I told you I'd be seeing you sooner than you thought.

Well, this story won the poll, so I'll be working on it as a side project to Bloody Vengence. It may seem a little slow in the first few chapters, but I promise you things'll speed up soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, people of therefore undecided genders, I give you the first chapter of Perception & Deception. Got your popcorn ready?

They came at about two o'clock silently and without warning.

Fernando Henderfeild, alias Flippy, had just finished work early, due to some sort of holiday. In the years after the war, Flippy found it hard to keep steady work (thanks in part to Evil) but had now secured a temporary job as a desk accountant. Crunching numbers all day wasn't exactly his dream job, but hey. It put food on the table. He had said his bye byes to his coworkers and that hot receptionist chick who once brought him a cake, although if he knew at that moment that it was probably the last time he'd see them, he'd have a more heartfelt goodbye, and several kicks to the shin at his douchebag supervisor.

But I digress.

Flippy had been distracted by trying to find his keys amongst the rubbish in his front left pants pocket, when a voice spoke up from behind him. "Excuse me, Flippy?"

Flippy immediately spun around, keys in hand, and quickly saw that he was surrounded by three men in suits, each one taller and probably outweighed him. I can take them. Evil's voice from inside his head offered, but Flippy ignored him. "Who are you and what do you want?" He instead asked.

"We're here on behalf of a very important person, who wishes to have a brief talk with you." The middle suit said. Flippy pegged him to be the leader of this patrol group.

"Who?"

"That's classified information."

Figures.

"Mr. Flippy," The left suit spoke now. "We have very little time, and our employer wants to speak with you as soon as possible."

Flippy thought for a moment. "Well, if your 'employer' wishes to speak with me that badly, then they can meet me themselves."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Flippy." This time it was the one on the right. "Our employer is a very busy man."

"Please, come with us. This is a matter of national security." Middle said, while Lefty and Righty nodded encouragingly.

National security? Jesus fuck. Ask for some I.D.

"You got any I.D?" Flippy had to admit, whereas his wartime sense may be slightly out of touch, it was Evil's instincts that had saved his life many times. As if expecting this question, which they probably were, all three suits whipped out a photo ID from their front pockets. Flippy didn't have time to read the names before the cards went sent back to their pockets, but he did see them long enough to tell that they were legit.

"Time is of essence, Mr. Flippy." Lefty said.

"Does this have anything to do with my wartime life?" Or me?

"If you follow us, our employer will answer any questions you may have."

I could take them all down, you know. Snap Lefty's neck before Middle and Righty know what's going on.

Flippy pretended he didn't hear that last part. "Alright. Should I follow you in my car or are you going to be driving me?"

Flippy sat in the back seat, next to Middle, while Righty was doing the driving and Lefty was in the front passenger seat. None made any motion to talk. The radio was silent. Middle was sitting is a position so that Flippy could just see the handle of, he guessed, a Glock.47 pistol in his shoulder holster. Whether this was intentional, so as to intimidate Flippy, or accidental, he didn't know.

And frankly, didn't care. It took more than the sight of a gun to flip Flippy out, although whether these agents knew of Evil's existence inside Flippy's head was still unclear.

Lefty surprised Flippy by tossing a newspaper over the seat to him. "Have you read the news recently, Mr. Flippy?" He asked, the first thing anyone had said since getting in the car.

"Can't say that I have."

"Look on page three."

"Is it a new Garfeild comic?"

"Just look, Mr. Flippy."

Flippy shrugged, and turned the page over to three. "The shampoo ad?"

"Below that."

"The Nobel prize nominees?"

"Above that."

… Delightful. Flippy was hoping it wasn't this story.

DOZENS FOUND DEAD IN LOCAL RESEARCH CENTER!

At least 48 scientists, working and researching on behalf of the government, have been found dead in a well-renowned research center in California. The alarm was not raised until 3:pm, when a government agent look a look inside and saw all the slain bodies. Forensics estimate the victims had been dead for at least five hours before their discovery. All victims were either shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, tortured, suffocated, dismembered, or beaten to death, in almost any way. All data and information have been stolen, and what was left was partially destroyed by fire. Officers are asking anyone who might know anything about this to speak up.

Flippy tossed the newspaper to the floor and put a hand to his head. "Who would do something like that?"

"Some very bad people, Mr. Flippy."

The car stopped outside a warehouse, looking dark, dank, and run down, but the wartime instincts in Flippy was making a somewhat decent comeback, and those instincts (along with Evil's advice) that said this building was not what it seemed.

Righty parked the car near the front door, and all three suits exited the car. Flippy paused, and after a moment's hesitation, followed. He looked around the outside building, noting all the surveillance cameras and the amount of guards patrolling. Evil was already devising several escape plans, all of which included the unnecessary slaughter of, well, everyone.

