You're never going to gusse who is working for what untill you read this episode!
Eric looked at the kids. The kids looked at him. He, without moving his head, fed a new piece of paper into his typewriter. Then he started to type, slowly and by memory alone. The kids stared back. He was sure if he could keep their gaze, they would stay still. Five hours later and it was still working. Then one of the kids looked away and started to run around. That was the straw that broke the camels back, for in a few seconds all of the children were running around on their padded feet, yipping madly. Eric slammed his head into his desk.
Josh lay in his bed and looked at the celling. Now that Sally, Ginger, Steve, Sandra and his kids had all left, leaving him alone in the room. Then the door opened and the nurse looked in on him. ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you alive?├óÔé¼┬Ø she asked in Spanish. ├óÔé¼┼ôSi├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh muttered. The nurse nodded and the door closed. Josh sighed and wished he had never come to Cuba. He was drifting off into a relatively painful sleep when a knock on the door jolted him awake. He looked at the door and blinked slowly. At first he wasn't sure if he had just been dreaming. For a while he thought that he was just dreaming, as the knock was not repeated.
Josh was about to go back to sleep when the man outside knocked again. ├óÔé¼┼ôCome in├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh said. The door opened and the police man...what was his name? Montoya. He looked tired, and his shirt was dirty. ├óÔé¼┼ôHello├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôI needed to talk to you about you're wife├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have to put her in protective custody├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya asked, pulling up a chair next to the bed and sitting down. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat!├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh almost shouted. He tried to sit up, but it caused pain to shoot through his body. He stopped trying to move. ├óÔé¼┼ôCalm down├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said ├óÔé¼┼ôCalm down!├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôSally hasn't done anything wrong!├óÔé¼┬Ø. Montoya sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôJust five minuets ago she was caught trying to solve the case├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats a crime, now? Helping?├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôActually├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said ├óÔé¼┼ôIt falls under 'Obstructing criminal justice'├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy?├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said ├óÔé¼┼ôIf you're wife and the police force are working on the same case we'll just end up stepping on each other toes├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat doesn't sound to bad├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh said. ├óÔé¼┼ôIn this case stepping on toes means accidentally shooting each other├óÔé¼┬Ø. Montoya said. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø Josh said ├óÔé¼┼ôWell...can I just talk to her├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôOkay├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said ├óÔé¼┼ôI still think protective custody would be better...├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Wishbourn walked down the hallway. Why was it that Montoya always got the exiting jobs? In that drug bust two weeks ago, Montoya had gone in with the fire team. Wishbourn was tasked with keeping the crowds of press back. Somehow the press had known a drug bust was going to happen BEFORE the Wishbourn. Now Montoya was doing the interview and Wishbourn was tasked with escorting some bumbling private detective. He hated freelancers. They thought that the police 'only' went to an official academy. He rounded the corner in the still standing one third of the prison, where the three non-destroyed cells were.
The cell was empty, the bars bent almost completely backwards. A small square of moonlight was played over the bars, casting them in a silvery light. Wishbourn slid his pistol out, wishing he had spent less time griping, more time remembering that the bumbling private detective was a werewolf. He only had standard nine millimeter rounds. If he had known he was going to be fighting a werewolf he would have brought silver nine m millimeter. Then he heard motion. He spun, bringing his gun ready. Then Sally jumped out of the darkness that shadowed part of the corridor. Wishbourn fell down. Then Sally punched him. He was out like a light.
Sally looked around the corridor. Well now she had followed the same trail the police had, witch she supposed was a good singe, broken out of prison and knocked out a detective. She was beginning to think she might be in a little too deep. Oh well. It might be an exiting. She got to the massive hole in the wall, where the two other thirds of the prison collapsed, and ran out into the street. She ducked into an ally way, a bit sad the moon was no longer shining on her. She walked deeper into the shadows, wanting to get as far into cover as she could. Now if she could just find a drug dealer, then she would be able to get to work. ├óÔé¼┼ôHey lady!├óÔé¼┬Ø someone from in the hall called in Spanish, witch Sally struggled to understand ├óÔé¼┼ôYou want some...nice things?├óÔé¼┬Ø. Sally smiled, her teeth flashing in the shadows of the ally ├óÔé¼┼ôSi├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger left Eric with the cubs and her sock. That seemed to work. Five hours later and she was sitting in her room, reading a book. Not much for her to do to night. No leads, no singe of Dracula. So she was stuck just sitting. She turned the page in her book. She was then interrupted when someone knocked on the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho is it?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is the CIA. Open the door├óÔé¼┬Ø a voice came through the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger muttered, getting up. She opened the door.
