Richard- United Human Faction- Night 70
Julian’s
caravan reached the militia outpost outside Omaha near midnight. The local
troops immediately began preparing the vehicles for the next stretch of the
journey to Columbus, Ohio, while the Faction drivers and travelers slowly
crawled to their pre-determined rest zones. Julian leapt out the back of his
armored transport. It was a vehicle obviously stolen from Union forces, and
sloppily painted in the grey and red of the Faction. Julian donned his mask
while he exitd, letting none catch a long look at his face. A quick glance
would be good, he must have thought. It would start rumors about the identity
of the wearer, but keep his actual face a secret. Or he was being sloppy.
“Sometimes
I wonder if you really want to wear the mask, sir,” Richard whispered as he
approached.
“So
do I, but that won’t be a problem for long, right?” Julian replied, looking up
at the tall, blonde street rat.
“Don’t
doubt me,” Richard hissed in reply.
Julian
chuckled, insulting Richard’s pride once again.
“I’m
not your goddam dog. I have the respect of every man in this city, as well as
everyone in the main defensive line, and those who once served under General
Gerrard in White Sands. I think some of them are with your attack force now. If
I showed up in that mask, they’d follow me without a single complaint.”
“I’m
sure they would, but if you were to die, who would replace you? You’re not a
safe hero, Richard, you're a figurehead. I'm safe, because I'm anonymous. There are a thousand Julians in this army, and I’m
not one of them.”
The
Masked Man no longer turned to look his men in the eyes when he spoke to them.
“You
think you’re a god now? Remaking yourself as you please?”
“You
were quite convincing back in the capital. I think I might be able to conjure a
few bolts of lightning now and then, as long as you kneel before me and maybe sacrifice a goat every once in a while.”
Richard
stopped, ready to take his rightful place earlier than planned.
“I
heard about Arya,” the Masked Man said, continuing to walk toward his personal
tent. “My man said your box of matches was missing right after the attack.”
“Are
you saying I’m killing our men?” Richard yelled, alerting several of Julian’s
personal guards. Weapons raised they approached the agent-turned-General.
“Get
out of here, he won’t kill me until I’m well out of sight. The coward doesn’t
like dealing with the cleanup,” Julian stated, beginning to chuckle.
There
was no way for Richard to turn the conversation around. He’d lost. Again.
“Remember
what John taught you, underling,” the Masked Man squeaked, “about keeping your
mouth shut. You never seem to learn your lesson. Remember that there are a
thousand men who could hold the torch.”
Julian
disappeared into his tent, and his entourage disappeared into the crowd.
Richard would have his day, and he would add a third round to his cylinder.
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