Soldier of Pain By Toby Nixon


A story of youth, violence, neglect and corruption.


l'officina dei diavoli. The prelude. A man in a black suit pressing his middle finger to the side of the throat of a recently deceased man. This happened to be the victim of a gunshot wound. He wore the midnight blue battle dress uniform and smelled like he had not been the victim of a shower lately. “That’s the sixth one this month. Where do the robots get off being so morally principled?” As he put his gun away in the holster, he listened quietly. “Agent White?” Agent Blue fingered the snap back on his shoulder harness holster. “Oh, I am sorry; I was just admiring this new gun.” It was true; it was an exquisite work of art, textured sebum repellant liner, quiet action, non-traceable crystal rounds, with Desert Eagle penetration and style. “I feel like I am some kind of gangster with a license to kill.” Agent Blue pulled back his sleeve to reveal a digital watch that appeared to be a fancy diving watch that was blinking. He pressed one of the buttons and said “Yes Sir!” they both stood stock still as if saluting listening for the superior officer to give them a command. “Gentlemen, is Sgt. Atwell dead?” They looked at his body and both said “That is confirmed sir.”

You could see a nervous sweat roll down the forehead of Agent Blue. “Well report in. We have lots of work to do.” With a harmonious discord they both said “Sir” and began to walk away from Sgt. Atwell. As he hung up the phone in his office, the president of Western Securities who wore his Generals uniform in his office turned to his phone pushed a large button and said, “Send in the liaison.” The lieutenant gave him the sealed folder and he read his name off the front, “John Graham, for your eyes only, MOST SECRET,” in bright bold letters. He opened it and it had a red transparency that he would have to use against the red paper to see the words. It began, “In Summary, Retired General John Graham, Chief Executive officer of Western Securities, we understand the failures of Project Griffin, implementing cellular regeneration, muscle augmentation, bone structure augmentation and memory enhancements to decorated veteran soldiers in the hope that we will produce a more perfect soldier for the protection of the U.S. and its interests. Please eliminate all Phoenix specimens, all Phoenix scientific team members that will not be a part of Project Tetramorph, to protect national security. Initiate and administrate the later mentioned Project Tetramorph. Project Tetramorph will combine deoxyribonucleic acid of select human, animal and samples found to be of alien origin. Project Tetramorph

will place embryos in the hosts mentioned in section 7 of the body of this report. Project Tetramorph will use male and female specimens contrary to Project Griffin. Project Tetramorph will be aware of the whereabouts of Tetramorph specimens at all times. Project Tetramorph will maintain psychological control over specimens at all times using forced personality changes as detailed further in this report. Project Tetramorph will make unaware the personality programming to Tetramorph specimens as much as possible, even if it results in their injury or death. Project Tetramorph will begin training specimens in TOP SECRET conditions as soon as they are all aged three years old. Project Tetramorph will report periodically to executive staff members given authority by executive orders 74862 and 74866 part 3. Project Tetramorph will report findings of the Tetramorph scientific team directly and without fail to node 67846 of the Cheyenne Mountain complex mainframe, until the project is closed. The U.S. Treasury will payroll and finance according to executive order 74864 schedule 1 per day to an account of your choosing. Project Tetramorph is of the MOST SECRET as a matter of National Security. Please sign below and give this sheet back to Lieutenant Drow for your first payment in small and unmarked bills in good faith, at the end of this hour by secret service delivery to your office in the Trans-American base office.” “My goodness, I have never heard of a schedule one payment paid daily, have you?”

A look of shock had settled across Ret. General Graham’s face as his eyes settled on Lt. Drows’ face. “I am sorry sir I cannot engage you in conversation about the information contained in that report, I was told my life depends on it and I suppose yours does too. I am to take the signed paperwork to the Pentagon by the Trans-American tram, in this envelope… If it helps though, no I have never heard of a schedule one payment being paid out daily.” He shook his head as the ambitious man made a hmm look and signed the red sheet pulled it out and handed it back to the lieutenant, who promptly stuck it in the solid plastic envelope and said “Thank you sir,” as he nearly ran out the door. Leaving him sitting at his desk looking at the clock, “Ten minutes until, oh well I guess I have enough time to call in Blue and White to tell them the good news.” … A door opened somewhere. A white room with refrigerators with glass doors spread along the far wall accepted its guests without making them feel like they were about to be dissected by some geek with a scalpel. Some who had entered this room did not have the privilege of knowing what its use was or for that matter why it had refrigerators. Especially in the case of the Marines that were guarding it. The guests who were Mr. Graham and some guy with the right paperwork and a suit had entered with a doctor.


