Cha pter 0: pr ologue: T he End

John won’t let them get to him. He won’t. They can try all they want to
but aren’t gonna’ get information from him. He loves his country and
it's people too much to betray them.

He sits there waiting for them to return.What'll they do next? He wonders

to himself. What will it be?But he already knows the answer. The answer
is inevitable and cowardice to hide from. He isn't a coward.

The monsters are coming to destroy more of his body. There isn't much more
to hurt on him though; both of his arms are broken in several different places
- he has an using infected bullet wound in his shoulder - most of the hair he
still had, was pulled out forcefully - and his thumb has been cut off by
their monstrous knife, seeming to never stop bleeding - of course, they're
very creative when it comes to hurt. He knows this, because once, he was a
monster. Yes, once long ago;they're better known as an interrogators.

In his youth, as a corporal, John volunteered for the position. He'd thought
proud of himself for destroying his nations enemies, and for finding their out
there secrets.

But now he's on the receiving end of the chart and it feels differently - He
now knows that those he'd slaughtered so mercilessly were just like him
- innocent, wanting to protect the ones they loved, protect their people.

He had always been the monster and never even realized it.

He remembered a woman that he'd 'interrogated'. She was very beautiful

-even after the things he had done to her.

She had almond shaped brown eyes, a small nose, and plump deep red lips.
Her face was heart shaped at the hairline where strands and strands of shiny,
black, and wavy hair tumbled down her shoulders. Her body was that of a
goddess in the spring. Small built, curvy, and thin. She had creamy
Asian skin with just a bit of tan.

The picture of that blood stained body haunts him ever so clearly each day
he's here

His dreams remind him of what he's done every night.

He sees it now, he's back in his horrifying youth. Giddy with the power of
war:

The lovely japanese girl is huddled in a ball on her cot. She won't speak. This
girl had hidden many men that were wanted by the U.S., she is protecting
them. She refuses to betray them by letting their hiding place be known. She
must suffer for this decision.

John curls his fists; he hates this woman. She is a symbol of all of the beauty
of the country he has been sent to, but also all the evil its bringing to his
country. She may not look dangerous, but why would someone loving hide
those that are evil? The answer being they wouldn't.

John slams his clench hand into the girl's face, pushing her into the stone
cell. She cries out in pain, but still says not a word.

"Tell us!" He screams. He raises his fist. "Or I'll hit you again. you ugly
whore."

John knows that someone so gorgeous has never heard these words before,
so undoubtedly she should react.

But she doesn't. She simply rocks back and forth, back and forth.

He slaps her this time, causing tears to pull from her eyes, but still no sound.
Not even a sob escapes her mouth.

He watches the shimmering tears flow down her face and feels compassion,
but only for a nanosecond; he's now even more angry then before that he
could feel anything for an animal. That's what that country is - animals that
are trying to hurt his family, and kill his friends.

John lifts his leg and kicks in her stomach. She inhales a gasp, and falls off
the cot with a crash. but still doesn't even say stop.

"Just speak up and we'll let you go." He bends down to whisper into her ear,
"You'll go home to see your family."

This perks her ears. Good, now she'll spill.

She looks at him chagrin, and says "I av no famy lee." she spits hatingly on
his face then continues. " U kiwed dem awl!" She screeches. and then she's
quiet again.

John has had enough. He wipes the spittle of his face with his sleeve and
kicks her again. Much harder than before. He's tired of this insolence.

He is very aware of her beauty and sees it right to freely fuck her.
She deserves it - besides he hasn't jerked of in a while in the conditions of
sleeping bunk-to-bunk with men.

If she's a virgin they'll hurt REAL bad. He thinks to himself. And if she's not,
then being 'loved' by someone other than her man'll just kill her.

He feels smug at his brilliant plan. He can take care of two things with one
hard-on, which really is not hard to get once looking at her lovely body.

He picks her up by the arm and throws her against the wall. She cringes in
more pain, then sinks to the floor.

He decides to take her from behind, that way he doesn't have to look at her
face. He knows the expression she'll hold on it. Knows the struggle she'll put
up against him, but of course, that's the fun part.

