Heath was in a deep slumber; he did not know what was happening around him. He was currently dreaming about sitting on a huge throne and thousands of people bowing at his feet. A fleet of dragonfly shaped aircrafts were hovering above in the sky, the one in the lead, flying a flag with his face and name. To his sides were his beautiful concubines, and many sons.
The woman beside him, his favorite mistress named Ayra, woke up as soon as the door creaked open. Her eyes popped open, landing instantly on the two figures silhouetted in the doorway. She opened her mouth to scream, a sound that surely would have brought a dozen armed guards running_ but a tranquilizer dart caught her right in the tongue.
"Oops, sorry," Paula shrugged, lowering the blowgun. "I was aiming for the shoulder, but hey, silence is silence."
"You do not have to be sorry" Hadrian whispered, stepping over a discarded shoe.