“One more specimen will not throw us off. We have already accommodated your request sir.” The doctor pushed his glasses up on his face. “It will just be younger than all the rest. We cannot gestate with the technology we have been given to work with. I mean do you want to set the project back a whole four months?” The doctor looked at Mr. Graham. “Well this is about patience and money spent.” Mr. Graham raised an eyebrow and said, “Actually I was thinking we could stagger the implantations over three years so that they would not be so easy to determine.” The rest of them murmured their agreements, “Hmm.” “Oh, ah.” “That’s a good idea.”



Mi Pinches’ Vida Es Loco. One day it was October and the next it was November. In the few days I remember, I was bored out of my freaking mind, the same thing, same day over and over again. Only, first it would be early then it would be late, like I was living while asleep. Only I was awake and it seemed like a few hours. In the Pink Fortress, a nasty shit hole outside one of New Orleans nicer neighborhoods I woke up walked to the Drop-in. It was a place for runaway teens like me. There would be girls; there were showers, a washer and dryer and clean socks. As I turned the corner at Esplanade to walk the half block then down the front of the building I could sense that something was different. When I turned the corner, I noticed the drop in temperature in the shadow and I saw that there were several people standing outside waiting around. One of them was smoking a cigarette. He was not standing with the junkies that seemed to not notice anything. It was Gideon, a kid who had been molested by his parents and then hung out to dry. His cigarette pack stuck out of his jean cut-off pockets. “Gideon, can I have a cigarette?” You could see him act shaken, “Yeah, yeah, you can have a cigarette, these fools here can’t. They’ve already bummed their fair share from me.” I smiled at him and tried not to make him stand in my shadow, he seemed afraid of me. Last I weighed myself, I was way over three hundred pounds and somehow could break through concrete squat walls to get in them. My knuckles were scabbed over from pinky to index, dirty and

smelly with fingernails missing. This was not abnormal, I could not even remember what each scab was from and I definitely not even considerate of it. Some were from street fights, some were from the one job I did have, fighting for money in Baton Rouge and some were from hitting just about everything in sight. Sometimes Jimmy at Sin City, or Devin at the Blue Crystal, even Janet at the Bourgeois would ask me if I could pick up the slack a little in their bars on busy nights, it was happening more and more as I built a reputation. Hell not even the Vieux Carrie Police would bother me, stopped by nothing it seemed most men were afraid of me, took every opportunity to belittle me, behind my back of course. “How about a light?” I worked my thumb as if were pushing the striker on a lighter, “Sure Tony.” He lit my cigarette like he was happy to do it. “You know, I’ll never forget when you snuck up behind that crack head took his knife and saved my life. I owe you for my life, Tony.” I looked at him gave him a crazy look. “What on earth are you talking about?” My lips pursed, my eyebrows connected and folds formed on my forehead. “You remember, that crack head outside the Bat Cave, had his knife against my throat. You know, a month ago?” He made a motion at his neck that I did not really understand. I really did not know what he was talking about. “Fuck you man, you remember. You saved my life, made that dude stab himself. You threw me down and just laughed, like it was funny.” With one cocked eyebrow, “I think you are crazy.” Then we both

started staring at the car that was slowly turning the corner. It was too slow, just crawling toward us like a spider caught in a web. It was like an old movie, only the gangsters were black, their guns and clothes were shiny, like they wanted to be noticed. It halted in the middle of the street astraddle the dotted line. The gun pointed out the window and I grabbed Gideon. I threw us into the flowers at the end of the building. “Bitch-ass fucking punks. I‘ll get rid of all of youse.” I saw chips of cinderblock fly and then I heard the car door open. “Gideon run! Over the fence and into the house. Move it!” I helped him up, “But you…” I turned him around and shoved him over the fence. “Don’t worry. Call the police, just go now.” He started to get up and move behind the house. When I peeked around the corner the gun was coming this way. He was close to the building, too close he was going to come within reach. “Don’t go over der, that old honkey is nasty in that house, he got a shotgun.” The English was broken around here, especially by gangs and in particular the guy in the car sounded like he had never seen an English textbook, much less finished high school. The rate of drop-outs in Louisiana is staggering, but In New Orleans gang membership somehow exempts children from school. I thought about how he was holding the gun. I slid as far to the corner as I could without revealing myself. As he stepped around the corner to me I pushed his gun hand and he fired. Lucky for me my body was not in the way, but the house with the nasty old man, did not fare so well. I griped the muzzle and

