The world was locked in bloody struggle, resistance forces all over the world waged their own personal wars against Mevolent, isolated from each other, most unaware that they weren't’t the only ones. Those that weren't in a resistance were in a daily fight to prove it, and everyone lived in fear of the person next to them. Everyone was an informant. Terror ruled the streets, strength ruled the sewers, mages, ruled the world.
But Trip Castalan didn’t care much for all that. You see, he was a professional thief, and any thief that wanted to last in this cutthroat world could not afford to care for what side they were on, or who was paying them to steal this three megaton nuclear device right from a vampire’s office. How many people would die from the inevitable usage of this weapon was unimportant, Trip had killed at least three times as many people with his knife in his third pocket on the right side of his coat. Good old Bill the knife. Man, runes were cool. Or were they sigils? He didn’t much care.
And this Mevolent guy, everyone said it was awful that he was in power, that he was going to bring the faceless ones back and everyone would be dead. Trip laughed at this notion. Throughout history, people had been using religion as an excuse to do inexcusable things, invade countries, commit genocide, Mevolent was doing the same. Mevolent ruled the world, and Trip knew for a fact, that he did not spend one hour a week searching for a way to return the faceless ones to their home. He claimed the side of the faceless ones, and claimed all their followers, he then used those followers to control the world, and stay in power. Mevolent had found he liked the power, and realised that if his gods returned, he would lose it all. No to mention die. He liked being a god. Mevolent wasn’t a nice bloke, but who was any more? Mevolent kept things the same, because if everything was the same, then nothing could affect his total domination. Trip liked things staying the same too, it made them easier to steal from.
Where was he? Oh yes, stealing a nuclear device. He slid through the wall, right behind a guard. For a brief second he rematerialised, and snapped the man’s neck, then slid into the vampire’s office. To his dismay, the vampire had clearly forgotten about the very convincing letter he had been sent, being invited to a tea party with ol’ king Mevvy. Blast. The vampire looked up, but as he opened his mouth, Trip spoke. “Can we not have this conversation? We both know how it’ll go. Who are you? The mail order bride you ordered. Then you’ll draw a weapon, tell me to say goodbye to life or my behind or something equally cliche, and I’ll make some remark like ‘But we only just met, how do you know if I do not fit the description in the ad yet?’ and then you snarl and attack, we fight, I win, and steal your nuke. So can we just get to the fight part already? I’m bored of this conversation.”
“Nuke? This is a logistics firm.”
“We don’t have any nukes! Well, three, on the way to former Russia, but they’re in a warehouse downtown!”
“Wait, are you a vampire?” Asked Trip, a slow realisation dawning on him.
“Ah. Sorry, could I just get the address of this building?”
“34 Glorious No-Face road.”
“34 Glorious No-Face road.”
“Oh. I wanted 35 Glorious No-Face road. Sorry about that. And, er, I may have killed a few of your employees after mistaking them as guards. I thought they were a little sluggish for vampires. And I was wondering why they were all wearing suits. Oops.”
An hour later Trip was frantically running out of the building holding a rather large bomb in his arms, a pack of vampires hot on his tail.
Another hour later he was sitting in his little hideaway in the sewers of London, counting his reward. Three bottle caps, four particularly pretty rocks, and a cool cloak that went invisible for a few minutes at a time. Overall, not a bad day’s work.