What an unimaginable thing that a young woman would hold up the attributes of her one and only father, for all other men to try to compete against.
What an insurmountable task.
It was the sure fire path to a life of loneliness, whether you were in a romantic relationship, or not, bitterness, or constant let down of these unattainable expectations would surely be your undoing.
Perhaps this is why images of my father have as of late begun to fill my nightly dreams.
Visions of him flying backwards into the light, and clouded sky.
Saying such things as “You must open your eyes Mady… open your heart.”
As if that were some easy thing to do in a world that’s grown so cold since his departure.
And “He will be nothing like me Mady… that’s the only truth I know.”
Oh father, how I miss you.
Yes, these are the kind of little conversations that my mind is having with itself while I innocently slumber.
And then of course there’s the new ‘erotic’ dreams that also seem to have worked their ways into the sandman rotation.
These I don’t mind too much…
Full of dark, mysterious strangers…
Come to pleasure my body, my heart, and my soul, under the guise of dream dust.
I must admit, one third of my nights I find myself waking with such an unquenchable lust in my heart…
My bottom lip, bitten, and bleeding.
Panting in the dark.
Waiting? I dare say not.
But all is forgiven…
For never in my life have I remotely experienced such divine, sugary pleasures, as the misguided fantasies of my own mind.
My wits are surely not kind…
But they do truly know what it is to be in a young woman’s body…
Tokui Shinsou stands before his old friend Arata’s home.
He feels ashamed to knock, and so instead stands in front of the door for a half an hour.
Suddenly, just as he’s about to knock…
“Tokui!” comes from behind him.
Tokui turns to see his friend, eight years older than the last time he has seen him.
He can’t help but smile just slightly.
“I can’t believe it!” Arata says as he grabs, and gives him a huge hug, lifting him off the ground.
Arata, is after all a 6’4″, 280 pound, Japanese young man. Very tall for his race. And Tokui is after all, only 5’9″, and 175 pounds at best.
“Woe man, I can’t breathe,” says Tokui, half laughing.
Inside Arata’s Home
Arata serves Tokui some tea, as Tokui sits on his couch.
“I heard about your father… I’m so sorry Tokui,” speaks Arata.
Tokui simply nods and takes a drink of his tea.
“And your sister, I…” Arata starts to say, but Tokui holds up his hand, rage filling his eyes.
“No,” he simply says, and Arata doesn’t say another word about it.
“So… What now Tokui? What will you do?” asks Arata.
“I don’t know… Find a job I guess,” Tokui replies.
“Hey, I might be able to help you out with that… I do some computer work for this manufacturing company…” he starts to explain.
“Computer work? Ah, you know I’m no good with computers Arata,” he interjects.
“HaHa, no, not computer work, I was always the brains in our band of teenage offenders, HaHa,” he says, and they both laugh.
“No, it’s a fairly physical intensive job, but I figure you’re up to it… You’ve kept yourself in pretty good shape, right,” Arata says, more than asks.
Tokui smiles slightly “Yeah… A bit.”
“Listen, Arata, is it ok if I stay with you for a while? I can pay for my own groceries,” speaks Tokui.
“Of course, of course old friend… Stay as long as you like, it’s not like I have a woman that’s goina show up HaHa,” they both laugh.
Katsuo Industries
Two Hours Later
Mr. Katsuo, a fairly short, silver haired Japanese man, walks Tukui and Arata around the facility.
“It’s not easy work… But if you want the job… It’s yours… A friend of Arata is fine by me… Truth be known, I didn’t know Arata had any friends HaHa,” they all laugh.
An Expensive Home In Tokyo City
Later That Evening
A well dressed, 50 something year old Japanese man, sits behind a black desk, petting a silver cat with green eyes.
Mashahiro…
Suddenly a younger Japanese man in a white suit steps into the office, “Mr. Mashahiro, we have located Tukui Shinsou… He’s found employment at Katsuo Industries. He runs some manufacturing machines there.”
“I see… Keep two men on him,” speaks Mashahiro, who then turns his chair away and looks out the window at Tokyo City below.
Across The Street
Tukui Shinsou stands staring at Mashahiro’s home, his eyes tearing, rage filling his heart.
