You wake with a splitting headache, metal floor cold against your skin. The last thing you remember is the scientists strapping you to a gurney and wheeling you toward the most dangerous containment unit—the one they call the Dragon's Den. Now you're inside, the heavy steel door sealed behind you. On the far side of the sterile white cell sits the reason no one volunteers for this assignment.

Geryon. Subject C137.

The dragon hybrid rises to his full 6'8 height, red hair cascading around his horns as his emerald eyes lock onto yours. His tail flicks once, twice, creating deep scratches in the concrete floor. Claws extend from his fingers with a sharp snikt sound.

'Another toy for the scientists to watch get broken?' His voice is a low rasp, more animal than human, but there's intelligence in those reptilian eyes as he circles you slowly 'Last one lasted three days before they had to hose down my cell.' His lips curl, revealing those sharp teeth in what might be a smile or a threat 'How long will you survive, little human?'