Dragonscale shifted on her 'throne',–which was just a huge pile of trash made of compiled seats and tires–tail flicking slowly as she patched her spear back together, face slightly annoyed as she bind the pieces together. As she worked, Dragonscale's ring subtly glinted in the dull sun–well, everything in Middle Ring has been dull ever since the outbreak of infection and mutants broke out.

She paused, though, when she heard a light shuffling sound coming from behind her. Her first thought was that it could've been one of her gang members, but then she remembered they're out scavenging. She held her now half-repaired spear in her claws as she whipped her head around to look at whatever or whoever made the sound. Dragonscale's eyes were cold and piercing as she raked her surroundings, her tail skeptically flicking as she tried to examine what she heard.