Two black shirted men stood outside, both wearing sunglasses despite the time of night. ├óÔé¼┼ôCan we come in mam?├óÔé¼┬Ø The one on the left asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôSure├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôCan I ask what this is all about? Also isn't the CIA American only?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat is true, mam, but we have always had cordial relations with the Batista regime. He had given us permission to step in with this matter├óÔé¼┬Ø the agent said, stepping into the room. His partner closed the door, staying outside to stand guard. The agent stood, while Ginger sat down on her bed. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is this all about?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou have recently come into contact with an individual many of us believe to be none other then Count Vladimir Tepes Dracula├óÔé¼┬Ø the Agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôIs this correct?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôI didn't know his unlife was...known to many people├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôIt is true that Dracula not being dead is a big bit of news. But under the order of the President we are keeping it a state secret├óÔé¼┬Ø the Agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôBecause, as of two weeks ago, Dracula was working for the CIA├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger gaped at the Agent, who continued on as if he was telling the time. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe was being used as an agent in Soviet Russia, trying to track down some ancient occult item the Soviets found├óÔé¼┬Ø the Agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôThe Soviets think this item, whatever it is, is a big deal. So when Dracula revealed himself to us three months ago we thought he was the perfect candidate to try and retrieve it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat was stupid├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said. ├óÔé¼┼ôExcuse me, mam?├óÔé¼┬Ø The agent actually sounded offended. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat was grade A stupid├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou can't trust Dracula! You can never durst Dracula!├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat proved to be correct├óÔé¼┬Ø The agent said, sounding uncomfortable ├óÔé¼┼ôBecause two weeks ago we found out that he had been leaking information to the KGB├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger blinked ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø she said. ├óÔé¼┼ôIt seemed that four months ago Dracula offered himself to the KGB as a agent. The Soviets took him up on his offer and sent him to America├óÔé¼┬Ø. Suddenly more of the puzzle made sense to Ginger. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo why are you telling me this?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôBecause├óÔé¼┬Ø the agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôAs of three minuets ago, you are working for the Central Intelligence Agency├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger blanched ├óÔé¼┼ôI...what!├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe need a vampire operative├óÔé¼┬Ø the agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôTo track down and eliminate Dracula├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy me?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôBlood testing├óÔé¼┬Ø the agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôShows a indisputable link between you're Vitiate├óÔé¼┬Ø he used the traditional word for vampire blood ├óÔé¼┼ôand his├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger gulped ├óÔé¼┼ôYou mean I'm his grand child, in a vampiric sense? I knew that├óÔé¼┬Ø she said. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood├óÔé¼┬Ø The agent said ├óÔé¼┼ôOur occult branch of the CIA has found that you, and only you, have a chance of killing Dracula and retrieving the object├óÔé¼┬Ø He held out a piece of paper ├óÔé¼┼ôWould you like to serve you're country?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôDo I get sunglasses too?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked.
Ginger looked at herself in the mirror. It was a nice suit, just like the ones the agents wore. She was also given two black gloves, black sunglasses and a suitcase. The suitcase was lined with lead, so it would stop X-rays. Inside the case was a three piece broadsword. Ginger took those piece out and placed them on her bed. She couldn't use a sword. Why had they given her a sword? Then she remembered that in the Vampire community guns were considered tactless and ineffective. She would have to ask for a gun of some sort when she reported in later. She tried fitting her weapon together and tried a few experimental swings. She cut her own arm and dropped the sword on the bed, not wanting to try again.
Steven slinked down the hallway, nervous. Sandra followed behind him. He slinked down the hallway a bit more till he got to a corner, where he poked his head around the corner. No one. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts clear├óÔé¼┬Ø he said and he and Sandra ran till they hit their room. Steve immediately jerked the door open. Then a bullet cracked past his ear. May and Jess were in the room. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø May said ├óÔé¼┼ôSorry├óÔé¼┬Ø. Steve felt his ear, witch was torn and bloody. ├óÔé¼┼ôOw├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. May stood up from the chair she had been sitting in and Jess followed ├óÔé¼┼ôYou didn't come back to you're rooms for so long, so...we decided to...stay and protect it├óÔé¼┬Ø May said. Then she hiccuped. Steve noticed the bottles around her chair. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd...protect the alcohol├óÔé¼┬Ø Steve muttered, stepping into the room. Sandra followed and closed the door.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo why did you guys leave the hotel?├óÔé¼┬Ø May asked as Steve tipped the table over. He and Sandra both pressed it against the door, making it impossible to open. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh just some things├óÔé¼┬Ø Steve said, turning back to May and Jess ├óÔé¼┼ôWe were getting a little shot up├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø May said. ├óÔé¼┼ôBy who?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jess asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe Revolucion, I think├óÔé¼┬Ø Sandra muttered. Then she brightened ├óÔé¼┼ôHey my book!├óÔé¼┬Ø she picked it up ├óÔé¼┼ôand I still have my place├óÔé¼┬Ø. She dog eared the page, not wanting to lose her place, and placed the book down. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Steve said ├óÔé¼┼ôDo you guys have guns?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course├óÔé¼┬Ø May said ├óÔé¼┼ôI've got my sniper rifle├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhere did you get that, anyway?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sandra asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôArmy surplus store├óÔé¼┬Ø May said ├óÔé¼┼ôI know the owner├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jess beamed ├óÔé¼┼ôShe also got me this swell vampire gear├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe know├óÔé¼┬Ø Sandra and Steve said.