Vengeance; Punishment inflicted in retaliation for an injury or offense
“It wasn’t her fault… It was mine. As if one Tour of Service wasn’t enough…”
“I remember the day I came home, her eyes were all lit up as she ran into my arms…”
“I picked her up, and swung her around… She was so small.”
“And I remember the way her face dropped when she found I had enlisted for a Second Tour of Duty.”
“What was I thinking… Why did I believe so badly in this country… Why did I conceal the Truth from my Eyes… From my Heart.”
“I was a fool… A Patriotic Fool.”
“And look what it cost me… It cost me everything.”
A Military Plane Flying Over Japan
Within the darkness of a ship filled brim to brim with returning soldiers, a single light keeps appearing, and then disappearing… It is a man’s lighter. And with every flash of light, there is a glimpse of a distraught, angry looking, fairly young man.
His name… Tokui Shinsou… His first name means ‘Triumph’… His last name means ‘Truth’.
A Small City In Japan
The Year 2080
Tokui Shinsou stands before a home that has been torn down.
Behind it a large stretch of land, as far as the eye can see, waiting to be developed.
Tokui is a strong, trim and muscular Japanese man, the age of 28.
He’s wearing soft, black traditional looking Japanese clothing.
Above him fly by several small private ships…
Ships belonging to the wealthy class of Japan.
For him, and the likes of him, ground vehicles were still in use.
But he does not own one of his own.
After eight years of military service, he has finally returned home…
But to a home, that no longer stands… On property, that is no longer his fathers.
Two months ago he received a check 1/10th the value of his father’s home, and property.
His father would have never sold the home… And certainly not for such a low amount.
Why was the check sent to Tokui? Because his father was mysteriously killed at his job.
Construction foreman by trade, something just wasn’t right about his death.
But there’s time for that.
The bigger loss, Tokui can not even speak of… Nor think of.
All that he can think of, is Vengeance.
Tokui continues to stand in front of what used to be his families small home… Tears running down his face… Rage filling his heart.
Finally he kneels down on one knee, takes a chunk of dirt from the ground, and squeezes it in his hand.
My Editor Has Finished Editing “Chess With Agatha”… And, I Have A Lot Of Work To Do, Lol
Ok, so My Editor Finished Editing My 4th Draft of “Chess With Agatha”, and as I hoped she’s really cleaned up the Grammar, and some of the Sentence Structuring. I need to implement all of that, but I’m totally down with that.
The real Challenge before me will be making Story Adjustments based on some of her Comments… Now I only Skimmed over them, but this stuff is going to take a lot of thought and focus on my part. Which is to be expected, and I’m totally glad for the Insights… But it is still going to be a challenge making sure the book still captures what I want it to, but also is clearly written.
Wish me Luck
This Next Week or Two should be Challenging and Interesting preparing it for Self Publishing
REPORTER: CONGRESSMEN JAROD PETERSON RETIRED TODAY, ONE DAY AFTER HIS 6OTH BIRTHDAY, WHICH SHOULD CHANGE THINGS QUITE A BIT IN CONGRESS. PETERSON WAS KNOWN MOST FOR BEING A ROCK IN THE WHEEL SPOKES, WITH HIS MANY ENVIRONMENTAL, GUN VIOLENCE AND EDUCATIONAL PROGRAM PUSHES. BUT WHAT DISTINGUISHED PETERSON MOST, WAS HIS ABILITY TO RALLY OTHER CONGRESSMEN AGAINST THE ‘BIG GOVERNMENT’ POLICIES THAT SEEM TO COME UP TIME AND TIME AGAIN.
IN THIS REPORTERS ESTIMATION, PETERSON WILL BE MISSED BY THE PEOPLE… NOT THE OTHER GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS.
BUT ISN’T THE GOVERNMENT SUPPOSED TO REPRESENT THE PEOPLE?
THIS IS JOHN HALSBURY, FROM CHANNEL TWO NEWS.
Washington D.C.
Jarod Peters, a fairly normal looking man of 60, walks down a hallway with a younger man. Both are wearing suits.
“Do you think you’ll miss the fight sir?” asks the younger man.
“Oh… Maybe… Sometimes… But mostly not,” replies Peterson.
“And do you intend to apply for a Youth Syrum12 on your arrival to New Hamshire? Maybe take a few years off for your retirement?” inquires the fellow.
