Twas the night before the Prisoners’ Games tournament was set to start. Floating around miles up in the sky among the clouds was a massive floating rock island. Small figures were flying around it, constantly changing their positions as they kept guard. The floating rock island was the prison for criminals of the dragon race, and the dragons flying around were the guardsmen on duty for the night. Vigil though they may be, the dragonoid guardsmen still failed to notice a figure sitting on a cliff edge atop the island, gazing down at the guards below with a look of contempt.
The figure was also a dragon, but it was by far one of the smallest dragons in existence. It was the same size as a human, and the dragon’s lean, well-muscled body was completely wrapped in shiny black leather armor with dark grey straps and silver buckles. A mane of spiky lime green hair grew from its head, and its jungle green wing skin glowed dimly in the night. The dragon’s exposed neck and underbelly scales were the same shade of green as its wings, and excluding the white talons and claws, the rest of the body was pitch black. Silver daggers of various shapes and sizes glittered in the starlight as they hung from a single brown leather belt wrapped around the dragon’s waist. A large pale white object was strapped to the dragon’s back; it appeared to be a rib bone of a dragon or some other kind of large creature. Venom-green eyes glared down at the guards as they continued their night shift.
The black dragonoid heard a soft flapping behind him and sighed. “It’s about time you showed up,” he growled, looking over his shoulder at the figure not standing behind him. “I hope you didn’t let any of the guards spot you.” He couldn’t see the figure in detail as its back was directly against the full moon hanging low in the sky, leaving a black silhouette that could only inform one that the figure was another human sized dragonoid.
The figure growled. “Do you honestly believe that I’d allow them to see me? Don’t doubt my skill, murderer.”
“Hey, hey now!” the first dragon laughed. “Don’t make it sound like I kill for the sake of enjoyment. I’m an assassin for hire, and don’t forget it.”
“The fact that you do kill for a living is enough reason to make me want to strike you down now,” the figure responded in a low voice, gripping the weapon handle that stuck out past the back of its right shoulder. The figure eventually sighed and let go of the handle. “Then again, I doubt our bosses would like it if the two of us ended up fighting each other,” he conceded. “I’m willing to work with you until this dual-contract of ours is finished, but no longer.”
“Fine by me,” the first dragon turned around and resumed watching the guardsmen before spitting loudly. “Look at them down there. It must be nice to be so blissfully ignorant all the time. Do they really think that this amount of guards could keep the top members of the Mercenary Union and Shadow Strikers out of the prison?”
“I would assume so, but I must say that security does seem to be a little lax,” the silhouette agreed. “I’d say they would last around thirty seconds or so before we got inside the compound.”
“It’s too bad our orders aren’t to storm the prison,” the first dragon moaned, pulling his legs close to his body as he curled up. “All we were told to do tonight was to meet up and establish a partnership with one another.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who placed this dual-contract, would you?” the figure asked curiously. The dragon turned back to look at him again before he continued. “My boss wouldn’t say a word about who it was, but the client must have a heck of a lot of gold, if our bosses decided to work with each other on this contract.”
“My superior kept me in the dark about it as well,” the black dragon responded, turning back to watch the guards. “It’s all pretty hush-hush; she’d normally inform me about clients, but she flatly refused to tell me anything this time.”
“At least we know what our target is,” the figure responded. He pulled a small sheet of paper out from inside his armor and threw it at the black dragon like a card. The dragon caught it between his index and middle finger and flipped it around to look at the image on it. It was an photo of a young human male with spiky black hair and completely black eyes, excluding the yellow irises. He was wearing a black sleeveless shirt, blue pants held up by a black sash tied off to the left side, and brown boots with no laces.
“So, this is our target, huh...” the dragon muttered, half to himself as he gazed at the image. Apparently, the photo had been taken while the subject of the image had been sparring with the current head of the Vizard family, Zero. “Draycos was the name, if I recall what my superior told me. Do we know why the client wants this brat killed off? Normally, I wouldn’t care, but if the Mercenary Union is also involved in this, there’s got to be a damn good reason for someone to take this kid’s head off.”
The figure behind him shrugged. “Don’t ask me. The Mercenary Union almost never takes assassination requests, but my boss seems to think that whatever the reason is, it’s good enough to have accepted the request.”
The black dragon sighed again, closing his eyes as he slipped the image into his leather armor before standing up.
“Hey, that was my picture,” the figure objected. “Give it back.”
“Whatever the reason may be, we still have our assignment to carry out,” the dragon stated, ignoring the other’s request. “My group also keeps things on the down-low, so it’s not the best idea to barge into the prison and assassinate the brat. Let’s wait ’til he’s able to come out on top of that tournament being held tomorrow that the public so loves to watch. I was told he would be winning the thing.”
With that, the dragon instantly vanished, as if he had teleported away. The figure stood on top of the rocky island for a few moments alone, then lowered his gaze to the ground.
“That was my picture....”