They all sat down ├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Steve said ├óÔé¼┼ôHere's the plan....make one├óÔé¼┬Ø. May's ears perked up ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm for getting more rum├óÔé¼┬Ø she said. Steve looked over his shoulder at the bar. May had put quite a dent in the alcohol supplies, but there were still more then half the bottles there. ├óÔé¼┼ôMay├óÔé¼┬Ø Steve said ├óÔé¼┼ôThere's plenty of beer here├óÔé¼┬Ø. May nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean get more...in case we run out├óÔé¼┬Ø she said ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean we only have...fifty two bottles left. What about our fifty third bottle?├óÔé¼┬Ø. Steve sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôI think ammunition would be more important├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou have a sniper rifle, a pistol. Anything else?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôNope├óÔé¼┬Ø May shook her head ├óÔé¼┼ôBut do we really need anything more then a sniper rifle?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Steve sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôI need to go to the bathroom├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe toilet's clogged├óÔé¼┬Ø May shouted after him. Steve sighed again. He walked into the bathroom and made a soft noise of disgust. He grabbed the plunger ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't use so much damn toilet paper!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted. After a few moments the contents of the toilet slurped down the tube, making a disgusting noise. Steve groaned ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd don't eat...whatever you did last night├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôBut it tastes good!├óÔé¼┬Ø May shot back before Steve closed the door. Sandra rubbed her temples ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy did we choose Cuba?├óÔé¼┬Ø she muttered ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy not France. You guys think France is a nice place, right?├óÔé¼┬Ø. May snorted.
The kids continued to yip, despite the fact that Eric had been doing everything he could to keep them entertained. He had made shadow puppets. That had amused them for five minuets, until he ran out of animals. Then he had tried to tell them stories. That hadn't worked at all. So now he was trying to feed them. He placed milk in a large bowel and placed that bowel on the ground. The kids looked at the milk. Then they started to run around yip. Eric sighed, wondering what was wrong with milk. Then he was saved by Ginger knocking on his door. ├óÔé¼┼ôGinger!├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, opening the door. She was wearing sunglasses, and when Eric opened the door she slid them forward, looking over the lenses with a conspiratorial face on.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow do you know my name?├óÔé¼┬Ø she asked. Then she grinned ├óÔé¼┼ôI just came to pick up the kids. Steven is back and I think Sally would feel more comfortable if she knew who was taking care of her kids├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôThats okay├óÔé¼┬Ø Eric said ├óÔé¼┼ôI don't think I'm the best caretaker├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger nodded and picked up the kids. They looked at Eric and started to whine. ├óÔé¼┼ôSee you later kids├óÔé¼┬Ø Eric said, waving. They kept whining. Then one of them, Kerri perhaps, tried to wriggle out of Gingers arms. She managed it and landed on her feet. Then she placed her front paws on Eric's leg. She looked at Ginger, still making that whining noise.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh fine├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger muttered, letting the other kids go. They all ran to Eric and started to crawl all over his legs. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm going to be gone for...a while. Top secret, see├óÔé¼┬Ø. She stepped back. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood luck├óÔé¼┬Ø Eric said. Ginger nodded, smiling. They both stood there, even the kids waiting for something. Ginger nodded again. Eric nodded back. They stood there, nodding. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôI'll be going├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôRight├óÔé¼┬Ø Eric said, nodding. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said again ├óÔé¼┼ôGood by├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôRight├óÔé¼┬Ø Eric said, nodding again. Ginger took a half step back and Eric closed the door.
Ginger walked down the hall, slipping her hands into her new suits pockets. She sighed. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou should have kissed him├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim's ghostly voice murmured in her ear. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean what!├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's famous├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe is not├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, smiling. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course he's not├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said, his voice sounding ironic. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat are you on about├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôNothing├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said ├óÔé¼┼ôWatch Dracula most carefully. I don't think this is all on the level├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôRight├óÔé¼┬Ø she said. Then she concentrated and sank into the floor. She popped out inside the CIA safe house they had set aside for her.
The entire place felt...colder then where Ginger had been. She looked around. She had never actually been to the safe house, just given the coordinates. It was a messy cramped house, filled with books. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôIs this the CIA safe house├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôGinger?├óÔé¼┬Ø a voice near the front of the house said. Then Jerome walked into the back ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou're the new agent they told me to expect?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hunters: vacation
Moderator: Moderators
Nothing less then a NEW episode!