“Oh… I don’t think so… First of all, it’s very expensive… I think I’d rather spend that money on a cabin by a lake,” replies Peterson.
Both men smile.
The two step outside the building, where Peterson gets into a long black floating vehicle.
Above them in the sky, there appears to be a slightly visible protective dome shield surrounding the city.
It has a slight green tint to it.
“Take care sir,” speaks the man.
Peterson waves slightly, and gets into the vehicle.
The vehicle hums down the busy street, then rises up in the air to travel above the traffic.
“Now now Roberts, I’m no longer a government class individual, put me down there in the traffic with the rest of them,” he says.
“Just one last time sir… You’re employment does stretch through today after all,” replies the chauffeur Roberts.
Peterson smiles slightly, “Oh, alright… But I’m doing this for you.”
Roberts smiles “Of course you are sir… A man of the people… I’d expect no less.”
Peterson smiles slightly.
NEW HAMSHIRE
TWO DAYS LATER
JAROD PETERSON’S HOME
Jarod pours himself a drink, and sits back in a easy chair, then picks up a remote control and clicks on a wall hologram of the ocean.
The artificial sounds of the ocean fill the room as he picks up a book reading device, and starts to read.
Soon he’s fast asleep.
TWO HOURS LATER
Jarod awakes, and turns on a televised screen.
On the screen is a forty something year old Congressman making a speech.
“THE OLD MAN IS GONE… IT’S A TIME FOR CHANGE… BIGGER GOVERNMENT IS INEVITABLE… WE AIM TO TAKE CARE OF YOU THE PEOPLE. NO MORE WORRYING ABOUT MEDICAL COSTS… NO MORE WORRY ABOUT THE BURDEN OF A HIGHER EDUCATION… AND WE’RE SIMPLY GOING TO STOP ALL OTHER THAN POLICE, AND MILITARY FROM BEING ALLOWED TO OWN GUNS. WE ARE THE GREAT WING OF PROTECTION… LET US COVER YOU. THANK YOU.”
REPORTER: THIS SPEECH WAS MADE ONLY TWO DAYS AFTER THE RETIREMENT OF JAROD PETERSON… A PEOPLE’S LOVED CONGRESSMEN, WHO SPENT THE LAST 30 YEARS FIGHTING TO REPRESENT THE PEOPLE. WELL… THOSE DAYS ARE GONE. AND THIS REPORTER FOR ONE FEARS WHAT THE FUTURE OF OUR COUNTRY WILL BE WITHOUT HIM. WE MISS YOU JAROD PETERSON.
Jarod turns off his televised screen.
He sits for a few moments, then opens up a computer screen before him, on a site called “Log Cabin Homes”… He flips through some pages, but is obviously a bit angry.
He shuts it off.
After sitting a few minutes, and sipping away on his drink, the tiredness in his eyes starts to show a spark… One of determination… One of vitality.
He accesses a video calling screen, and calls his daughter.
“Dad… What a Surprise… How’s it going?”
she asks.
“I’m good… I’m good… Just looking at some possible Log Cabin possibilities,”
he responds.
“Good… Good… Well I really have to go dad, the kids are running around like maniacs… Take care of yourself,”
and she disappears off the screen before he can reply.
He looks… Beaten.
“We never were close,” he says to himself.
A few moments later he accesses a computer screen once more, and goes to a site called “Youth Again… Syrum12″.
He stairs at the screen.
He then accesses a video calling screen.
“Thank you for calling ‘Youth Again’… How may I be of service?”
the woman on the screen says.
“Yes, hello, I’m thinking about purchasing some Syrum12?”
he says.
“Yes sir Mr. Peterson… And may I say, congratulation on the retirement… How many years worth would you like? Ten would be wonderful to add to your retirement life, fishing and such.”
she explains.
Jarod just sits there for a moment.
“Thirty…”
He replies to her surprise.
“Thirty… Uh… Yes sir. I’m afraid that will be quite expensive.”
She replies.
“I’ll take it… And is there anyway you can add in a hair color change… From brown to blond?”
He continues.
“Of course… The hair change is on us sir.”
She responds with a twinkle in her eyes.
“You better add in some sniper training as well,”
He finishes.
“Of course Mr. Peterson… That too will be at no additional charge… Also, would you like a name change and for this conversation to be removed from the record sir?”
