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My optics open to the light of morning- meaning another day that I am forced to spend serving my master. His name is James Luis Ferguson: Head Commander and Chief of the English Navy. He's an older man, somewhat large, and in his late 40's with patches of gray that he would call "signs of maturity"- but I know the grays only came because of his nervousness of the command finding out about how he cheated his way to his position. He was somewhat of a power hungry individual, a tyrant actually- always finding any possible way to benefit himself, all the while leaving behind a road of destruction and sometimes even the death of others.
He once told me of his key to success, and to this day I have not forgotten it
"Jonathan," he said, smoking a cigar and looking out at his troops- each aliened perfectly in their fleets. "The key to my kind of success is to keep your friends close, but your enemy's closer then squish them all like bugs when they aren't looking "
"Mary," Master Edgar said to me, holding out his hand. "Scissors."
I nodded and did as I was told, handing him the object then waited patiently for my next command.
"Needle." Again, I did what I was told, exchanging the needle for the scissors.
Minutes pasted as he sewed his patient's wound shut, the room quiet.
"Alright, that should about do it..." he said, wiping his arm across his forehead, gathering sweat. "Why don't you make the last cut?"
My eyes went wide in joy. I hurried to the edge of the bed and leaned forward, snipping the excess thread then turned to my master with a satisfied smile.
"Jolly good!" he said, flashing his perfect smile at me from behind his facemask.
"Aright Mr. Smith we are finished with your " his voice faded as I gathered the bloody tools and put them in the sink, turning on the faucet to let them rinse a bit before washing.
"Thank you Doctor!" Mr. Smith said, walking out he door with gauze taped to his new stitches. Master only nodded as he walked ou
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