Plus...its IN THE RIGHT FORMAT!!!
Dun, dun, duuuuuuun!
├óÔé¼┼ôJerome?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked, ├óÔé¼┼ôJerome the Metronome?├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jerome looked just as shocked as she did, but after a few moments he nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah thats me. I know you're brother├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôI didn't know you worked for the CIA├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said.
├óÔé¼┼ôI didn't know YOU worked for the CIA either├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome shot back.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm here, supposedly to learn about some ways of hurting Dracula├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôHurt. Thats good├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, ├óÔé¼┼ôit means you don't think you can kill him. Thats a start├óÔé¼┬Ø.
He gestured to his room, pointing out the vials, bottles, books, cauldrons, and strange runes that littered the walls, floors and desks. There were skulls, sitting with candles partially melted over their tops, on top of bookshelves. A single massive poster covered the far wall with a pentagram on it. ├óÔé¼┼ôIsn't that...evil?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger gulped. ├óÔé¼┼ôNah├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, walking to the poster ├óÔé¼┼ôIts a symbol of protection. Now if it had two circles around it, then it would definitely be evil├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about that?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked, pointing at the upside down crucifix on it. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh...that├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, almost jumping. He walked to the crucifix, grumbling. He spun it right side up and rooted about on the floor.
Then he grabbed a nail. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn nail went lose├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome smiled. He slid it into the hole already punched in the cross and the thing stayed right side up this time. ├óÔé¼┼ôThere we go├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, turning around and looking at Ginger. ├óÔé¼┼ôNow├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôAs I was saying...Dracula can't be killed by anything I know of. However, from what I've heard he had a run in with a serious Blood Mage a few months ago and that left him smarting├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger coughed, feeling a bit embarrassed. Jerome looked at her ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you okay?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôIts just that...uh├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger stammered, feeling even more embarrassed ├óÔé¼┼ôI...I was that blood Mage├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jerome had picked up a small widget and was fiddling with while she stammered. He dropped it with a clatter, staring at Ginger.
├óÔé¼┼ôAre you telling me...├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, slowly walking to her ├óÔé¼┼ôThat you not only have mastered teleporting in this short a time, but you have also been able to best an ancient, powerful, and crazy too boot Vampire like Dracula?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah├óÔé¼┬Ø she said.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome asked, ears sticking out the side of his head and twitching like hyperactive mice.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger gulped ├óÔé¼┼ôFor one thing I am Dracula's Kin├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Jerome nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôThat would follow├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. Then the full implications of that sunk in and he blanched ├óÔé¼┼ôI wonder what...Josh would think├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôI haven't told him├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, looking at the ground ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd for a second reason my sire...I diablerized him├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jerome's ears flattened ├óÔé¼┼ôGinger├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, his voice grave ├óÔé¼┼ôI...I can't believe that you...did that├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger felt incredibly small under his gaze. Her guilt over what she had done returned in full force. Tim had said... ├óÔé¼┼ôLet me do the talking for a bit├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim whispered in her ear. ├óÔé¼┼ôJerome!├óÔé¼┬Ø a voice called. Jerome and Ginger spun. The voice had come from a mirror in the wall. Tim stood in the mirror. ├óÔé¼┼ôTim?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôTim...thats great├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôWho...who is Tim?├óÔé¼┬Ø he looked at the mirror ├óÔé¼┼ôI assume you are Tim├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, I am Lord Timothy Blackhorse, recently deceased...again├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said, bowing. When he did so he smashed his head against the mirror, almost cracking it. ├óÔé¼┼ôOw├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim winced, feeling his head. Jerome walked to the mirror, wincing at the cracks. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is amazing!├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôReally really amazing!├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Tim sighed, feeling his forehead gingerly ├óÔé¼┼ôDracula's blood grants gifts├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd one of them is affinity with blood magic, Especially mirrors and shape shifting├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôShape shifting?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome asked, ├óÔé¼┼ôI've only heard of some vampiric shifters├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôGinger would do the honors├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said, gesturing to the woman.
Ginger blushed, looking at her feet. She still wore the snappy CIA outfit they gave her, so she would keep it small. She raised her right hand and clenched it in a fist. The fist blurred, then turned black. Jerome shot straight out of his chair.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh great Mother├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome gasped, his voice barely above a whisper ├óÔé¼┼ôOh all of the spirits, both good and ill. This...this is impossible├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger caught the words, or at least the gist of them, and shook her first, the blackness sloughing off like water. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean its nifty, but-├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jerome cut her off, waving his hand.