The girl adds to his surprise.
“Uh… Yes… That might be a good idea.”
He replies.
“Why make it a Suicide Mission, when you can start, and lead a whole damn Revolution… Sir.”
The girl adds.
Jarod smiles slightly.
“Yes… Maybe you’re right… Maybe there is a future in this for me.”
He concludes.
“We’re with you sir… You will not be alone… Syrum12 x3 on the way”
Are her last words, as she disappears off the screen.
SIX HOURS LATER
A 30 year old, strong looking younger, blonder Jarod Peterson, with a long black sniper rifle on his back takes a last look at his New Hampshire home, then turns and goes.
SEVEN DAYS LATER
REPORTER: THIS JUST IN… AN UNKNOWN MAN LEADING SOME FIVE TO SIX THOUSAND PEOPLE ON A MARCH ON WASHINGTON D.C. IS MAKING QUITE A FUSS. HE’S DEMANDING THE REMOVAL OF SEVERAL KEY CONGRESSMEN, AND THE REBUILDING OF A NATION. THE PRESIDENT OF COURSE RESPONDED THAT HE DOESN’T RESPOND TO TERRORISM. THE LEADER OF THE MARCH THEN INDICATED “LIBERTY IS NOT TERRORISM… WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”
NO ONE IS QUITE SURE WHERE THIS MAN CAME FROM, NOR WHO HE IS, BUT ALL THIS REPORTER CAN SAY IS, LONG LIVE THE PEOPLE.
The most popular club in town, the Panama Club, is as busy as ever…
With patrons lined up and down the sidewalks outside, in hopes of getting in.
INSIDE THE PANAMA
Inside, the dance floor, and seating is filled to the brim…
With scary looking, dark sunglass wearing bouncers staggered every thirty feet leaned up against its inner walls.
Girls, drugs, music, anything a party seeking mortal could hope for, all within their grasp…
As long as they have enough cash…
THE BACKROOM
Meanwhile, in the backroom, Nolan Prosk, leader of the current rise of vampires, sits behind his desk and listens to mortal drug lords beg Philip, his secondhand man, for leniency in delivering payment. He’s smiling maniacally, as he smokes a long cigarette, as too of his thug vampires hold onto the drug lord.
“I just need a bit more time Mr. Phillip sir… Then I’ll have your money…” he pleads.
“Maybe if you stopped sniffing the profits up your pathetic human nose, I would not be bothered with such things, when I should be out greeting Mr. Prosk’s guests…” replies Phillip.
“Kill him…” he then says.
“NO! NO!” pleads the drug lord.
Just then, Prosk stops smiling.
“Wait…” he speaks.
Vincent steps forward “I sense it too…”
Prosk waves his hand, and his vampire thugs let the drug lord go.
INSIDE THE CLUB
An exceptionally good looking, black haired man steps into the club, and immediately six or more girls swoon to him.
It’s La Fon…
He steps down the stairs as he casts his penetrating gaze across the dance floor.
Two security thugs move at him, as he hasn’t paid to get in, but with one look of his now glowing red eyes, they back off into the shadows.
AN ABANDONED OFFICE BUILDING
AN OFFICE ON THE 20TH FLOOR
Roy and Uncle Tom are eating Chinese food, while Arram stands by the window, arms crossed, peering into the night and city below.
Suddenly Arram drops to one knee.
Roy jumps up, and goes to her.
“Arram, are you alright?” he questions as he kneels down by her.
“La Fon… He’s here… In the city,” she speaks in what sounds almost like a solemn chant.
Uncle Tom grabs his cane, stands, and throws on his long black coat.
“Then we have no time to waste!” he loads his revolver, and one handed crossbow, and attaches them to his belt.
“NO!” Arram says loudly as she stands, holding her hand out towards her Uncle.
“Stay here… They’re looking for you…” she explains.
“And me?” questions Roy.
“It’s him they want, they won’t be looking for you, especially when you dye your hair black…” with this she tosses Roy a bottle of black hair dye.
Roy catches it, and just stares at Arram.
PANAMA CLUB
La Fon makes his way through the dance floor, several woman still following, and clawing at him.
Meanwhile, all of the security bouncers, who are all actually vampires, watch him as he goes.
