Now

The Island

"What?" wondered the Stalker, as he stood above the corpse of Judas Priest, whom he had just shot twice and stake once in the heart, "Are you kidding me? Not only did I have to go traipsing through the jungle to kill your ass, I have to hide it too? Why don't you turn into a pile of dust like all other vampires do?"

The stalker took off his night-vision goggles and rubbed his eyes, "Pathetic. The legendary Judas Priest, who stole the spear of destiny back from the Nazis, who orchestrated the jail break of twenty-seven American prisoners out of a Siberian prison camp, who saw Josephine for who she is and lived to tell the tales dying like that; like any asshole walking around the jungle at night. I read your files, I thought you were an honest to god American badass. Hell, you just got beat up by a girl five hours ago. I was hoping for more of a fight."

The stalker leaned down, grabbed Priest by the heels and started dragging him away.

"Well, like my granny used to say; life's like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're gonna get."

1968

Vietnam

"I win, Jay." said Lieutenant Dan Taylor as he pulled the stacks of five dollar bills closer to himself.

"Whoop-de-do." said Lieutenant Judas Priest as he raised the bottle of bear to himself, "I'm out of beer."

"BLUE!" yelled Taylor, "BLUE! Get yer ass in here!"

A tall private entered the tent, saluted the Lieutenants and said in thick Alabaman accent, "Sir! Private Blue had to go to the bathroom, Sir!"

"Well, you're just gonna have to do, Gump." said Taylor, "Go get us a case of beer."

"And a can of brake fluid."

"What?" asked Gump.

"You heard the man, brake fluid and a case of beer! Now, git!"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" Gump shouted as he walked out.

"All right, Jay." said Taylor, "Why don't you tell me what's really killing you?"

"You know what's killing me, Dan." said Priest as he took off his cap and scratched the top of his head.

"Jay, I know that what you saw in My Lai wasn't easy to take." said Taylor, "But you should remember we're at war."

"This isn't the way we're supposed to be fighting, what happened was unredeemable and unjustifiable."

"I know, I agree, but shit happens. Those soldiers will be dealt with, Jay, there's a lot who aren't going to stand for this kind of thing."

"Sure, the GIs, the fucking idiot Joe Blows from Texas to Maryland are the ones that are gonna take the heat. They deserve it, but the real problem, the top brass that ordered it are gonna get away scot fucking free. This isn't the way we're supposed to be fighting, this isn't the American way." said Priest then sighed.

"You know I miss world war II." said Priest as he tossed his cards on the table.

"Jesus, Jay! You had a straight flush, you coulda cleaned me out?"

"Hmm? Oh, I did, How 'bout that?" said Priest as he reached for the cigarette pack on the table and took out a cigarette, stuck it in his lips and lit it with a wooden match.

"You know, I heard that the Duke himself, Mister John Wayne visited the sixth-sixth done south, handed every man a zippo lighter that had 'Fuck Communism' engraved on it." said Taylor as he started dealing a new hand, "What do you mean you miss world war two? My grandfather fought there, he died there; my uncles who came back said it was hell on earth."

"Clarity, Dan." said Priest as he buried his head in his hands, "We were the good guys, there's no question about that. We fought because we believed in what we're fighting for, against fascism, for mankind, because we believed that everyone, no matter the color of their hair or the creed of their forefathers deserved to live in dignity, free of oppression. What the hell are we fighting for? Say we drive the reds back, do you think this monarchy, this supposedly democratic monarch we're fighting is any better?"

Gump walked in with a quart of brake fluid and a case of beer that he placed by the table, he saluted overzealously and exited.

"We're soldiers, Lieutenant; it's not for us to decide."

"I'm sick of soldiering," said Priest, "When this whole thing blows over, I'm going into retirement, for good."

"Quit yammering." said Taylor as he opened two bottles and handed one to Priest, "Have a drink, play your hand. Bohica!"

"Bohica." said Priest with a depressed smile as he took a swig, "So, the Duke was here in this hell-hole?"

"Yeah, came in with a CIA guy called Leiter. The Duke is long gone, but Leiter arrived here this morning."

"Leiter, huh? I think I know him."

Private Gump walked back in, and was interrupted in the middle of his salute.

"Knock it off, Gump. What is it?"

"Phone call for Lieutenant Priest," said Gump, "From back home, boss."

"Bohica, huh?" asked Priest as he got up, "Bend over, here it comes again."