He locked eyes with her ├óÔé¼┼ôGinger├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôListen to me very carefully├óÔé¼┬Ø he slid a book off a pile and flipped through it. He shook his head and tossed the book aside. He didn't even care that the book crumpled against the wall, he was hasty to find the book he was looking for. Then he nodded, his face still grim. He flipped the book around and gave it to Ginger. ├óÔé¼┼ôSee here├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, pointing at the picture. Ginger looked it over. It was the shape of a man, with a cloak draped around his body. In one hand he held a massive book. It took Ginger a while to realize that the red dribbles coming out of the sides of the book were blood.
The right hand of figure was held up. It was smoky and black, just like Ginger's had been a few seconds ago. The face was shrouded in blackness, unable to be seen. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis drawing was made in 1692. Salem, Massachusetts├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôThe site and date of the infamous Salem Witch Trials├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger nodded, feeling more then a little creeped out. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts not well known, but there actually was a bit of evidence that there was a out of town figure who started the whole thing. He held a book, like this, and could kill with a single touch├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger felt a chill run down her spine. She could kill with a touch, if she wanted too. Just tap someone with the...blackness around her.
├óÔé¼┼ôThis figure was known as the Son of the Devil, in Salem. He would take one's names down...and steal their soul. Then they would not listen to the word of God, and they could not bear...the touch of the sun├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said. His face quirked in a slightly smile ├óÔé¼┼ôThe puritans rejected the very idea of Vampires as mythes. They had been living in America, where there were next to no vampires, for so long...they couldn't even recognize the singes. Took it as witchcraft├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôBut what does this have to do with me?├óÔé¼┬Ø she asked.
Jerome closed his eyes. ├óÔé¼┼ôDracula translates...roughly...into Son of the Devil├óÔé¼┬Ø he said.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, her feeling of being creeped out vanishing like smoke ├óÔé¼┼ôThis tells us what we already knew. I am Dracula's kin├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôNo├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim spoke up from the mirror ├óÔé¼┼ôIt tells us that Dracula was here, in America for longer then we thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats right├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôThis means that Dracula has been around for a LONG time!├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou both keep repeating the same thing├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôBut so what if he's been here for a long time?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôBecause he has been here for a long time we can infer that he has been laying down the ground work for something big├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats a big leap├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said dryly.
├óÔé¼┼ôNot really├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said ├óÔé¼┼ôMost vampires, if around for a long time, HAVE to do something. Or they would go crazy├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôDracula is a schemer by nature. He planned the Salem witch trials. Who knows what else he planned├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôMcCarthy?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger hazarded. That brought Jerome and Tim up short. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôThats taking it a bit much now, don't you think?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger nodded. She had to get this conversation back on track somehow. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow do we...injure Dracula?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jerome sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôSame way as you did before├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôJust hit him hard, fast and try to get the artifact before him├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôAbout that├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, feeling annoyed by the 'advice' Jerome had given her, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is the artifiact?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôI don't know├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, ├óÔé¼┼ôWe only know of three Russian Occult Artifacts. All of them were owned by Rasputin. And all of them helped with long live, persistence, invulnerability. Things like that.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Ginger smiled ├óÔé¼┼ôI can see they helped him├óÔé¼┬Ø she said.
├óÔé¼┼ôEh├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, ├óÔé¼┼ôThe cannon ball to the head certainly helped├óÔé¼┬Ø
Steven Smith and Sandra Smith were, by far, the most troublesome targets that Hernandez had ever tried to kill. They were his first, but he was sure they would have been troublesome to the most experienced of assassins. Now he was lying in a pool of his own blood, wishing he was still trying to kill them. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn damn damn damnity damn├óÔé¼┬Ø he gritted his teeth against the pain, fingering the wound on his stomach. It was bleeding sluggishly. His thoughts drifted to about an hour ago. He had been meeting with Fidel...Fidel who he would die for.
├óÔé¼┼ôLeamsi├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel had said ├óÔé¼┼ôis dead├óÔé¼┬Ø. Hernandez blinked, sitting at the table across from the . Leamsi had been famous to the entire Revolution as a Fidel stand in. He had talked with foreigners, drew assassins out of hiding and protected the leader of the Revolution with his own life. He was also rumored to be unkillable, the bullets going around him, or through him without touching anything vital. He had bounced back from more injuries then Hernandez could count easily. Now he was dead. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hernandez asked. Fidel had sighed, his beard ruffling slightly as he did so.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe gave his life...to kill a traitor in our midst├óÔé¼┬Ø Castro said.
├óÔé¼┼ôWho?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hernandez asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôCount Dracula├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel said. There was silence.
├óÔé¼┼ôWho?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hernandez asked. Fidel sighed again
├óÔé¼┼ôI see├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôYou are not as well versed in history as I thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Hernandez felt a flush rise in his face, but Fidel waved his hand dismissively ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't worry├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôIgnorance is only a crime if one does not remedy it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Hernandez's lips quirked upwards slightly. ├óÔé¼┼ôI like that saying├óÔé¼┬Ø he said.
