The Almost Report's Almost Dragonic Brand World(tm) View

[Wyvern]

A circular timer with a “stand by” screen as a backdrop beeps its way through the 687 seconds displayed at its center, its cycles spinning at an extra sluggish pace sure to piss off even the most patient of viewers. Once the timer has run out and several more minutes have passed, the words “Almost Dragonic Brand Emergency Broadcast Extortion System™” begin flashing across the screen with more than a few subliminal advertisements snuck in-between. The visuals eventually cut to a view of a messy room flooded with stacks of paper similar to the Recruiter’s Office, though the layers of dust and cobwebs rival even the oldest of unattended Pen applications. The news cameras pass by several well placed stacks of papers resembling a desk and several taller stacks resembling a wardrobe before reaching a smaller stack similar to a stool, where Wyvern sits with a manila folder in claw. The overgrown lizard creases the folder shut and adjusts the hypnotic swirl tie over his infomercial suit, the bright blues of the fabric contrasting sharply with his crimson scales. Wyvern nods and stares towards the cameras with a steely look of determination, then lifts himself to his feet only to fall backwards as the papers supporting him tumble into a shapeless mass behind him. The cameras move in to stare down at Wyvern, only to find the reptilian reporter grinning in an effort to maintain his almost dragonic “dignity.”

 

“Errr… We interrupt your regularly ssscheduled programs for a ssspecial message from the Almost Report.” Wyvern spreads his arms and wings, stretching the collar of his suit and creating little angel shapes in the floor papers that surround him. Or were they devil shapes? “Reporting to you from Archive bot’s quarters, in an effort to dig through the archives for a proper view of an Almost Dragonic Brand World.™ Let’sss take a look-see, shall we?”

 

Wyvern shifts up to his feet with some effort and grins, holding his manila folder up high so that all the viewers can see. His tail flicks left and right, piercing and potentially damaging old archived Pen works with his stinger.

 

“Now I’m ssssure you’ve heard rumorsss of the world being saved, or the world coming to an end, but the contentsss of this folder will prove these theoriesss false.” Wyvern thwaps the folder with a claw and grins. “So in case watching the local succubus (or watching people wrestle over the local succubus) didn’t rid your thoughtsss of false notionsss, this document is certain to turn your world view in an almost dragonic direction.”

 

Wyvern grins and holds the folder up higher still, marveling at its shape and grinning over the masses of easily influenced viewers that its contents are bound to brainwash. The overgrown lizard cackles with a single beat of his wings, churning a small flurry of dust and papers behind him as his eyes stay locked on the folder.

 

“And now, without further ado, I presssent to you evidence that an Almost Dragonic Brand World™ is the only view worth profiting off of.” Wyvern licks his lips as a drum roll cues up in the background, slowly opening the folder with the edge of one of his claws. “The end-all schemer’s philosophy, the undisputed truth about gelding… Behold!”

 

Wyvern opens the folder, only to have his jaw drop as a gust of wind blows the single sheet of paper inside it into the air. The reptilian Elder lunges for the document but slips on a sheet of paper detailing the ways that the world has been saved, stumbling forward and crash-landing. The vital document is lost within the storm of papers that follow Wyvern’s flailing limbs, and the cameras go white with old Pen works before refocusing on the fallen almost dragon.

 

“Ugh.” Wyvern squirms about until he manages to sit up, and immediately begins digging for his document in what’s obviously a lost cause. “We were gonna wish both Nyyark and Kokuryuu a happy belated as well… perhapsss we could invite’em over to feather dust, or burn the place down if necessssary?”

 

The news cameras turn their lenses to the floor in disapproval.