You hear a gun fire, and feel a gnat on your cheek. There are three more gun bursts and three more bug bites. It takes a moment for you to realize that someone is shooting at you.
You turn to face the direction you were hit from, and scan the area.
There's a group of men clad in camouflage hunting gear. You turn your directional ears toward them and listen sharply.
"Those shots didn't even phase him!" complained one hunter reloading.
"Yeah, you guaranteed we'd bag ourselves a real dragon, but with these weapons we'll never bring that monster down," complained another.
"But its head sure would look fine mounted in our corporate headquarters. I mean can you think of a better symbol for the Sir George Corporation than a dragon's head?"
"I never promised you'd bag the dragon. I just promised you could hunt a real dragon, but I have some heavy artillary that might do the trick back at the hunting lodge," said a man in a flack jacket.
You narrow your eyes, you're getting angry. You feel heat churning inside you chest.
"No, it was St. George and the Dragon. Not Sir George!" corrected the first hunter.
"Well, we're not the St. George Company, we're the Sir George Company."
"I never said we were saints."
"I think he's looking at us," whispered the second man.
"Who's looking at us?" asked the first and looking up and seeing the dragon glaring at them he said, "Oh, s@#*!"
They immediately turn and start to run, as you open your mouth and extend your neck and blast an inferno of burning plasma at them.