Wasted Potential

Meet the Messenger

“Seriously what is this shit…”

Dawson said to no one in particular as he walked around his treaded camper van. The bullet holes had riddled the backside and light was streaming in from the outside. Mostly the insides were still OK. Not many had hit anything important, one lucky shot had manged to shatter the glass of one of his windows although he suspected it might have been more likely one of his associates being a little overeager in their attempts to return fire. Either way the glass was smashed and it would cost to repair it. Dawson’s face cast a look that was, to be put simply, just shy of pissed off. Since the group was planning to organize the local trade groups in order to retaliate against this group of raiders it be unlikely that his claim for the cost of repairs he’d send to the hirer would even get looked at.

“The only damage these kingstoner idiots did was to my ride and Christian is looking like he’s going to shit himself at the thought of facing them…”

Making his way inside the bullet ridden camper Dawson sat down on one of his chairs and put his face to his hands rubbing his eyes slightly at the approaching migraine. His companions were currently looting the rest of the corpses and he had some time to himself.

“My eyes do not look demonic anyways…”

He mumbled to himself as he leaned back in the chair. Just a year or two ago he would have jumped at the eye teleporting in behind him but his interactions with the American hive of beholders and just plain getting used to it stopped him from doing anything other then slumping his shoulders as it materialized behind him. A larger eye then the ones he could summon, the older the eyes got the more size they gained, Dawson recognized a more important eye when he saw one. His interaction with the United kingdoms, for lack of a better name considering the old orders had long since died, beholder hive had been strained slightly. Apparently when he was sent over from America by the hive there the UK beholders had never been informed and summoning eyes for the first time was problematic since their hive was much more rigid organizationally.

“Well if it isn’t my contact with the UK hive, how are the eye stalklings Shin.”

Dawson said to himself his flippant speech covering up how much he hated answering to the more uptight hive.

“Four of our pup eyes have faded back to the hive wounded and hurt while the two remaining have also suffered pain. What has transpired here that would cause such injury.”

“I got attacked and I defended myself alongside the eyes. Fights happen and bullets get shot what do you want me to do jump in front of anything that might hurt even the most basic eye?”

Dawson’s irritation growing slightly. He knew the UK hive valued the pup eyes almost less then the American ones yet they constantly treated them like they were an important part of their order if they got hurt under Dawson’s watch. Another reason he hated dealing with this hive.

“Yes”

“Well too bad, if you want less injuries to your eyes give me more to work with. Ever since I came here I’ve been stripped of most of my abilities, even the eye you beholders gave me doesn’t work anymore and that COST ME A LOT ASSHOLE!”

Dawson replied shouting the last part as his temper flared and got the better of him. Taking a deep breath as he squared off with the eye, standing in order to do so, he continued.

“If you want your eyes to fare better under my watch give me more to work with or get the hell out of my face. I can barely protected myself much less your eyes when we come across raiders much less a dragon that you sill want me to hunt. Also this ‘all eyes are importent’ bullshit is getting old I know you idiots value the pup eyes even less then I do and at least the American hive limited the mule eye operation to eyes that were retarded.”‚Äč

The Messenger eye mostly listened nonplussed but the last jab caused it to narrow its eyelid in anger.

“You forget your place human I leave you to your own devices now but do not think your words will always be accepted like so.”

With that the messenger eye vanished as Dawson heard his associates outside talking about survivors in the raider group. His transplanted eye throbbing slightly as he sighed and muttered to himself.

“Seriously what is with this shit…”

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