The price of passionate speech, I suppose. Will that help you start?” He asked, as our food hit the table.

I grinned, picking up a gooey fresh fry, slathered in golden goodness, and meaty ecstasy. “Most definitely.”

“ANNIE!” I looked up, and saw her standing there. Brown boots, black leggings, the red and black plaid flannel, pulled back black hair, the brown doe eyes, all culminating together into 5 feet and 8 inches of trouble. I could spot Dianne Hanaway out of a crowd any day of the week. She shuffled inside quickly, drifting up next to my seat, using it to help her from sliding too far past. She almost spilled her coffee, which for her would have been a first. She cared for her caffeine as though it were her child.

“I need such a big favor right now!” She said, plopping next to me in the booth. This was going to be either A: Really easy, or B: The biggest mistake of my young, 17 year old life I’d made yet.