Now

The Island

The turncoat walked into Priest's tent, feeling elated for what he'd just achieved. Filled with hubris, he thought fit to celebrate his victory by drinking Priest's liquor. He leaned down to pick up a bottle of Vodka off of the floor, took the cap off and raised it to his lips and took one great gulp.

He spat it all out, finding the taste most unexpectedly vile, coerce and blunt. He tried to stifle his coughs, as to no alert anyone to his location. And stood there for a minute, waiting for his eyes to stop tearing and his head to stop turning.

"What the hell? This isn't Vodka!"

He took another minute to make sure he was back in form, and then stepped out of the tent, walking into the neighboring one. Talbot slept on the ground, his white beard spread on his pillow. Talbot seemed at peace, for he had not had such relative luxury in what felt like eons.

The stalker regretted discarding his gun, as it would have made the second kill just as easy. He cursed himself for his arrogance, but remained confident, as it was just one man of too many years.

He pulled the pillow from under Talbot's, and before the slumbering former prisoner could express surprise from being woken up so violently, he pressed the pillow to his face.

Talbot struggled to push the man away, but to no avail. His soon to be killer was far too young and strong and well trained for him to overcome. Soon, his jerking arms started to loose their might, reduced to mere flailing.

The turncoat was filled with sudden warmth in his body, which felt like holding hands with a beautiful girl on a hot summer evening. It was a sensation he often felt, every time he killed someone. Though with the nature of the current act of murder, it allowed him to relish in the moment longer than usual. As Talbot's writhing weakened beneath his hands, he smiled with sadistic bliss.

But suddenly, his joy was interrupted. The event was a blur, but the turncoat could remember the touch of icy cold fingers on the back of his neck, as someone seized his collar and pulled him b it, tearing him away from Talbot.

Next thing he knew, he had been flung ten feet out of the tent, he landed on his backside and rolled in the sand for a bit. Once stationary, he looked at the direction of the tent and saw someone coming towards him. Back inside the tent, Talbot had recovered, though his heart was racing. He lay on his cot looking upward, wide eyed, mumbling over and over, "Thank Christ...thank Christ..."

"The fuck?!!" the turncoat grunted as he got up.

"Pathetic?" barked Priest as he angrily stomped forward, the gaping wound in his chest having healed, though was still oozing, "Me? Pathetic?!"

"Well well, back from the dead for round two, huh?" said the turncoat as he stood up, "You're dead, motherfucker!"

The turncoat was fast with his fists, managing to strike Priest twice before his third was blocked, and he was hit in the jaw with a head-butt.

"Fuck..." cursed the turncoat as he spat out a tooth.

"I knew your father in 'Nam, Gump." said Priest, "Nice guy, and just like you, he wasn't very bright. But he didn't think his shit was hotter than it was, like you do."

Forrest Gump Jr. flew into a berserker rage and lunged at Priest, hitting him in the heart, reopening his wound, and followed with a spinning kick to his head as he reeled back. He aimed a chop to the side of the neck, stunning Priest and forcing him to go down on one knee.

"I ran a piece of wood through you heart, why the hell aren't you dead?" asked Gump through gritted teeth as he attempted to kick the vampire in the neck, in an effort to break it.

"Don't believe everything you see in the movies." said Priest as he caught Gump's foot, and then swept the other leg with a kick, knocking him off his feat.

"Or everything you read in dossiers that Nemo leaves for you to conveniently find." followed Priest as he got up to his feet.

"What?" asked Gump as he jumped up to his feet, and aimed the strongest punch he could at Priest's throat.

"It was a set-up;" Priest said as he caught Gumps' wrist inches away from his throat, "Talbot, the dossiers, that fight this evening... It was all to flush you out."

Priest pulled his arm, whipped him and spinning so that he forced Gump into an unenviable position as he was standing in front of Priest with his arm being violently twisted behind him. Nearby, Talbot had exited his tent and was watching the ensuing fight.

"I think it's about time everyone found out the truth about you, how do you think we should wake everybody up?"

With one merciless, sudden move, Priest pulled Gump's arm, ripping it out of the socket.

Gump screamed bloody murder as the searing pain from his dislocated shoulder filled every single fiber in him. He screamed and screamed, loud enough for the entire camp to wake up and exit their tents to see what was going on.

"Much obliged, Forrest." Priest whispered into Gump's ear, "You can shut up, now."

I see no one was followed with last chapter's ending. Although I will admit that I made it pretty obvious when I claimed Mona and Priest had a steamy encounter. R&R.

Next Chapter: Fallen from Grace. The testimony of Forrest Gump Jr. And then we learn that something trivial that one of the opposition had previously done had dire consequences.