The ancients recommended us to sacrifice to the Graces, but Milton sacrificed to the Devil.

Voltaire

My name is Viktor Ali Vega. Today Ill be your narrator because God or my Concept Man is chillin on their day off. Were live, televisin from my mind. Would you like to know who am I? Well, I am just a brown skinned guy who is the top black-op agent in the U.S. How do I know that I am the best at what I do? Im happy you asked? Cus I was called to The Directors office, hes the big guy, the head of The Agency. Usually when this happens there is a promotion in store or he just gonna put a bullet into my fuckin skull. Lets hope hes not lookin to put a bullet in me and this is really good news for me. The long, dim lit hallway Im currently walking in takes me directly to The Directors office. I dont know why he has takin an interest in me. Im just an ordinary fellow thats servicin his country with a few silly skills. I have a photographic memory mixed with an intense sight of murderin people in the most effective manner. Here are some examples, the guy I just walked pass twenty minutes ago bites his nails cus he just quit smokin six days ago. The guy I was in the elevator with is a southpaw but his right knee is fragile. If I was to attach him while we were on the elevator I would had to eat a powerful punch to the jaw from him and then I would have to stomp his knee in. Things like that

go through my mind every second of the day. I see people and the world differently; I have the eye for chaos, my third eye. My last mission was the day that all terrorists pray for. That random beautiful day with millions of people exposed was terrorists wet dream. April 15th 2013 - 2:46 PM Boston, Massachusetts I was sitting in a Starbucks, two blocks from my detonation points. I was sent to Boston to help strike fear into the hearts of citizens of America. If fear grows in U.S. that means my agency stays in business, were traffickers of mayhem. I am the guy my government calls to overthrow other governments, societies, gangs, armies, movements, cells, cults, and thoughts. I am the man who sees the vintage points of chaos for maximum destruction and fatalities. All I needed to do was push Enter on my laptop and then two blocks away go *KAAA BOOOOOOOOM!!!!* Thats one *KAAA BOOOOOOOOM!!!!* And there is number two. And thats how you create mayhem on Bolyston Street. Close up my laptop and calmly exit the Starbucks while everyone else is scattering in fear. I just disappeared into the crowd like the ghost I am. Now this brings me back to the end of this long hallway at the door of The Director. Time to knock at the door of destiny. *Knock, knock.* A dark, raspy voice echoes through The Directors door. The Director says, Who is it? Vikotor Vega, sir. You told my squad supervisor you wanted to see me? His dark, raspy voice calmly blurts out, Come on in, son. As Im enterin his office I noticed his office is very clean meanin he has a hint of OCD. A tall, middle aged, fit, well dressed, White man with a scared face, bald head, and a salt and pepper goatee is waerin sun glasses indoors as hes standing from his seat behind his redwood desk only to extend his right hand to me. Once our hands connected he gives me a strong, firm grip as hes slightly smiling. He then says to me,

Sit. Please sit. We sat quietly across from one another for a few seconds before we exchanged words again. Sir, you wanted to see me? He snaps out of his daydream only to say to me, Yes. Yes. Thank you for coming, son. He never removes his sun glasses; there could be something wrong with his eyes. Hm, thats kinda interestin. He says to me, Youre so young. Twenty-six, right? Yes sir. He says, At your age you have accomplished more on missions than any agent before you and your peers. Youre a gem to your country, Agent Vega. I like you, son. Youre thorough; we need more agents like yourself. Thank you sir. He says to me, I have a new position for you in the Agency, son. An agent was K.I.A. on the field a few weeks ago and we are always in need of a thorough agent in that vacated position. The position I am promoting you to is one of the highest in the Agency; actually the number two seat after mines. Youre still young, so youll be in training for a few years. There have only been four other agents before you who held this position. What the fuck?! Why is he draggin this on?! Just tell me what my new assignment is?! He then finally calmly says, From this moment on your birth name doesnt exist in any database. Viktor Ali Vega has never existed, from here on out you will be only known as Gallco. Did he just call me Gallco?! Oh no! No! No! I do not want that title. Thank you sir. When do I start? He says, Now. Fuck. Me. I thought Gallco was an urban legend until I came across him durin a mission five years ago in Iraq, durin my mission with the Parliament bombin. The man that was only known as Gallco was sent to disciple the extremist group that my unit was trainin. One of the would be leaders was being difficult with my unit and Gallco appeared out of nowhere. I didnt expect to see a good lookin Black man with a smooth face wearin a comfortin smile; almost as if you