BACK OFFICE
Suddenly the back office doors open, and two vampire guards step into the room.
“Sir…” they start to say, but then La Fon steps into the room, right passed them.
Vincent steps out of the shadows, “Hello La Fon…”
La Fon looks at Vincent, “Vincent.”
“So you are La Fon…” speaks Nolan Prosk as he looks calmly at La Fon.
“I am truly honored to meet you,” Prosk continues as he gestures toward one of the two seats in front of his desk.
La Fon does not sit.
“And you’re Nolan Prosk…” La Fon replies.
“Yes… Yes I am,” Prosk replies with an almost air of nobility.
“Some privacy would be nice.” La Fon adds.
With this Prosk gestures, and all head out, including Vincent.
La Fon places his hand on Vincent’s shoulder as he passes, “You may stay Vincent.”
INSIDE THE CLUB
Roy and Arram step into the Panama club… Roy now has black dyed hair, and is wearing all black.
Arram is in a fairly tight black leather outfit, and has put on a bright red, chin length wig.
“Are you sure he’s in here? Your Uncle Tom and I never came anywhere remotely near the Panama club.” speaks Roy.
Arram tries to catch her breath, as a sudden chill rushes over her, “Oh… He’s here.”
Eleven year old Raven sits in a large black leather chair, across from a local Psychologist.
Her parents are in the waiting room.
“Hello Raven,” speaks the counselor.
“Hi,” she responds, playing with the buttons on her blouse, her light green eyes hidden underneath her dark bangs.
“Do you know why you’re here today?” asks the counselor.
Raven doesn’t answer at first. Then does.
“My mom and dad don’t believe that there are other forms of lifeforms on the planet Earth, than just Humans… Animals, and bugs and stuff,” she replies.
“What kinds of lifeforms?” questions the counselor, writing notes on her pad.
“I’m not quite sure what they’re called… I don’t think they go by specific names like humans,” Raven explains, which causes the counselor to look up from her pad.
“Specific names?” reiterates the counselor.
Raven looks up from beneath her bangs, “Yeah… Like Fred… And Betty… And stuff.”
30 MINUTES LATER
Raven is sitting out in the waiting room while her parents talk to the counselor.
“I’m a little worried about Raven… Whatever she’s talking about, she believes it 100%,” she explains to her parents, who look very concerned.
Meanwhile Raven wanders outside of the office, where a very nice black car pulls up alongside the curb.
The passenger side door opens, the driver is a friendly looking man who waves her to come over.
She shakes her head no, then her parents appear “Honey, you shouldn’t be out here.”
The car drives off, and Raven just watches it drive away.
BOULDER COLORADO
Reporter Peter Doran questions a woman at her home.
“So, you actually saw these meteorites fall, then explode?” he questions.
“Just like in Russia a year ago, yup,” she responds.
“Like Russia… Ok,” he replies.
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
MOTIVE INDUSTRIES NEW YORK OFFICE
JOHN BLACK’S COMPANY
John Black is smoking a cigar and looking out his 20th story window at the city below.
Meanwhile the television is blaring the News behind him.
NEWS REPORTER: JOHN BLACK WAS RELEASED ON ONE MILLION DOLLARS BAIL TODAY. THE JUDGE HAS FOUND THE CASE TO BE UNUSUAL ENOUGH, AND MR. BLACK’S TESTIMONY CLEAR MINDED ENOUGH, THAT THE CASE PROCEEDINGS WILL STOP UNTIL FURTHER, MORE CONVINCING EVIDENCE IS FOUND.
A man comes in the room, John’s Assistant Rob, who shuts off the television.
“I don’t think this case is going to hold up sir… I don’t know what you told them in there, but it seems to have swayed the case,” explains Rob.
John looks at Rob “When will the second prototype vessel be up and running?”
“Uh… A few weeks… Maybe… I can find out… Why sir?” replies Rob.
John looks back out the window, “That will be all Rob.”
Rob leaves.
BEEP! suddenly John gets a text.
“FIND ELEVEN YEAR OLD GIRL, RAVEN ROSS, IN NORTH CAROLINA… SHE MAY CHANGE YOUR MIND”
it reads…
“Raven Ross?” John says out loud, then looks at who the message is from.
“Peter Doran?” he says out loud.
