dinohigh, no humans allowed!

I worked my whole life by myself. I never had anyone to help me. No one was there to catch me when I fell.
And now I'm here—Dino High. And its associated mega-cities and neighborhoods. It was once a shining beacon of the best and brightest dinosaurs had to offer. But now? It's a fucking shithole.
Everyone who was anyone went here. They lived here and made this place great. And soon, the smell of wealth and prosperity flooded the noses of everyone else, and they wanted a piece of the pie. People came here looking to get famous. To get rich.
They found nothing.
People come here to find a better life. They often get caught in the webs of corruption, urban decay, and the weight of their own ambition—their inflated self-image and ego that dinosaurs are so famous for. The "superior race." When left to their own devices, they devour one another.
By the people who were just like them. By those who came before them. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there.
They'd call themselves tragic. Unfortunate. Victims of the system. But all of that's deflection. It's an easy way to hide their own greed and avarice—to ignore the fact that they wanted more than what was theirs. That it was never enough for them. It wasn't enough to be born the master race. To be born a dinosaur. No, they had to be the superior dinosaur.
Anon walked past rows of illegal housing—makeshift slums they called favelas. They were painted in bright colors, as if that could hide how ragged and disgusting they were. The stench of the open sewer that snaked through them smelled better than this place. This was the Dino Side, where at least the government offered social welfare programs and assistance to get "sturdier" materials. But all that achieved was this garbage pile of poorly constructed, zero-skill, incompetent excuses for dwellings.
And they learned the hard way: dinos don't play fair. When they're done cheating everyone else in the game of life, they cheat their own. And if you're naive enough to reach out and help them? You deserve what you get in return.
You deserve to be betrayed. To be used as just another stepping stone for a dinosaur. To be discarded. That was the lot in life for us non-dinos.
Sure, there were fools who believed some dinosaurs were "good." But I knew the truth. They were all working together to fuck us over. They weren't a monolith, they weren't all the same...but they didn't need to be. They played unfair but abided by each other's rules when it came to screwing over everyone else. It was in their nature to lie, cheat, and steal.
Further down, there were even more run-down, desolate tents belonging to non-dinosaurs. They could never stay in one place. They were constantly forced out of parks, parking lots, under bridges, bus stops, or the sides of roads. There was no place for non-dinos. Just like in the world we lived in. This was the dinos' world. We just lived in it.
But I didn't feel bad for them. Were they really so naive as to think dinos would share?
They were dinosaurs. It was simply a part of them.
Anon walked past a row of dinosaurs waiting in line for the soup kitchen. The old, dirty streets stretched in every direction, flanked by rotting apartment buildings that seemed to sag under their own neglect. Trash cluttered the cracked sidewalks, and the smell of unwashed bodies mingled with the stench of burnt oil and something vaguely metallic.
The dinos themselves were a sorry sight. Ragged, dirty, and defeated, they stood in a line that snaked around the block. Only dinos. Not a single non-dino in sight. That detail, strangely, didn't make Anon feel much better.
These were dinosaurs—born the dominant species, the "superior race." Yet, despite every natural advantage, they squandered it. They didn't strive for greatness; they just leaned on their species' legacy as if it were enough to carry them. The truth was, it wasn't. Being born the winner wasn't enough these days. And these dinos, standing here, waiting for a handout like it was owed to them, were living proof of that.
The crowd was a mix of all sizes and species, each with a story of failure written in their slouched shoulders and downcast eyes. Some looked local; others seemed foreign, their accents sharp and unfamiliar when they occasionally mumbled to one another. Among them were young students in worn uniforms, children who had likely run away from abusive homes, grizzled construction workers with dirt still caked under their claws, old mechanics and cabbies whose faces were etched with soot and despair.
Some had cars, vans, or motorhomes parked along the curb, makeshift shelters for the "half-homeless." Others had nothing but the threadbare clothes on their backs. It was a grim, patchwork community of desperation.
Near the front of the line was a girl handing out bowls of soup. She stood out immediately. Her bright, bubbly demeanor was jarringly out of place in this grim setting. She moved with an almost theatrical energy, her tail swaying in time with her movements as she ladled soup with one hand and smiled radiantly at each recipient.
She was a Velafrons hadrosaur, with smooth beige skin like cookie dough and green eyes that sparkled with charisma. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, strands escaping to frame her face. She looked clean, educated, refined—even saintly. The sort of dinosaur people might describe as having a "heart of gold."
Anon frowned. He remembered these types.
When I was poor, when I had nothing, they never let me have a bowl, he thought. I wonder if they'd let me now...