could trust him with your life. Ha! He calmly approaches the man tellin him to do as the unit says. The man didnt take kindly of a random Black guy calmly barkin orders at him. So the man did something totally extreme by yellin at Gallco then spittin in his face. I wish he didnt do that cus Gallco was truly a ruthless man. Gallco swiftly open palm smashed the mans nose then fiercely jabbed him in his ribs; I think he broke his ribs. The man fell to his knees and Gallco snatched a machete out of an extremist soldiers hand. Gallco goes behind the injured man and kicks him in his upper back causin him to fall to his face. The man was tryin to hold himself up with his hands as blood was leakin from his nose. Gallco stands over him as he kneels forward screamin into the mans ear, You will remember me, you fucking dog! With precise, violent strokes, Gallco begins the hack at the back of the mans neck with the machete. The muffled screams of chokin on blood echoed the room. The screams of stop in Arabic and the moments that the sharp steel met with flesh were chillin. There were a few extremist soldiers begun cryin from the sight of a madman emotionlessly slaughterin one of their own. After one minute and forty seconds of hackin away the screamin finally stopped. Just a twitchin headless body lies on the floor in a pool of blood as a bloody Gallco holds the lifeless head of Mohammad Al-Bazz Ali. Gallco calmly holds the head on display showin everybody as hes starin us in our eyes. He calmly says to us, You will remember me. You will fear me. Gallco throws the head to the floor and calmly leaves out of the still, blood filled air room. From that day on no terrorist or extremist group gave any U.S. black-op unit a hard time cus the story of the wraith of Gallco will always be a night terror within their minds. Now this brings me back to The Directors office as I sit in front of him nervously staring at him. I really dont want to take this position but if I dont then I am a traitor to my country. This is some bullshit. I am a ghost/urban myth now who keep drugs flowin throughout the world. This is really some bullshit. Fuck my life! Will that be all, sir? He says, Yes. Go gather your items and meet your new right hand/driver, Agent Wong. I hate this! I really dont wanna be Gallco. The man was an animal. I really hope hes burnin in hell right now. I am not built to be an animal like him. May God bless my soul. Thank you sir. I feel like this creep is gonna stare at me while Im leavin his office. Back to this long, dim lit hallway. This idiot thats walkin pass me is headin to The Directors office. I hope he kills this

guy; hes such a waste of man. He almost got my unit killed in Libya durin the overthrow of Gaddafi. Agent whatever his name is says to me, Hey Agent Vega. Hey. Fuck you! Asshole! I really hate this job sometimes. How can I disappear from my mother and sister? All of my friends and shit, I was about to make Daisy into my girlfriend. Thats all up in smoke now. I dont know what to do. I want to run away and just be with my family but the Agency will find me just like that did with Agent Max. They will kill me and my family in front of my eyes. Really, guys, Fuck my life! What am I gonna do no *BLAM!* Fuck! He really just killed that guy! Aw, this is really fuckin bad. How the hell did I get myself into this mess? Fuck! Fuck my life! Fuck me. Elsewhere She says, Ummmm, hey, A-dub, I think you need to come look at this. He says, Whats wrong? She says, Two names were wiped out of The Agencys database. One is terminated and the other one just disappeared. He says, Hm. That mean hes dead. Rest in peace, old friend. She says, Who are you talkin about? He says, The Director just picked a new Gallco. When a new Gallco is picked from The Agencys Elite Pool the chosen agent existence disappears as if they never were born. Who was the name he picked? She says, Viktor Ali Vega. He says, Fuck! She says, Whats wrong?

Wednesday is sitting in a bus station with her laptop on her lap as shes looking over to Agent Winter, who is sitting a seat apart from her. Hes wearing a shocking facial expression as his jaw is slightly dropped. Agent Winter is slowly nodding his head as hes wearing a frazzled facial expression. Agent Winter says, Fuck! Fuck! I cant believe this! That fucking bastard did this on purpose. I cant believe you would do this to me, Ivan. Wednesday says, Whos Ivan? Whats goin on? Whats wrong, Winter? Agent Winter intensely stares Wednesday into her eyes while saying, Viktor Ali Vega is my son, Wednesday. My son is the new Gallco.

The Beginning.