Shoe Thief — Roleplayer Guild

Deon Erickson

Many years ago, The Nightwars

"Let me get this strait? You failed your mission at the airport, and you want me to cover up your mess?" The man speaking sat in an improvised war room. The room originally seemed to be the main living area of a private estate. He was a tall man, well built, and gave a natural uneasy feeling as he spoke to the people around him. Though right now the only one with his was the disfigured Fergus O'Brian, who was still struggling to heal from his wounds from his mission over a month ago. The man leaned forward in his chair, leaning against the table with a map of the world pinned on it. "Do you realize how badly this loss hit us Fergus? Pretty damn bad. Bad enough I want to mount your head on a wall and put it on a plaque that says 'I fucked up' across it." Fergus didn't speak, speaking now would only make things worse on his end. "The only reason I am not doing that is because you're not the one who fucked up. No that was Sasha. Her head I am already putting on a plaque for this. But you, you're not out of this. So unless you have some reason for me to not beat you into an oblivion you better start running." 

Fergus sat in a chair across from the man scared shitless to speak to him. "I... I was already punished. My injuries are not healing right as it is. I am still trying to figure this out myself!" The man wasn't pleased with this response. He stood up as Fergus listed reason number two to have his life spared. "I got their names!" He screamed as he fell back in his chair holding his arms up. This got the man's attention. "Who's names?" Fergus saw a glimpse of hope. "I got the names of the Marines that cut the mission short." He hesitated for a moment. "I... I got one name. But I got his units memorized! With his name and the name of his unit we can track down the survivors and make them pay!"

The man gave Fergus a blank look. "You're a fucking coward. But for once that actually was a good thing for us. We can do more with them now then just kill them." He said  with his thoughts going. "But knowing you, it would have to be someone else that would go on these errands." He clapped his hands together with a somewhat creepy smile on his face. "I can take care of it tomorrow! Then that will help bring up the point of stop getting in my fucking way!" He said pissed off now. "People are always getting in our way now." He looked the quivering vampire in the eyes. "This war is coming to an end Fergus. And we're on the loosing side. I need you to remember this when the times comes."

Fergus stood up on two feet to give his reply. "I understand, but I think your doubts are a bit over estimated. For every one of us that dies at least ten humans are killed off!" The mans expression was unchanged. "What's seven billion divided by ten Fergus. Then figure out if that number is smaller then the known vampire population. Then do the math that not all vampires are on our side, or on a side at all. Now we just prepare for the next big move." Fergus was confused at this point. But he wasn't going to question it. "Alright Erickson. I see your point. So we just wait out the war until another one can kick in?" Erickson laughed at his comment. "To put it bluntly, yes." They were both quiet for a while. Eventually Fergus left as Deon Erickson prepared how he wanted to end this war, and how to start the next one.

Now

The shack at this point was in worse condition then when Deon saw it years ago. Then again, it had survived a madman like Fergus living in it. Deon walked in the front door, it was wide open. After walking inside he noticed a few things, the smell of spent gunpowder, and the lack of the smell of blood. After walking into the kitchen he saw the mentally unstable vampire half dead leaning against the table. "You drunk or dead?" The deformed vampire sat up. "Dead." Deon smiled. "Good! Time to get to work then." Fergus was pissed at this comment. He could tell Deon knew he was dying and all he was concerned about was work. "Guessing by the spent powder and the faulty gun on the counter you didn't kill who ever came here to kill you." Fergus didn't reply. "Alright then, be a dick. I came here giving you a final chance of glory." Deon started walking out, soon being cut off by Fergus. "Wait! wait! What do you mean?" Being on the verge of death, Fergus was willing to do anything to get the last laugh in. Deon turned to face his former employee. "It's finally time Fergus. Just need to get some final things taken care of." Before Fergus could speak Deon started giving him a list of things he was to do before he died. "I left a car outside with all the things you will need for your job. Some weapons, not a lot but enough to get you to your mark. Some tools, some chemical mixtures, those kind of things. I want you to get creative for once. And as long as you get some specific things done, I don't honestly give a shit what you do beyond that. Just make it memorable." He said with a smile. He knew Fergus was desperate to get back into action at least one more time. And was crazy enough to do anything.
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