He dials the number. “Hello… You just texted my phone… Listen, I don’t know how you got my number, but I…”
BOULDER COLORADO
Peter’s on his phone, “I’m sorry Mr., what did you say your name was? John Black?” with this he stands, “I’ll be right back mam,” and leaves the woman who he’s interviewing’s house.
“As in, John Black of Motive Industries?” Peter says in shock.
NORTH CAROLINA
RAVEN’S UPSTAIRS BEDROOM
8:15PM
She’s sitting up in bed… She can hear her parents talking about her downstairs.
She steps over to the window, and looks out at the street.
The black car she had seen earlier is parked out front.
The driver of the car opens the passenger side door, and waves for her to come.
She sits perfectly still for a moment, then quickly throws some clothes into backpack, and opens the window.
She makes her way out onto the lower roof, and works her way down a tree.
She approaches the car where the man is still waiting.
His eyes glow white for a moment, she looks back at her home, then gets into the car.
A young girl wakes in her bed, sweating and crying… She looks to be maybe 11, with long black hair, with light green eyes.
Her upstairs bedroom is dark, but there appears to be a bright light coming from outside her bedroom window.
Fearlessly, she stands, and makes her way to the window.
Outside her parents two story home, there are six men standing on their lawn… Each of their eyes are glowing, as they look up towards her window.
One of their mouths start to move, but she can not hear them through the glass window.
He then holds out one hand, palm up…
“Come with us,” she’s able to make out, before she wakes again… It was a dream… Only a dream.
BOULDER COLORADO
FEBRUARY 12TH, 2014
A SMALL HOTEL ROOM
10:14AM
Twenty eight year old Peter Doran, a reporter from Denver Colorado, sits on the end of his double sized bed in his hotel room in Boulder Colorado. Peter has short blondish, brownish hair, a medium build, and is wearing jeans and a white button up shirt, the top button open.
He lights a cigarette as he watches the news report on the television.
NEWS REPORTER: WE’RE LIVE HERE IN WASHINGTON D.C., WHERE PROCEEDINGS HAVE BEGUN FOR SELF MADE BILLIONAIRE JOHN BLACK, OF MOTIVE INDUSTRIES. JOHN BLACK, ONE OF THE 12 BILLIONAIRES INVOLVED WITH THE PLANNED PRIVATELY FUNDED 2018 MISSION TO MARS, HAS, ACCORDING TO RESOURCES, BEEN CHARGED WITH ATTEMPTING TO LAUNCH THE FIRST PROTOTYPE OF THE SHIP TO BE USED, JUST TWO DAYS AGO, IN THE SAHARA DESERT. NOT ONLY IS THIS FOUR AND A HALF YEARS PREMATURE TO THE PLANNED MISSION, BUT THOUGH HE IS INDEED ONE OF THE 12 FUNDING THE PROJECT, HE DID NOT INCLUDE ANY OF THE OTHERS IN WHAT WAS TO BE AN EXTREMELY EARLY, AND THUS DANGEROUS LAUNCH. NOT TO MENTION EXPENSIVE.
“Crazy billionaires… Think they can do anything,” speaks Peter as he takes a long hit off his cigarette, puts it out, grabs his jacket, and heads out the door.
WASHINGTON D.C.
COURTROOM OF THE HEARING
John black, a 6’3″ man, very handsome, with grey and black hair, 53 years in age. Stands before the court, with six sharply suited lawyers at his side. He himself is wearing an extremely expensive dark blue suit, which has very thin grey pin stripes, barely visible, yet just visible.
His eyes are brown, and gentle, and he has a grey and black goatee.
An angry looking Judge speaks.
“John Black, do you understand what you did is against the law… That not only did you endanger the lives of your crew, by trying to launch a vessel that is not ready, but you were also using a ship which has been paid for by eleven additional investors, beyond your own investment?” speaks the Judge.
John is silent for a moment, then replies. “There were to be 11 prototypes before the final vessel was made… I merely took the first prototype, which is in fact, one twelfth of the over all cost. I simply cashed out early.
HaHaHa many laugh within the courtroom.
The Judge does not look pleased. “Well… Even if that is the case, the fact that you were using a prototype, as opposed to a fully prepared ship, did indeed put others, as well as yourself, in danger.”