├óÔé¼┼ôAs do I├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel said, permitting a smile to broaden his face, ├óÔé¼┼ôCount Dracula is a rather infamous Nosferatu. He is known for being wily, hard to kill and very old. I need him slain├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Hernandez nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôIt shall be done├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about...the Smiths?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Fidel sighed, ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is more important. Dracula must be brought down at all costs.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hernandez nodded, ├óÔé¼┼ôVery well...I will need a bigger gun thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Fidel gestured to an aide that stood next to him. The aide pulled out a case from behind his back and flipped it open. A very very very very very large gun was placed in the case, gleaming black and shining. Words in English were printed on the sides, unreadable to Hernandez's untrained eyes. He reached out and pulled the gun out of its case. It was heavy, but usable. ├óÔé¼┼ôthis is an anti-freak pistol, Jackal class. The British are making tonnes of them by the day, shipping them to anyone who can pay. Our allies have sent us a few in case of this eventuality├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel said as Hernandez looked over the pistol, hefting its weight.
Hernandez groaned, feeling the bloody hole punched in his stomach. The Jackal lay a few inch's in front of his face, from where he dropped it. Then a boot smashed down on it, crushing the metallic gun despite its strength. The same boot nudged Hernandez onto his back. The horribly scarred figure stood above him.
├óÔé¼┼ôDid you really think this pea shooter would do anything against me?├óÔé¼┬Ø Dracula asked.
Hernandez groaned.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd you just brought one gun├óÔé¼┬Ø Dracula said, tisking softly, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat a disappointment├óÔé¼┬Ø.
They were both in the jungle, where Hernandez had tracked Dracula down. Then he had been surprised and stabbed in the stomach by the vampire. Dracula had been digging in the ground, using powers that made Hernandez's mind hurt just thinking about them. Hernandez felt like giving up, just like when he had missed Steven for the fifth time in as many hours. Then he reached into his coat ├óÔé¼┼ôWho said I brought one gun?├óÔé¼┬Ø he gasped and fired.
Dracula's head snapped back, falling into two pieces. The now mostly headless vampire staggered backwards, the explosive bullet lending itself to unbalancing him. Then he laughed, his voice sounding like it was spoken through a thick liquid.
├óÔé¼┼ôThis is going to be more fun then I thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Plus...its IN THE RIGHT FORMAT!!!
Dun, dun, duuuuuuun!
├óÔé¼┼ôJerome?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked, ├óÔé¼┼ôJerome the Metronome?├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jerome looked just as shocked as she did, but after a few moments he nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah thats me. I know you're brother├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôI didn't know you worked for the CIA├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said.
├óÔé¼┼ôI didn't know YOU worked for the CIA either├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome shot back.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm here, supposedly to learn about some ways of hurting Dracula├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôHurt. Thats good├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, ├óÔé¼┼ôit means you don't think you can kill him. Thats a start├óÔé¼┬Ø.
He gestured to his room, pointing out the vials, bottles, books, cauldrons, and strange runes that littered the walls, floors and desks. There were skulls, sitting with candles partially melted over their tops, on top of bookshelves. A single massive poster covered the far wall with a pentagram on it. ├óÔé¼┼ôIsn't that...evil?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger gulped. ├óÔé¼┼ôNah├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, walking to the poster ├óÔé¼┼ôIts a symbol of protection. Now if it had two circles around it, then it would definitely be evil├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about that?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked, pointing at the upside down crucifix on it. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh...that├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, almost jumping. He walked to the crucifix, grumbling. He spun it right side up and rooted about on the floor.
Then he grabbed a nail. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn nail went lose├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome smiled. He slid it into the hole already punched in the cross and the thing stayed right side up this time. ├óÔé¼┼ôThere we go├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, turning around and looking at Ginger. ├óÔé¼┼ôNow├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôAs I was saying...Dracula can't be killed by anything I know of. However, from what I've heard he had a run in with a serious Blood Mage a few months ago and that left him smarting├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger coughed, feeling a bit embarrassed. Jerome looked at her ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you okay?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôIts just that...uh├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger stammered, feeling even more embarrassed ├óÔé¼┼ôI...I was that blood Mage├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jerome had picked up a small widget and was fiddling with while she stammered. He dropped it with a clatter, staring at Ginger.