my hand was scalded by the next shot from the Glock 9mm that was silver and black. That hurt so bad and I felt a blister forming. I kept the shell casing from emptying and giving onto the ground and forced it to stay in the gun. In the hopes I would jam the gun. I pressed his safety as he brought his other hand up to try to overpower me. I took my other hand and brought it underneath the butt of the gun and shoved upward. I got underneath him and jerked his gun out of his hand. “Yess!!!” I got it. Suddenly I had a gun and it was facing the wrong direction, so I turned it around. I pushed the safety back over and pulled the trigger, it jammed. “Jesus fuck!” The crack head reeled in disbelief. “I shot you, I shot you.” He screamed as I tried to pull the action back then I pushed it forward, thumbed the lever and pulled the magazine out. “Gimme back my gun, you took. Then I pushed the action forward again. I shook it and the cartridge came out. I pulled the trigger again, it made a nice click. Then the nasty old man came out with a shotgun, holding my friend up by one arm. He had the shotgun in the other. “Yeah, I was right; you were trying to rob me. You fucking queer junkie punks.” I slammed in the clip and then pulled back the action, putting a round into the chamber, but I pointed it at the gangbanger. “Sir, did you call the police?” His wife was peeking out the door. “No, I thought I’d shoot you myself.” I just looked at him and shook my head. “Look, if you shoot us now, it is murder.” The gangbanger started wetting his pants. “Ma’am, please go inside and call the police.”

She kind of snorted, with nose rising in elevation, “No one is going to come into my house and tell me what to do. You bastards have terrorized the neighborhood ever since that place opened up next door.” I laughed and shook my head. “You do not understand what is going on here. That gangbanger was going to shoot us and Gideon ran behind your house to seek cover. This is his gun, go and call the police before you go to jail today for being an accessory to murder or attempted murder.” She mumbled something unintelligent and slammed the door. “Honey, I can deal with these little punks.” The old man said. The car started to leave. “Hey don’t leave me bro!” The old man clicked the firing pins down on empty cartridges. Then I pointed my gun at him and

said. “If you don’t let my friend go, I will shoot you.” He started to get red and said, “Now I am going to kill you little punks,” and he pointed the shoot gun at Gideon. “No you are not you have no shells in that gun, its empty. So let him go and just go back inside and wait for the police.” Gideon shivered and swallowed. The car started off racing down the street turned the corner and backfired. “YOU put that gun down and go back inside or I will rob you of something. You need to be objective about this sir, give a guy the benefit of the doubt. What are you going to do?” I started walking toward him and kept the sights trained on him. He let Gideon go and started in to his pockets. I lunged for him, “NO, I said PUT the Fucking GUN DOWN NOW!” My gun was in his face and I was feeling inclined to shoot him. “You Fucking Fuck, what

are you insane commie bastards always doping up for to rob old men like me?” He stopped digging in his pockets and I grabbed the shotgun and he finally let go. I felt a shadow behind me, I took a step back. I hit the gangbanger with the shotgun stock only half turning around. I threw the shotgun over the fence into the yard. I looked over my shoulder and the gangbanger was just out cold laying half out in the street snoring like he was just passed out drunk. I lowered the gun and put the safety on. “Look why do you think that Gideon was trying to rob you?” He was red and sweaty, “Because his stupid junkie ass came in my living room.” “Well you are wrong,” I took another step back, “wrong answer. Did he not knock on your patio door?” I turned to Gideon, “Did you knock?” Gideon grunted a little, “yeah, I did, but…” I interrupted him, “See there was an emergency and he wanted you to call the police, that’s not trying to rob you.” The old man was obviously upset at his own stupidity, “you are lying.” “Did he not ask you to call the police?” I said. The old man’s face was barely recognizable for the stress and his speech was broken. “That’s because you are crazy. You are a mad junkie trying to rob me.” “Listen you have nothing in that house I want, you have nothing I want because these particular crack heads keep robbing you. They are an organized crime organization that robs people. We are homeless kids who panhandle and a couple of kids might be junkies but most of us were just put out of our homes and we have nowhere else to go.” His chest was heaving with frustration. “No you are a gang of thieves and that

place, right there is where you get your needles.” I slapped him hard with my free hand and said. ”If you ever say that about me again, I will beat you so bad you’ll wish I had shot you!” I sighed, “My dad would beat the shit out of me, I went to C.P.S., I went to the councilor at school. I could not do any-fucking-thing, except throw caution to the wind and give my life to the suck ass streets, can you understand that?” He started holding his chest, “You are a liar.” “Fuck you. You are ass backwards.” A siren sounded from far away, “No that’s the police, now you are going to go to jail for robbing me.” I snickered and shook my head again, “Well, when the police get here you will be grateful. This is probably the same gangbangers that have been robbing you. You are a fucking stupid asshole aren’t you?” Gideon started to fidget by rocking back and forth. “Look, I have a warrant; I do not want to be here when they get here.” stared wide eyed at Gideon, “Hey don’t go, or I won’t have any witnesses except for old asshole.” Gideon started running off. “Gideon don’t do it, you are making it look like you are guilty if you run.” The old man’s face started to flush, “the police officer will never believe you.” In cold response, I said, “You look like you should go into the house and sit and wait for this to get sorted out.” I am going to go and wait across the street there and take the magazine out of this gun and just sit here on your stoop and drink some iced tea and cool off or you are going to have to go to the hospital… Oh and do not put shells in that shotgun or you will be going to the morgue.”