“Judge… It is in my strongest estimation, that each of the ships would in fact end up being exactly the same… This preliminary design has been ready for ten years, it was just a matter of finding the right investors… Which, in the end, didn’t end up being a government… And instead, a group of 12 investors. That being said, this ship, once again in my estimation, was indeed ready,” explains John.
“Then why create 12 ships?” replies the Judge.
“A formality, your honor… A precaution… But not a necessity… In my estimation,” finishes John.
The Judge seems stumped.
“Council, step into my quarters,” speaks the Judge, as he steps away from his chair.
NORTH CAROLINA
12:33PM
Little eleven year old Raven, the black haired girl who had been dreaming the night before, stands out in the middle of the street in front of her house, which is a culdesac.
She peers up into the sky… Just staring, for close to a half an hour before her mother notices her from their house kitchen window.
“What is Raven doing?” she asks her husband, who then looks out the window.
He sees several of her friends playing with a ball on the lawn, and Raven in the middle of the street.
“I don’t know? Maybe looking at a bird, or a plane?” he replies.
“She’s been sitting there for a half an hour… Can you check on her Richard,” requests Raven’s mom.
“Sure hun,” he replies, then heads out where Raven is.
“Whatcha doin babe?” he speaks to her, but she does not reply at first.
Then she looks over at him, her light green eyes barely visible beneath her dark bangs.
“How long have they been living amongst us Daddy?” she asks.
“Who hunny?” he replies.
She doesn’t reply, but merely looks back into the sky.
The party rides on, still some five to six hours behind my father, King Elias.
We’re in an area that I have not traveled in before, called the ‘Harkhorn Wood’.
It consists of extremely high, dark green needled trees, and large batches of boulders from time to time. But the path is clear enough, and looks to be used quite frequently.
Iliad is riding behind me, studying his book, trying to determine his path of magic… Captain Riotch and two of his King’s Elite Archers riding in the rear, one Elite Archer to my left and right, and two riding in front. Meanwhile Samyth, the Lamelon Warrior, has decided to ride along side me.
And Hemmingbyrds Spyr Bird sits upon my left shoulder. He is fairly large, and surprising lite.
“So you’re the daughter of Elias… Returned from the other plane, eh?” asks Samyth.
“Something like that,” Agatha replies.
Iliad takes note of Samyth’s talking to Agatha, but goes back to his reading.
“I do not mean to offend you my Lady…” he continues.
“No offense taken,” Agatha replies.
“I hear that you are formidable in combat,” he adds.
“Well… I do not know how I compare to one the likes of you, or your Lamelon brothers and sisters,” speaks Agatha.
“Ha… Brothers… We have no female warriors,” replies Samyth with a slight sneer.
Agatha ignores him.
But he is persistent. “Is it also true that your hair turns black in battle, and your eyes glow a brighter blue?”
“What of it?” replies Agatha, starting to get slightly annoyed by his pestering.
“Oh… Nothing… It is merely what I’ve heard,” finishes Samyth, detecting that he has agitated her.
“Very odd…” suddenly speaks Iliad from behind them.
Agatha looks back to see Iliad calling forth some purple lightning, in the form of an eight inch in diameter sphere.
“What is it Iliad?” inquires Agatha.
“We’re being tracked…” replies Iliad without looking away from the sphere.
Samyth reacts immediately, “Give me a couple of your Archers, and we’ll put an end to them!”
“You’re not taking my Archers,” replies Captain Riotch, who has ridden up to Iliad’s side.
SQUAH! suddenly squawks Hemmingbyrd’s Spyre bird, Mondo Gue.
Iliad looks up at the bird, “Let him go… He’ll find out the truth.”
Agatha looks at Mondo Gue, reluctant to send him.
“Send a damn bird to do a man’s job?” inserts Samyth.
“Oh gee, this should be fun,” speaks Iliad under his breath.
Agatha looks back at Iliad, then Captain Riotch, then back at Mondo Gue.
“Go on Mondo Gue… Seek the truth,” speaks Agatha, and the bird flies up into the sky in a blaze of white light.
Because I have finished the last of my mother’s books, I have decided to begin keeping my own journal… Who knows if any shall ever read them… But I do it more for my own sanity, than anything else. In my mother’s final book, Uncle Tom had gone to La Fon’s castle, and family estate, with intentions of killing him… And my mother planned on stopping him in some way… But how? Whether I like it or not, I will need to speak to my Uncle.
