[center][h1][color=ed1c24]Deon Erickson[/color][/h1][/center]

After getting stabbed, shot, surrounded, and having his building compromised, Deon was pissed. After bracing the remains of his arm to the remains of it's respective shoulder the loose limb was finally taking to it's old home. Still weak, still damaged, but it shouldn't fall off too easily now. At least half his security staff was dead now, the other half scattered and too thin to do much. His potential base was in chaos, he could try to retake it later with a small tactical force. But that would take time, time was not something he had available to him. He no longer had the funds to build a new base, he had other facilities but non as efficient as this one. Or as home like. No... He could recover from this. Yes, things didn't go according to plan, but he still had a lot left. Soon the debt he had on his technical Nine Lives wouldn't matter. He would be leading his new army to overthrow the mortals once and for all.

Erickson made it back to his living area where he kept his personal weaponry. His blades, rifles, more bullets, and in case, some explosives. With his trench coat, and what tools he figured he would need, he was ready to go. Once he was about to leave the office he heard something... no... someone. Someone that brought joy to him like a parent returning from war, a college kid getting their tuition paid for in full with out debt, a child trying sweets for the first time, an old war monger who's ticket to freedom just awoke. "[color=fff79a]To me.[/color]" was all the voice said through it's message. Deon didn't need to be an expert to know where it was coming from, or who it was coming from.

Deon ran back into his rooms to grab an old suit that he had salvaged over the course of years. Something his father should appreciate. Too years to find the right and authentic fabric and to make it fit. But he had it now. Deon took the stairs holding the nice clothes from the late 1800's to give to his guest, trying to hide the excitement he had within him.

Once in the storage level he saw the one thing he had been waiting for his entire life. Ever since he was turned he wanted to meet him. When he heard of his death he mourned for years, when he recovered his remains he felt so much relief that he prepared operations to overthrow the human race even before the original Night Wars. "[color=ed1c24]Father.[/color]" Deon stood in shock for a moment. Then doing the one thing he knew how to do, take orders. He knelled before him, and awaited his next mission.

[center][h1][color=0072bc]Kathryn Miller[/color][/h1][/center]

Kathryn stood by as the other vampire tool over in trying to save her father. Though he had already lost a lot of blood. Even vampires could bleed out. At first it seemed turning him was working, he started waking up. Soon screaming in pain as his heart failed to keep up with the transformation and soon quit. Kathryn stood in shock as her only remaining family had just passed. Now, he lay there, blood across the floor, half turned, dying part way through the process. "[color=0054a6]I... I...[/color]" She was speechless. She didn't know what to do, what to say, part of her body was telling her to cry, but she couldn't. She even wondered if vampires had the ability to cry? "[color=0054a6]D...Daddy?[/color]" She tried to speak again. barely getting out the one word. At the age of 59 years, 11 months, and 29 days, Hank Miller had passed.