He grabs her hair and yanks her up from the ground, forcing her on her all
fours.

He takes his knife out and rips the flimsy shirt she had come in,wearing off
her back, making sure all the while that the blade make paining contact with
her flesh.

She screeches from the bloody mess on her back, but doesn't struggled to
get away.

He pulls her raggedy long skirt up, piling it around her waist. Then pulls his
own pants down.

He whispers words of hatred and evil into her ear, making sure the last
comment isn't a whisper. " If you tell me where they are, we don't have to
do this." She says nothing, does nothing. So he bends over her, hands
reaching, and grabs her breasts, pulling and squeezing, for maximum hurt.

Still nothing. He grows wary of her silence, yet at the same time he is rather
happy for her wordlessness. Celibacy is making him depressed.

So he does the deed.

After he has ravished and beat her nearly to the breaking point, the lady of
death takes her own life.

Johns head is spinning. Not in pain (although it is in pain) but in memory.

He remembers every last detail of the beautiful Asian woman's limp body as
she was carried out of the interrogation room to be dumped in the pond
outside the camp.
 He remembers the very suffering in her eyes as he had no time to stop
her. He had finished taking her body and had sat down on the cot
not expecting her to move - as she had never made a bold move as of yet.
But she did. In fact she had gotten up so quickly he narely hadn't seen it.
She jumped onto the table that was placed in the corner of the room without
even so much as restraint. He was amazed at her strength.

"May de gods punish u for awl de sins of yo pepl!" She srceamed.

And that's all she would ever say again.

She dove into the hard floor as if diving into a languid lake filled with
perfume. It was as graceful and fluid as a dolphin jumping from the oceans
surface, only to return.

Then with a loud crash and crack, her head was mangled into a million ugly
red pieces.

How can a face once so peaceful and sereen in his mind, make John
so nauseous now.

In all his 55 years he had never really thought about the lady of death. In
that time she was only one of the meer hundreds that had taken their own in
front him.

But something about her was different. She had killed herself not to feel no
more pain, but she died to protect her country.

This lady of death was really the angel of death. And now he understands
her. He feels the same. He knows with the pain that's in reach of grasp,
there's a small chance in which he'll betray the ones he will die for.

He can't let that happen. He loves his daughter too much. She's everything
to him. He will not betray his love for Mia. She never deserved a cuke of a
dad like him anyways. Neither had his wife deserved him as a husband. After
All, he was monster, was he not?

He makes his choice.

He stands up on the chair. He can barely move, but he's ready to jump,
ready to sacrifice, ready to leave this earth…..but the cell door opens.

The door is stained with different colors of paint : Orange, blue, green,
purple, yellow,red,...and even pink, but he doesn't know why that is. This
distracts him from his horror for a moment.

“Sot you could escape pain, eh?” says the horrible man, of which John
withers doesn't know by name. The man hides behind a mask. He's a
coward.

But John only knows him by his knife. The beautiful long and sharp blade he
calls ‘Myinoen’ (My-in-no-En).

This blade is that of a murderer. Its seen more death than his home towns
funeral home. Its a vicious monster. Its wielders are possessed by its power.

It has a faint color of red embedded in the metal; like roses under
an acidic pools surface - tempting you to take the swim - beautiful,
but lethal. A color purposefully to remind all its victims of its purpose.

John is afraid of this blade. He knows its call to death is of agony and pain;
there’s no quick escape from its clutches.

He won’t die in the peace of taking his own blood; he’ll die by the hands of
a merciless beast.

John prays a silent prayer to God of thanks, to thank him for

Lieutenant Michaels escape from this prison. He also thanks God for the soon
reunion with his wife. He loves her so much.

And he especially thanks God for his beautiful daughter…….He asks that she
finds a good man to take care of her, and many grandchildren he can look
down from heaven and be proud of.

He silently curses this monster in his head, for no one will even know he's
gone, but for his God and his Mary. His body will never be found.

“Do you like your staying accommodations, Captain Withers?” The monster
asks as he walks toward John, blade and bat in hands. “Eh?”

And then it is black. No pain……..but also no joy………. John feels

nothing.