├óÔé¼┼ôAre you telling me...├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, slowly walking to her ├óÔé¼┼ôThat you not only have mastered teleporting in this short a time, but you have also been able to best an ancient, powerful, and crazy too boot Vampire like Dracula?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah├óÔé¼┬Ø she said.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome asked, ears sticking out the side of his head and twitching like hyperactive mice.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger gulped ├óÔé¼┼ôFor one thing I am Dracula's Kin├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Jerome nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôThat would follow├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. Then the full implications of that sunk in and he blanched ├óÔé¼┼ôI wonder what...Josh would think├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôI haven't told him├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, looking at the ground ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd for a second reason my sire...I diablerized him├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jerome's ears flattened ├óÔé¼┼ôGinger├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, his voice grave ├óÔé¼┼ôI...I can't believe that you...did that├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger felt incredibly small under his gaze. Her guilt over what she had done returned in full force. Tim had said... ├óÔé¼┼ôLet me do the talking for a bit├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim whispered in her ear. ├óÔé¼┼ôJerome!├óÔé¼┬Ø a voice called. Jerome and Ginger spun. The voice had come from a mirror in the wall. Tim stood in the mirror. ├óÔé¼┼ôTim?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôTim...thats great├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôWho...who is Tim?├óÔé¼┬Ø he looked at the mirror ├óÔé¼┼ôI assume you are Tim├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, I am Lord Timothy Blackhorse, recently deceased...again├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said, bowing. When he did so he smashed his head against the mirror, almost cracking it. ├óÔé¼┼ôOw├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim winced, feeling his head. Jerome walked to the mirror, wincing at the cracks. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is amazing!├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôReally really amazing!├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Tim sighed, feeling his forehead gingerly ├óÔé¼┼ôDracula's blood grants gifts├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd one of them is affinity with blood magic, Especially mirrors and shape shifting├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôShape shifting?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome asked, ├óÔé¼┼ôI've only heard of some vampiric shifters├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôGinger would do the honors├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said, gesturing to the woman.
Ginger blushed, looking at her feet. She still wore the snappy CIA outfit they gave her, so she would keep it small. She raised her right hand and clenched it in a fist. The fist blurred, then turned black. Jerome shot straight out of his chair.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh great Mother├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome gasped, his voice barely above a whisper ├óÔé¼┼ôOh all of the spirits, both good and ill. This...this is impossible├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger caught the words, or at least the gist of them, and shook her first, the blackness sloughing off like water. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean its nifty, but-├óÔé¼┬Ø. Jerome cut her off, waving his hand.
He locked eyes with her ├óÔé¼┼ôGinger├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôListen to me very carefully├óÔé¼┬Ø he slid a book off a pile and flipped through it. He shook his head and tossed the book aside. He didn't even care that the book crumpled against the wall, he was hasty to find the book he was looking for. Then he nodded, his face still grim. He flipped the book around and gave it to Ginger. ├óÔé¼┼ôSee here├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, pointing at the picture. Ginger looked it over. It was the shape of a man, with a cloak draped around his body. In one hand he held a massive book. It took Ginger a while to realize that the red dribbles coming out of the sides of the book were blood.
The right hand of figure was held up. It was smoky and black, just like Ginger's had been a few seconds ago. The face was shrouded in blackness, unable to be seen. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis drawing was made in 1692. Salem, Massachusetts├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôThe site and date of the infamous Salem Witch Trials├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger nodded, feeling more then a little creeped out. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts not well known, but there actually was a bit of evidence that there was a out of town figure who started the whole thing. He held a book, like this, and could kill with a single touch├óÔé¼┬Ø. Ginger felt a chill run down her spine. She could kill with a touch, if she wanted too. Just tap someone with the...blackness around her.
├óÔé¼┼ôThis figure was known as the Son of the Devil, in Salem. He would take one's names down...and steal their soul. Then they would not listen to the word of God, and they could not bear...the touch of the sun├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said. His face quirked in a slightly smile ├óÔé¼┼ôThe puritans rejected the very idea of Vampires as mythes. They had been living in America, where there were next to no vampires, for so long...they couldn't even recognize the singes. Took it as witchcraft├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôBut what does this have to do with me?├óÔé¼┬Ø she asked.
Jerome closed his eyes. ├óÔé¼┼ôDracula translates...roughly...into Son of the Devil├óÔé¼┬Ø he said.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, her feeling of being creeped out vanishing like smoke ├óÔé¼┼ôThis tells us what we already knew. I am Dracula's kin├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôNo├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim spoke up from the mirror ├óÔé¼┼ôIt tells us that Dracula was here, in America for longer then we thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats right├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôThis means that Dracula has been around for a LONG time!├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou both keep repeating the same thing├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said ├óÔé¼┼ôBut so what if he's been here for a long time?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôBecause he has been here for a long time we can infer that he has been laying down the ground work for something big├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats a big leap├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said dryly.
