My last mission was to terminate this one man.
He was powerful.
But he was a fool.
He was a fucking idiot, but that made it so much harder to kill him.
I remembered him. From another mission.
He made me fail.
I could not fail again. Failing hurt.
Maybe this was his plan. To break my brain with whatever the fuck he was up to. Say things that hurt me where I was once numb.
He dropped his weapon. Took off his helmet.
He let me strike him. But he also called out names. Declarations of friendship.
My blow was weak. Weakened by the burning in my gut. The tightening of my throat because of his words (which were FALSE).
I still managed to strike. Because he let me.
I still managed to weaken his body. Because he was an idiot.
What a fucking idiot. His grand plan was to die. I’ve never seen one like this before-
I’ve never seen one like this before?
I've never seen one like this before??
(A beaten up man with a grand plan, running into the jaws of death?) I don’t know him.
(A beaten up man with a plan, running head first into the jaws of death?) NO I don’t know him.
(A beaten up man. Did I follow him into the jaws of death?)NO.
(A man in a uniform. He kept the uniform. I wanted to see him in the ridiculous thing.) I have NEVER MET HIM. I HAVE NEVER FUCKING MET HIM.
“Then finish it.
Cause I’m with you till the end of the line.”
The pulp spoke these words. What a fucking idiot. My vision was compromised with moisture. I was being broken from the inside. It hurt. I didn’t want to be hurt. I was a soldier. I was a valuable asset. I knew my task. But I knew this man. I know him. I have alwaysknownhimandIhavelovedhimHemustnot be HURT, but he is HURT. WHAT AN IDIOT- HE LET ME HURT HIM. I should not HURT him he is MY IDIOT. This fool is MINE. This fool is-
falling.
Into the waters below.
My fool is drowning.
I dove.