The Iron Assassin

Beutiful Satire of Blood

Damn. Shits hitting me harder than Mike Tyson....

Three days of searching. Three, fucking days. And all he got out of this was looks of shock, doubt from his companions, and a bunch of unnerved dragons convinced that Scarlet was going to kill them all in fear of losing her throne.

Though he couldn't shake off the feeling that something dark was watching him. Like it waited around a corner to observe him, watching only when he looked away. Maybe it was the Tracker Jackel. Or maybe it was that sandwing Burn. Considering he basically asserted himself over her. And judging by her accomplices, no one ever did that. Or they died right after.

Now I might have to deal with a killhappy princess that wants to stuff me. Joy.

Falcon and Opuntia seemed to have the same opinion too. Exclaiming how he basically survived a death sentence with the most violent of the three sisters. But now he had he had to watch out for her, for his and Opuntias sake.

"So you are saying that Crow disappeared a little after the bomb?" He questioned a maid. Her rosey red scales polished to look their best. A nessasary job requirement, he guessed for working at such a pristine place.

"Yes. He left in a scramble too. Claiming that he had family caught in the area of the bomb." She explained.

"Mhm. Does he have much family?" Riplash questioned. Mentally sighing as that turned into the seventh possible fake identity for the damn thing. He needed a way to ween them out. Work his way through to see which one the bitch was hiding as.

"Not a lot no. Just his ill mother and pregnant sister. Sad that her child is going to be in the military. She really loves the egg already and it isn't even laid." The maid sighed sadly.

"Yes. But not everyone is blessed. I'm sure something good will happen to them." He responded dryly. Taking a mental note of the possible monster.

"Do you have any dragonets? You look like you might somewhere." The maid questioned curiously.

"Mmm...No. Not any I'm aware of." He responded. The idea of having a bunch of little shits running back and forth around his talons annoyed him. Their cries for attention constantly blaring in his ears, their tiny faces looking up at him in awe...pipsquek voices...little copies of him...

"Sad. You seem like you'd be a strong father." She commented, turning away from him to resume her work, but not before catching a quick glint from the skywing. Something about it sending red flag signals in his brain.

Mmmhmmm.

"Nothing else so far?" Falcon questioned, padding up to him.

"Possibly one but..." He looked back at the maid he was just talking to, watching her turn the corner and disappear out if sight. "Watch her." He spoke quietly.

"The maid? Are you sure?" He questioned, watching her tailtip slip away.

"Something about her doesn't sit right." He warned. She was way to nice to him. No one would look at him and think father material for anyone's kid. Let alone one made by him. No matter how many he probably already has made.

Sandstorm, Sandwraith, Moonlight, Raspberry, and a few others.

Naming off dragonesses in his past. Thinking back now, he could understand the high sex drive. Considering what it has gotten him so far, he quite enjoyed it, and still will.

"Oooookay. I'll keep an eye on that specific maid. Not that there isn't a hundred more in this entire palace!" Falcon exasperated.

"I'll keep an eye out with the others, if she keeps up a constant routine, notify me immediately." Riplash instructed, looking around quickly before anyone could notice.