Chapter Text
Jack and robby have been together for as long as they could remember, killing dragon colonies as if it was second nature.
This mission would be no different.
Driving in an old truck they had managed to get a hold of back in their early days of hunting, jack and robby sat side by side, robby’s hands never leaving the wheel while Jack sharpened his blade with so much care and tenderness it almost made robby jealous. Almost.
The car was calm and quiet besides the sound of the radio, as if they were going on a date rather than a possible suicide mission to kill off a colony of man eating flying monsters. Real romantic there.
Jack broke the silence his voice soft and gruff,”how many are in the colony?”
Robby didn’t respond choosing to mull over his words and the information given to him only a day in advance. Robby remembered it well. Unfortunately.
Robby remembers the call at an ungodly hour, he remembers picking up to a fellow hunter, Dana, and hearing her go on and on about a colony in broken bow Nebraska.
“Robby!” He is quickly startled out of own thoughts at the stern sound of his lover.
“What?” He responded, his voice filled with annoyance, not at jack but at this whole situation, they were supposed to be on vacation not going to a fuckhouse in nebraska of all places.
“Did Dana tell you how many freaks are in the colony?” Jack repeated sounding just as annoyed.
“No,”
“What species are we dealing with?” Jack asked almost immediately as if it had just come to mind and would soon leave if he didn’t ask.
“Razor Wings, Solstice Weavers, Brute guardians, etc” robby listed off the first three he could remember, the first three that were threats. Danger.
Jack sighed, no longer interested in his blade. “Just our fucking luck,”
Brute guardians were nasty fuckers Physically and emotionally. They were nothing if not massive twice the size of an elephant, these were tank-like dragons with slate-gray, metallic scales, war hardened wings, four piercing eyes, and a call that rattles like distant thunder
The other two weren’t much better. A Razor-Wing as a hatchling was a pain in the ass but as adults..it would be wise to pray if you ever met one. These were sleek, silver dragons with spikes sharp enough to pierce metal as if it was only butter, they were rumored to have been send down by oden to ensure order, ordered to live inside thunderstorms and slice through clouds.
Now a Solstice Weaver was a cunning creature. They were small no bigger than a common dog, brightly colored dragons that manipulate their victims into believing they were in their own personal heaven when in reality they were being kept until the beast grew hungry.
By the time they were settled into their temporary shelter aka a cheap ass hotel that looked like it had seen better days, they were both too tired to do much more than set up a few traps in the woods behind the building and go to bed.