--a narrative of pain and failed efforts--
part.one
we started this league about a year or so ago. freelance sting operations. a couple ex-black-ops, some KGB defectors, and some old-school gangstas. and one smokin hot computer genius!
it was a little project we devised one day as we met together at a steakhouse. poring over my extra rare slab of expensive meat, i suddenly became nauseous. an image from a stint in Iraq popped into my head. musta been somethin about the redness of the meat on the dirtying plate before me.
Maggs looked at me strangely as i choked a little bit.
i tried to give her, and the rest of the crew, a look tellin em i'm good, but all i end up doing is glare right into their hearts. i get that way when i remember the actions of the others around me at Abu Ghraib.
"Mark, you alright, man?" Cal gives me the same look i used to get from my family, when i first got back. i want to punch him.
my stomach heaves again, and the six others around the table start panicking.
"Mark you better get movin, bro!"
"you look messed up."
i make a break for the can and my head screamed at me as i hobbled along between tables of calm patriotic citizens oblivious to everything that slowly enabled our heads of state to pull out of the UN. my knife and fork clatter against my red oak chair and thud against the maroon-carpeted floor.
seconds later i burst through the stall door furthest from the door and let go.
the images crowd my head, the charges against my detail, the abductions of the 15-year-old girls and the effed-up s--- we put them through. one of the guys from the next barracks over had showed up online fessing up to the prostitution he forced upon one girl, leading her to her own suicide by sundown. the photographs of sodomy. the legal battle and congress' failings against waterboarding and other torture methods. all the s--- that our president passed into legality... all the black ops became legal according to him.
that's when i got out. that's actually ow i met the others. i left during the same week the other black ops guys did and the ex-KGB pair put their fingers on us and we formed a band of brothers. dissenters in the fullest form. none of us loyal any longer to a flag or government.
we were a bunch of ex-war criminals venting to each other about the others' who'd been worse than us.
from the secret US arsenal there's:
**me-Mark-32-- (i did a bunch of pre-cog jobs in afghanistan and was part of the small number of folks--including Bush--who knew of 9/11 before the planes took off that morning. i've since spent time at Gitmo, Abu Ghraib, and helped operate a torture camp and prison in southern Pakistan. i helped prepare the bombers and the shooter that assassinated Bhutto a few years back, at the end of '07)
**Cal-46-- (his history in black ops is so long that he backed the guys in Somalia who took out Siad Barre in '91, and then backed the guys who took down General Aidid's clan from '93-'96, and his last job was in helping topple the Somali Transitional Federal Government--after helping them and Ethiopia come to power 6 years earlier, of course)
**Miller-38-- (this kingpin is responsible for half the police killings in Mexico, since the turn of the century. he worked for both sides and the federal green that told im what to do was all taken away once he tried to tell his story. he barely got out of El Paso with his life. he's gone off the grid as much as is possible in this country. he's on the FBI's most wanted list)
**Valentino-25-- (a product of the School of America, the first one to use his new "skills" against three governments in one day. he's supposedly dead, according to the CIA, but we're pretty sure they knew about him again by the time we met for steak that day)from the former KGB we have:
**Leo-42-- (killed 734 civilians and politicians fro capitalist nations. at one point, he had his scope on the first Bush. Kremlin threatened to disappear him if he pulled the trigger, once they learned of KGB's plot. their call saved his life by two and a half seconds. he defected after the others from that plot started vanishing as well)
**Emil-45-- (waged war against civilian Afghans and is the reason that Kosovo no longer exists. he bailed from Russia's secret killers and chess players right after he witnessed the effects of the gas he'd been implementing--on his wife and three children)and our hot techie:
**Maggs-27-- (just out of harvard law school, a very athletic runner, a quick learner, and the one who caused the 2004 blackout of northeastern US... just so she'd have no night classes on anatomy. her motivation in this cause: army-brother Frank's gone MIA. two years ago in Tehran. she'd been lookin for us for over a year by the time we all met up through different connections and sat down for dinner)---
great, so the first meeting we all have TOGETHER, and my stomach goes AWOL.
i finish wiping my mouth and wash my face for a good five minutes. Emil comes in and puts a hand on my shoulder.
in a thick Rusky accent he says, "Mark, my friend, you look like hell!"
"you'd know it, Emil." i regain my feet better, and lean back from the wall mirror. "let's get the check. i'm sick of waiting."
"already done. we're outside having a cigarette. i'm guessing you don't want one right now?"
"no, probably not. who's paying?"
Emil smiles a crafty smile, hands me a credit card. for a second i think it'll be mine. i recognize the name of an ex-senator with a horrible record. "Uncle Sam," he chides proudly.
"you son of a b----. i'm gonna like working with you!"
---
outside, i watch a few of the others desperately trying to keep the wind from their newports and black'n'milds and camels. Emil lights his half-gone Cuban cigar and hands it to me.
i take a drag and allow the smoke to circulate. fighting a gag reflex with too much recent practice, i focus on the side of the busy city street. the cabs are flyin by on this misting new york night.
Valentino comes up to me, the sweet flavor of his black'n'mild--creme--nearly knocks me off my feet.
he starts speaking, looking at me, but addressing the whole crew, "Mark, we're heading out to Geneva tomorrow. it's time we leave behind our lies and face our burdens head on. call some folks, say your goodbyes, and then you can kiss this soil goodbye come morning. chances are we'll all disappear by year's end, but before Sammy catches on to us, we'll at least be able to extradite, capture, contain, arrest, and reign in half the world's war criminals. i guess if we get lucky we'll come back by here sooner or later. if Geneva won't take us, it's no matter. we all know people. we'll make this happen.
"the flight's gonna suck and mess up your clocks, so make sure you actually sleep tonight, alright? we're no use to the free world if we're snoozing our a---- off, droolin on our AK's."
we all know the drill already, all except for Maggs. the one who'll be the most use to us, is also the one who has absolutely no extended overseas experience. a flight like this will knock her out. i pray she's prepared.
i spend enough time standin in one spot that i finish Emil's cigar. now i've gotta find my way back to our motel 6. on the other side of the river.
----- end.part.one
[all images are public domain, all characters and names are fictional, all events are possible]
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