WATCHING FROM THE DARKNESS
By Red Star
This is dedicated to those who lost their lives on September 9th, 2001.
DRACULESTI GROUP AMERICAN HEADQUARTERS, SEPTEMBER 9TH, 2001
Lord Ruthven, Grand Officer of the Order of the Dragon, Chairman of the Order's Intelligence and Security Department, could only helplessly note the silence that had laid claim to the building as he walked along the hallway toward the office of his Master.
The Prince of Darkness-as he was fondly called by his followers-had dismissed his building's workers for the next two days. Bruno, the Order's military chief, and Constantia, Director-General of the Breathers Department, were in the Main Office already, but Ruthven had excused himself to his own office.
Ruthven stopped before the two massive carved oak doors, with a black leather-laid folder in his hand. He looked down briefly at it. Ruthven gulped and opened the doors.
The office was grand. At one side, a fire crackled in a fireplace that had it's mantle held up by two carved griffins. A long table led down to a small series of steps that led up to a flat space that was large enough to hold two couches, a round coffee-table, a chair before said table, and a desk.
The Master's massive desk was neatly laid out. Blotter in the middle, pens and penholders adjusted so the pens pointed straight at whoever sat at the high-backed black leather chair, a lamp sitting beside the blotter, and only a newspaper on said blotter.
A pewter statue of a large curling dragon sat at the left-hand side, and an ashtray lay beside that, with a cigarette slowly smoldering away.
Bruno stood before the fireplace, his big brutish frame somewhat downcast. A long cigar was in his mouth, and a glass filled with what smelled like vodka mixed with Type-B blood was dangling from the right hand that was positioned over the fireplace. Bruno looked up at his comrade; his eyes then went back to the flames. Ruthven quietly walked past him toward the desk that dominated the room. Constantia sat on one of the couches. Her eyes turned toward him. A single tear slipped down her cheek. The gypsy always tried to keep silent when the Master was like this.
And there he stood, behind the desk. Looking out at the New York scenery.
Prince Vlad Dracula.
Ruthven cleared his throat. Dracula did not move. The Prince's pale hands were clasped behind his back, the nails sharp as ever.
"Vlad," Ruthven began. The only response he got was a slight twitching of those slightly pointed areas. "Vlad…your Grace, today's terrible incident was planned without detection by my department. Savages in a land that is on a steady road back to the Middle Ages were able to keep a plan involving the deaths of thousands from an ancient organization made up of the night's most powerful creatures. I have gallons of blood on my hands as a result of the inadequacy of my operations. Therefore," Ruthven swallowed and held up the folder, "I have decided to resign as your Chief of Intelligence."
Bruno's steady footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, and Constantia stood, shocked. Dracula did not move.
"This resignation also applies to all my corporate and Order offices. At midnight I shall clear out my desk." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a check.
"It won't replace those people, but I am donating $30 million-anonymously, of course-to New York City and the Defense Department for medical supplies and equipment." Being a member of Dracula's inner circle had it's advantages.
Ruthven put the check back and grasped his folder in his hands.
"I know you are angry with me, your Grace. I have failed you, failed the Order. I know that this is for the best. Goodbye, sir. It's been good working for you."
Ruthven moved to put his folder on the table when Dracula turned. The inner circle stepped back when they saw Dracula's eyes. They glowed with demonic flame, with liquid-like red light flowing from his eyes.
"You disappoint me, Ruthven," he said quietly, menace in his voice.
Ruthven gulped and held out the folder, "I know, Vlad, and-aaah!"
The last was said as a bolt of red light streamed from Dracula's eyes and hit the folder, which burst into flames. Ruthven dropped the folder. The flames extinguished as soon as it hit the ground.
Dracula's eyes faded a little, until they went to simply red pupils.
"You think you have failed me? Bah! You are allowed to make mistakes every now and then. You are-despite what others might say-human."
Ruthven protested, "Weren't you watching? Those…"
"I know, Ruthven. I know," replied Dracula, waving an expansive hand, "It is terrible. But this is what those savages want: resignations, lowered morale. President Bush will have nothing of it, and I most certainly will not."
Dracula gave a small smile, and clapped a hand on Ruthven's shoulder.
"Get back to work, my friend. Time is on our side; we shall make them pay for this outrage, and their blood shall be more glorious then gold.
"As for that check, it is an excellent idea. You may expect a similar donation from my account."
Ruthven blinked and stepped away.
Bruno spoke up, "What about America, my Prince? What do you believe will happen?"
Dracula smiled and approached the glass doors leading out onto the balcony of the massive skyscraper. He waved a hand, and the doors opened. Dracula stepped out, his entourage following.
"Yes, my friends, America has suffered a great loss. But she remains. She shall endure this. What are terrorists but ants hurling grains of sand at a hippopotamus? These arrogant barbarians think they have scored a glorious victory? Bah!" Dracula's eyes began glowing again as his excitement grew.
"The people you see before us will rebuild. The time will come for us to take our place as this world's rulers, yes, and then we will crush the barbarians who would do this sort of thing. But for now," Dracula smirked and turned back toward the city, a city that was a symbol of the might of a nation that had been assaulted but still stood strong, "For now, let us aid in the comfort-and vengeance of this land.
"Yes, let us wait a little longer and watch from the darkness."
On September 9, 2001, I came out of my English class and saw on a TV in the room across the scene of the World Trade Center aflame. I will never forget when I saw the first tower collapse. Later that day, our nation's leaders called it an act of war, and vowed to make war against any nation who harbored the terrorists who planned this attack.
Today, my father came home with a little U.S. flag pin that his boss handed out to all employees. Patriotism is coming to life across our country in a way unseen since the attack on Pearl Harbor.
I stand behind our military 100%! Let us wage war with all the power and fury we can muster!
Remember 9-11!