"Right this way, Mr. Flippy." Middle said, having unlocked the door while Flippy was observing. Flippy was lead down a long, dark hallway, with Middle leading, Righty flanking his left, and Lefty flanking his right.

"What is this place?" Flippy asked, and immediately got a 'That's classified' from Lefty and Righty simultaneously.

Middle stopped at a door which looked like exactly like any other. He knocked twice, and pushed the door open. Lefty & Righty halted at the doorway and signaled for Flippy to enter. Flippy hesitated, but did so.

Inside the room was a desk, and about four chairs, one on each side. On the table was a tray of assorted biscuits, and a figure sat in the chair farthest away, his face masked in the shadows.

"Why am I here?" Flippy asked, trying to see into the darkness.

"You're here because at the moment, you're one of the people who I need." A familiar voice said.

"… Do I know you?"

"In a manner of speaking." The figure sat forward, revealing a familiar sight, a pinkish-purple mole with a turtleneck and dark-tinted glasses. "Hello, Flippy."

"Hello Mole." Flippy saluted, and Mole returned the salute with laziness. "I wondered why you sounded so familiar. It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"Indeed it has. It seems like only last week we were fighting the Vietman." A hint of a frown crossed Mole's face, but disappeared almost immediately after. Mole was still haunted by the memories by the war, but in a completely different way. Whereas Flippy returned from the war with his 'Evil' side unearthed, Mole had returned completely blind. A stray mortar bomb, he recalled. Eyes completely ripped to shreds by shrapnel. Otherwise uninjured, but Mole would never see again.

"So, uh, what's all this about national security and slaughters and whatnot?" Flippy asked, taking an Oreo from the tray of biscuits and twisting it apart in the traditional way.

"It's a long story. You might wanna take a seat." Mole instructed. Flippy shrugged, but did so.

"After I was… Discharged from fighting at the frontlines, I tried to find ways to help my country despite my injury. Using my other senses, I quickly became a master at traditional spying. Sadly, I'm getting old in age, and my hearings not what it used to be. I've still got my instincts, though. Those instincts have saved more that a lot of lives. These instincts, along with several notable reports, indicate that, to put it bluntly, we're about to go neck deep in shit."

"How so?"

"I trust you've read the paper report? The one about the slaughtered scientists?"

"Yeah?"

"Every single person, brutally slaughtered. Every scrap of Intel, stolen. If that information fell into the wrong hands, then to put it lightly, we're fucked."

"You always had a wonderful way with words. So then what kind of terrorist organization did this? Al-Qaeda? Religious extravagantists? A mad scientist?"

"I don't know. No-one's owned up to it. The point is, unless we take action, Flippy, a war will be coming. A war we'll be powerless to stop. We need you, Flippy. Your country needs you."

"May I ask why?"

"You're the greatest military mind since, say, Napoleon, or General Custer. I need your expertise to stop this war before it begins. Please, Flippy. From one veteran to another. No, from one friend to another. Will you help me? Help America?"

Flippy leaned back, considering his options. Could he really go back to being an accountant after today? After what he's heard? He doubted it. Mole probably had a guard ready to shoot him in the back if he said no.

"When do I start?" Flippy asked, and inside his head Evil cheered.

A smile spread across Mole's face. "I thought you'd say something like that. Follow the man who brought you in, he'll show you who you'll be working with."

Note that just because there's a line between the good side and the bad side, doesn't mean it'll be completely black and white. The good guys may do things that may be considered bad, and vicea versa for the bad guys.

Here's the stuffs you'll need to include if you're submitting your OC.

Name: (Obviously.)

Gender: (That is, if you know.)

Species: (Dog, Cat, Raccoon, Bunny, anything. Just be specific.)

Appearance: (This includes color of the fur/skin, clothes, any accessories or scars or markings or whatnot.)

Personality: (This one's actually self explanatory. If you really need an explanation, I'm going to punch you in the throat and THEN tell you. I hope you'll be paying attention.)

Basic bio: (A short version of their life. If possible, highlight their origin story if you've written it. Note this is not necessary, it's optional.)

Alignment: (Good or Evil, if possible on a scale from 1 – 10, 1 being 'Goody-Two-Shoes' and 10 being 'Satan is my bitch.')

Any other relevant information: (Anything else you think I'll need to know, like if they've got PTSD or is a superhero or whatever else you think matters. If it don't fit into any of the other categories, put it here.)

Weapon of choice: (Remington shotgun, Katana, Desert Eagle, your bare hands, whatever.)

Specialty: (Sniper, rifleman, pilot, medic, Intel, etc.)

Friends:

Rivals:

Love Interests:

So, yeah. Whether you want to submit an OC, give me your opinion on the story thus far, or want to tell me a great brand of shampoo (please don't) just click on the review button below.

DJ Shifty over & out.