[ WP ] You hunt exotic animals that have escaped , after a series of some unfortunate events you are now hunting for a dragon through New York .

I hold the phone to my ear in disbelief. `` Bullshit.'' The voice in my ear keeps talking. `` In Times fucking Square?'' 
 
 Let me give you a bit of backstory. I'm John Kilburn, and I work for the Bureau of Paranormal Activity. And today there's an honest-to-fucking-god dragon flying around Times Square, and I'll bet you any sum of money that people are standing around taking cellphone videos of it. 
 
 My phone rings one more time. `` What is it now?'' 
 
 The desk agent responds, `` You ca n't use your usual equipment. This is too public.'' 
 
 `` What, you want me to kill a dragon with my bare hands?'' I have a multitude of other options: Grenades, plasma rifles, stun guns, a railgun, and a dart gun. Lots of goddamned sci-fi guns to not use. 
 
 With a slight chuckle, he replies, `` No. With a sword.'' 
 
 `` How in the fuck...'' I put my face in my hands in disbelief, `` How in the fuck is killing it with a sword any better?'' 
 
 `` It'll look like you're putting on a show. Tourist attraction or some shit. We'll get you the sword on your way there.'' 
 
 I'm only a few blocks away, so I start running towards Times Square. A block out, an agent stops me and hands me my weapons- a sword and shield. `` Press the button on the sword to energize these.'' 
 
 I do n't even respond- I'm already too pissed off that it's the twenty-first century and I've got to go fight this thing like King fucking Arthur. I just pick up the weapons and go, sprinting until the dragon is in my field of vision. And this is one ugly son of a bitch- brown scaly skin, frail wings, black teeth the size of my hand. I prime my sword and shield- they both hum with blue energy, probably some kind of plasma tech. 
 
 I hear a voice in my earpiece- `` John. The sword is broadcasting an infrasonic signal to attract the dragon.'' 
 
 `` Why in God's name would that be a good idea?'' I glance at the dragon as it starts lumbering towards me. 
 
 There's no response, so I start charging at the dragon, swinging my sword at its chest and making a gash two inches deep. The crowd around us cheers, probably thinking this is some kind of show. The dragon charges again, this time raising a claw against me. I hold my sword straight up, stabbing the dragon through the foot and eliciting a roar of pain, accompanied with a breath of fire. *Of course this asshole can breathe fire*, I thought. 
 
 The dragon decides to try a new tactic, breathing a bolt of fire at me. I barely raise the shield in time and the flames disperse around me, just barely deflected. The dragon starts to flap its wings, slowly but surely rising up into the sky. I jump off an information stand to try and stab it, but it's out of reach- I fall and skid to the ground, my sword scraping the concrete. I look around, wondering how to attack the dragon. 
 
 I decide there's only one way to win this fight before anyone gets hurt- I reach into the inside of my leather jacket, pulling out a small, collapsible gun that extends into a longer rifle. I get on one knee and aim upwards, my eye aligning with the sights. Taking a deep breath, I hold down the trigger, a sustained bolt of plasma burning into the creature's skin. It starts falling slowly at first, then dropping like a rock, crashing to the ground. 
 
 `` Sword and shield, my ass. It's the twenty-first fucking century.'' 
 
 A helicopter comes in to retrieve my quarry, and I disappear into the crowd. A voice comes on in my earpiece, and I ca n't believe what I'm hearing. `` A fucking werewolf? It's the middle of the day!''