The thought stuck with him. He had always wanted to see what their food tasted like. Curiosity gnawed at him, and with a wry smile, he stepped forward, pulling out a crisp bill and waving it in his hand.
"Hey, can I get a bowl?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
The girl's cheerful rhythm froze mid-motion. The line went quiet, and every dino turned to stare at him. Their eyes narrowed in unison, sharp with suspicion and disdain.
"What the fuck's a monkey doing here?" a rough voice muttered from the line.
"Yeah, get the hell outta here, flea-bag!" another shouted.
The Velafrons girl raised a hand to hush the crowd, her smile returning, though now it carried a sharp, condescending edge. "Do you mind?" she said, tilting her head with mock sweetness. "It's rude to stare. But, um...we don't really accept strays here. If you're looking for a place to be adopted, the animal shelter's just a block that way."
The crowd erupted in laughter.
Anon's jaw tightened, but he forced a thin smile. "That's funny. Real clever."
She twirled the ladle in her hand like a baton, her tail wagging as if she'd just nailed a perfect punchline. "Thank you, thank you," she said, giving a mock bow.
Anon took a step closer, holding out the bill again. "I'm serious. I want to try the soup. Here, I'll pay."
The girl's smile widened, and she straightened her back, looking down her nose at him. "Well, well. Sorry, sir, but this food is for the displaced and unfortunate. We don't serve invasive species." Her eyes flicked over his clothes, her lip curling. "Besides, look at you. Nice clothes. Did the rats sew them for you?"
The crowd laughed again, louder this time.
"How does a dirty monkey like you even get your hands on something like that?" she continued, her voice dripping with mock curiosity. "You should donate it. It'd probably fit a dino better than it fits you."
Anon's smile faltered, his teeth gritting. "I said, I'll pay."
She ignored him, turning back to the line. "Sorry, folks, but we've got a suspicious outsider here trying to take food meant for the poor working class. But don't worry! I'll make sure this capitalist parasite doesn't get his filthy hands on what's rightfully ours."
The crowd cheered, emboldened by her words.
Anon's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "Look, I just want—"
"You just want?" she interrupted, spinning back around to face him. "Of course you want. That's all you non-dinos ever do, isn't it? You take, and take, and take some more, thinking the world owes you something. Well, guess what? It doesn't. Especially not here. This is Dino High. Not...what do you call it? Primate Preschool?"
Anon felt a vein pulse in his temple. He forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Listen," he said, his voice low and steady. "I'm actually a student at Dino High."
The Velafrons froze, her smug expression faltering for a split second before twisting into disbelief. "You? A student at Dino High? No way."
"It's true," Anon said, his patience wearing thin. "I got in fair and square."
Her laughter cut through the air like a whip. "Fair and square? Oh, please. What did you do, bribe someone? Or did they let you in as a diversity hire to meet some ridiculous inclusion quota?"
The crowd jeered and laughed with her, the noise growing louder.
Anon's hands trembled. The static buzzed faintly in the back of his mind, growing louder with each taunt. His skin prickled, and he could feel the meteor fragment pulsing in sync with his rising anger.
"You don't know anything about me," he said, his voice taut with barely restrained fury.
"Oh, I know enough," she shot back. Her smile twisted into a sneer. "I know you're a dirty little capitalist who thinks he's better than everyone else. That you're here to look down on us, to exploit us. But I won't let you. This food is for the poor dinos who built Dino High with their blood, sweat, and tears. It's not for privileged outsiders like you!"
Anon's lip curled into a snarl. "Built Dino High? Are you kidding me? Dino High wasn't even built just by dinosaurs. The other archosaurs helped too. Ever been to the library? Seen the statues?"
The Velafrons' eyes widened, her composure slipping for a moment. Then her face twisted into rage. "Wait...you really got in? You? A stupid monkey got into Dino High? NO FAIR!"
She slammed the ladle down on the counter, her voice rising to a shriek. "I'VE BEEN TRYING TO GET IN MY WHOLE LIFE, AND THEY LET YOU IN INSTEAD?! WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The crowd echoed her outrage, their voices a cacophony of complaints and curses.
Anon took a step back, his eyes scanning the faces around him. The disdain. The hatred. It was all so...predictable.
"They hate you," the static whispered in his mind. "They always will."
His lips curled into a cold, humorless smile.
Today was his first day as the assistant city manager for this neighborhood. He made a mental note to ensure this soup kitchen would never operate here again. And as for these dregs—these thugs and criminals masquerading as victims—he would make sure they all starved by winter.
They wanted him dead. He could see it in their eyes.
And he owed it to himself, his dignity as a member of the human race, and non dinos everywhere, to not let them get away with it.