Journal of Daisy Arram – aka Arram
————————————————————————
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
THE PANAMA CLUB
NOLAN PROSK’S CLUB
10:14pm
The most popular club in town, the Panama Club, is as busy as ever.
With patrons lined up and down the sidewalks outside, in hopes of getting in.
INSIDE THE PANAMA
Inside, the dance floor, and tables surrounding it, are filled to the brim.
With scary looking, dark sunglass wearing security bouncers staggered every thirty feet, leaned up against its inner walls.
Girls, drugs, music, anything a party seeking mortal could hope for, all within their grasp…
As long as they have enough cash.
THE BACKROOM
Meanwhile, in the backroom, Nolan Prosk, leader of the vampires, a handsome, slim man, with shortish brown hair, and glowing blue eyes, sits back behind his chair smoking a long cigarette, as his lacky, or second hand man, or vampire as it were… Philip, listens to a mortal drug lord beg him for leniency in delivering payment.
“Need I remind you who this is behind me, smoking a cigarette in displeasure…” speaks Philip, causing Prosk to smile just slightly in amusement.
“I just need a bit more time Mr. Philip… And, uh… Mr. Prosk sir… Then I’ll have your money” the drug lord pleads.
“Maybe if you stopped sniffing the profits up your pathetic human nose, I would not be bothered with such things, when I should be out greeting Mr. Prosk’s guests…” continues Philip.
Meanwhile Vincent stands in the shadows watching, his green eyes glowing slightly.
“Kill him…” speaks Philip, and two security thug vampires move towards him…
“NO! NO!” yells the man, when…
Suddenly, Prosk looks towards the door.
“Wait…” speaks Prosk.
Vincent steps forward, “I sense it too…”
Prosk makes a gesture towards the security thugs, and they let the drug lord go. He runs quickly out of the room.
THE CLUB INSIDE ENTRANCE
Meanwhile an exceptionally good looking, black depped haired man steps into the club, and immediately six or more girls swoon to him…
It’s La Fon.
La Fon pays them no mind, and steps down the stairs leading in, as he casts his gaze across the dance floor.
Two security thugs move at him, as he hasn’t paid to get in, but with one gaze of his glowing red eyes, they back off into the shadows.
AN ABANDONED OFFICE BUILDING
AN OFFICE ON THE 20TH FLOOR
Roy, and Uncle Tom are eating Chinese food, while Arram stands by the window, arms crossed, peering into the night.
Suddenly she drops to one knee.
Roy jumps up, and goes to her side. “Arram, are you alright?”
Arram takes Roy’s arm, and “La Fon… He’s here… In the city…”
Uncle Tom grabs his cane, and stands. “Then we have no time to waste…” with this he loads his revolver, and one handed crossbow, and attaches them to his belt.
“NO!” Arram says loudly as she stands, holding her hand out towards her Uncle.
“You stay here… They’re looking for you,” she insists.
“And me?” inserts Roy.
“It’s him they want, they won’t be looking for you, especially when you dye your hair black…” with this she tosses Roy a bottle of black dye.
Roy catches the dye, and just looks at Arram.
PANAMA CLUB
La Fon makes his way through the dance floor, several woman following, and clawing at him.
BACKROOM
Suddenly the backroom doors open, and two vampire security thugs step into the room.
“Sir…” one of them starts to say, but then La Fon steps in passed them.
With this, Vincent steps out of the shadows. “Hello La Fon.“
La Fon looks at him, “Vincent.”
He then looks at Philip who is standing near Prosk’s desk, looking a bit nervous.
Suddenly Nolan Prosk stands “So you are La Fon… I am truly honored to meet you,” he speaks, and gestures towards a chair that La Fon might sit.
He does not sit, so Prosk sits back down.
“And you are… Nolan Prosk,” speaks La Fon.
“Yes… Yes I am.” Prosk replies.
La Fon looks around the room, which has several security thugs in it, “Some privacy would be nice…”
With this Prosk makes a gesture, and Philip, Vincent and all of the security thugs start to head out of the room
As Vincent passes by, La Fon places his hand on his shoulder “You may stay Vincent…”
Mady’s Storm