├óÔé¼┼ôNot really├óÔé¼┬Ø Tim said ├óÔé¼┼ôMost vampires, if around for a long time, HAVE to do something. Or they would go crazy├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôDracula is a schemer by nature. He planned the Salem witch trials. Who knows what else he planned├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôMcCarthy?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger hazarded. That brought Jerome and Tim up short. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said ├óÔé¼┼ôThats taking it a bit much now, don't you think?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Ginger nodded. She had to get this conversation back on track somehow. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow do we...injure Dracula?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jerome sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôSame way as you did before├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôJust hit him hard, fast and try to get the artifact before him├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôAbout that├óÔé¼┬Ø Ginger said, feeling annoyed by the 'advice' Jerome had given her, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is the artifiact?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôI don't know├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, ├óÔé¼┼ôWe only know of three Russian Occult Artifacts. All of them were owned by Rasputin. And all of them helped with long live, persistence, invulnerability. Things like that.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Ginger smiled ├óÔé¼┼ôI can see they helped him├óÔé¼┬Ø she said.
├óÔé¼┼ôEh├óÔé¼┬Ø Jerome said, ├óÔé¼┼ôThe cannon ball to the head certainly helped├óÔé¼┬Ø
Steven Smith and Sandra Smith were, by far, the most troublesome targets that Hernandez had ever tried to kill. They were his first, but he was sure they would have been troublesome to the most experienced of assassins. Now he was lying in a pool of his own blood, wishing he was still trying to kill them. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn damn damn damnity damn├óÔé¼┬Ø he gritted his teeth against the pain, fingering the wound on his stomach. It was bleeding sluggishly. His thoughts drifted to about an hour ago. He had been meeting with Fidel...Fidel who he would die for.
├óÔé¼┼ôLeamsi├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel had said ├óÔé¼┼ôis dead├óÔé¼┬Ø. Hernandez blinked, sitting at the table across from the . Leamsi had been famous to the entire Revolution as a Fidel stand in. He had talked with foreigners, drew assassins out of hiding and protected the leader of the Revolution with his own life. He was also rumored to be unkillable, the bullets going around him, or through him without touching anything vital. He had bounced back from more injuries then Hernandez could count easily. Now he was dead. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hernandez asked. Fidel had sighed, his beard ruffling slightly as he did so.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe gave his life...to kill a traitor in our midst├óÔé¼┬Ø Castro said.
├óÔé¼┼ôWho?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hernandez asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôCount Dracula├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel said. There was silence.
├óÔé¼┼ôWho?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hernandez asked. Fidel sighed again
├óÔé¼┼ôI see├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôYou are not as well versed in history as I thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Hernandez felt a flush rise in his face, but Fidel waved his hand dismissively ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't worry├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôIgnorance is only a crime if one does not remedy it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Hernandez's lips quirked upwards slightly. ├óÔé¼┼ôI like that saying├óÔé¼┬Ø he said.
├óÔé¼┼ôAs do I├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel said, permitting a smile to broaden his face, ├óÔé¼┼ôCount Dracula is a rather infamous Nosferatu. He is known for being wily, hard to kill and very old. I need him slain├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Hernandez nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôIt shall be done├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about...the Smiths?├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Fidel sighed, ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is more important. Dracula must be brought down at all costs.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hernandez nodded, ├óÔé¼┼ôVery well...I will need a bigger gun thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Fidel gestured to an aide that stood next to him. The aide pulled out a case from behind his back and flipped it open. A very very very very very large gun was placed in the case, gleaming black and shining. Words in English were printed on the sides, unreadable to Hernandez's untrained eyes. He reached out and pulled the gun out of its case. It was heavy, but usable. ├óÔé¼┼ôthis is an anti-freak pistol, Jackal class. The British are making tonnes of them by the day, shipping them to anyone who can pay. Our allies have sent us a few in case of this eventuality├óÔé¼┬Ø Fidel said as Hernandez looked over the pistol, hefting its weight.
Hernandez groaned, feeling the bloody hole punched in his stomach. The Jackal lay a few inch's in front of his face, from where he dropped it. Then a boot smashed down on it, crushing the metallic gun despite its strength. The same boot nudged Hernandez onto his back. The horribly scarred figure stood above him.
├óÔé¼┼ôDid you really think this pea shooter would do anything against me?├óÔé¼┬Ø Dracula asked.
Hernandez groaned.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd you just brought one gun├óÔé¼┬Ø Dracula said, tisking softly, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat a disappointment├óÔé¼┬Ø.
They were both in the jungle, where Hernandez had tracked Dracula down. Then he had been surprised and stabbed in the stomach by the vampire. Dracula had been digging in the ground, using powers that made Hernandez's mind hurt just thinking about them. Hernandez felt like giving up, just like when he had missed Steven for the fifth time in as many hours. Then he reached into his coat ├óÔé¼┼ôWho said I brought one gun?├óÔé¼┬Ø he gasped and fired.
Dracula's head snapped back, falling into two pieces. The now mostly headless vampire staggered backwards, the explosive bullet lending itself to unbalancing him. Then he laughed, his voice sounding like it was spoken through a thick liquid.
├óÔé¼┼ôThis is going to be more fun then I thought├óÔé¼┬Ø.
