(no subject)
"We are all guilty. The guilt is in the hands of those who put us into this war. We have only called attention to the guilt that we all face, and the rot that has been allowed to fester in our very souls."
-La Revolution spokesperson
Edward Bond.
"Always send out a hound first. Mechanical, efficient, willing to act when other men aren't. We need humans to be more like hounds. Machines willing to follow orders."
-Vice Council Roberts
Founder of the Grammaton Clerical Order.
John Preston could practically chart how quickly his life had spiraled downward. It was his fault of course. He had been stagnate. He had allowed Jurgen's death to go unpunished. But he'd wanted to be sure that killing whoever had done it was the right thing to do.
He stood, staring down at the pale corpse of James Wilson, his superior, the Ambassador, Jurgen's replacement, and once again dead on his watch.
"The security tapes reveal a known Hemophage to be the killer. " Detective Satsuki Ryo said. She balanced the video recorder in her hands so that he could watch.
A woman, tall and athletic, delivering a lethal gunshot before she bent down, traced a finger through the blood on the floor, and left, grinning.
"....Sir? Your orders?"
Preston swallowed, "I have to make a report." The council needed to hear this. Standing, he folded his arms behind his back, "-Report the full findings to me as soon as you have them, and inform his family."
"In Libria sir?"
Libria was still said with a hint of fear and a note of distain. They'd become robots for father, the rest of the world saw it as fitting punishment for the crimes of their forebears.
"Libria, detective."
Satsuki watched the man go, shaking her head-mouth in a half-smile behind her mask. The guy was nuts, librian-
She suppressed the urge to watch his finely tuned ass walk down the hallway as she sighed and turned back to the corpse. Librians. They didn't accept that things like this were common. The vamps were always assasinating somebody.
-----
"It's confirmed?"
"...So far councilwoman." He had reached Councilwoman Estepp at her home, "All evidence points to a woman known as Violet Song Jat Shariff as the killer."
"A hemophage?" The councilwoman looked exhausted, "The place is infested with them isn't it?"
"...No ma'am." They'd all but died out, "There are a small number making a stand that they be allowed retribution for the treatment of their fellows."
Jessica Estepp put a hand to her forehead, "....If this woman is responsible, you have my permission to use all nessescary force to bring her to justice. Be swift. Be merciless. Let them know who we are and that we will not tolerate them dragging our torn nation into their jihad."
------
"...John?"
Robbie Preston was 11 now. Taller then most of his classmates and taking to school like a duck to water, "....Is everything all right?"
Preston had his pistols spread out on the table, inner workings spread across the glass table that had come in their apartment.
"Fine."
John Preston had not used that tone since he had been on prosium. Robbie flinched before moving forward, "...Is something wrong?"
Preston hesitated, "...We know who killed Jurgen." He began putting back together one of his rifles, "I'm going to find them." And kill them.
Robbie dropped his eyes to the floor, "...Who?"
"A woman." Preston snapped the weapon, "One of the resistence."
"...I thought we were the resistence dad."
Preston stopped short, "...No son."
He set his weapons down carefully on the table, "Not anymore."