I turned and walked diagonally across the street and Miranda stepped out of her stoop. “Are you all right? I saw what happened. I called the police.” I smiled at her and said, “I need a baggie for this gun,” and took it by the handle, “Make that three baggies.” She frowned, “uh, I thought you got shot, are you bleeding?” I pointed towards her door, “please go and get the baggies, now please the cops are right around the corner.” She obliged and came back out in a minute and gave me the baggies. “I took the gun apart and put the gun in one, the magazine in another and the bullets in another. I saw her pull out a cigarette, “Thanks, may I please have a cigarette.” She obliged and smiled at me looking like she was deeply trying to analyze me. I put the baggies down and gave her a hug; she rubbed my back she got warm in my arms. I was going to come out and invite you in to smoke a joint, before I heard the gunshots and watched from that window right there, you are crazy and daring.” I shrugged as the cop rolled up and I walked towards the car on the sidewalk and sat down. The cop got out and asked me, “Who called the police? “ I said, “We did officer,” I pointed at the gun and then at the crack head, “That crack head right there, he came I guess to cull street kids and he found the wrong kid to mess with.” He goes, “I see,” and he took a couple of steps and picked up the gun baggies, opened the door of his car and placed the gun on his seat. ”Miranda actually called, she at least saw what happened through her window.” He fidgeted “Are you one of the Clients of the drop15

in?” I looked at him with a quizzical look, “What does that have to do with anything officer?” He just started taking out his hand cuffs. I sighed and said “Uhm, well I guess you’ll just not believe anything I say then right?” He grimaced and said, “No, I also got a call about a robbery with two white guys from that house.” I sighed and shook my head. “Look I told my friend to get them to call the police; I think they misunderstood our intent.” He just waved me up to my feet and shook his cuffs. “Ok officer, I’ll wear them if that’s what makes you feel comfortable.” Another police cruiser pulled up behind him. I got up, put out my cigarette and he turned me around and I put out my feet and he just grabbed one arm and then the other and put them behind my back. “My father trains cops like you, I am just doing my good deed for the kids, my family, the same thing you are doing. That crack head is going to wake up and run off as soon as he sees you. So you’d better put him in handcuffs and listen to what we have to say.” He shoved me down on the sidewalk. “Don’t tell me what to do, or I will beat you up.” I snorted and rolled my eyes. Miranda walked over to the cop and said, “I called you because that gang banger started shooting at him.” He started to put his hands on her and an officer with stripes came up and said,”Hey you can’t touch her. She called the police and she lives in this building I know her. Why don’t you go talk to the family in that house?” Her roommate and some guy who lived in the building came out. The crack head started to stir and he stood up. ”Where is that bitch, Jamal?” He said. Miranda and the other two pointed at

the crack head, “That’s the guy who shot at him, get him before he runs off.” Miranda said quietly. The officer pulled out his pistol with a smooth movement. “Hold it right there. Put your hands up.” He started to run; the officer then starts chasing him down the street. “Oh my god, look at how they treat you.” One of the guys from Miranda’s building said. Dirt and Stick walked around the corner and due to their inebriated state they did not even flinch as the crack head ran right into them they grabbed him and all four of them went down in a mess that resembled a twister pile. They screamed “Police Brutality!” and before long the big black veteran cop had all three of them in handcuffs and he was walking back to his car with the crack head. He then goes over and says to Dirt and Stick and says “Thanks for stopping that guy, you guys are drunk and I ought to take you in but I am going to give you a break today. You should just go upstairs and wait until we leave to come out. Just then an ambulance siren started up on Esplanade and started coming this way. He un-cuffed them and they started slurring something unintelligible about lawsuits and Dirt shook his fist at the cop, he just lunged at them and said, “Get out of here, I am busy with this mess, I’ll charge you for assault on an officer if you don’t get in there right now, now MOVE!” They tripped over each other getting in the door of the drop-in. He walked back across the street tucking his shirt back in and dusting himself off, straitening his uniform. “Now Miranda, George and Selena right, what happened here?” They were all

smiling at him. “Oh that guy,” Miranda pointed towards the cop car, “he started shooting out of his friends’ car at Tony and Gideon. Tony yelled at Gideon to get behind the house and get them to call the police. Which I did.” The cop looked at me and asked, “Is this true? Where is the gun now?” “I gave it to officer asshole interviewing old man asshole. It is on the driver’s seat of his car.” I said with a smirk. “He walked over to the car and shut the door. “Ok, how did you get it then Tony?” He said disbelievingly. “I took it from him; you should do a criminal background check on me, David Mott.” He crossed his arms and said “Thought you said your name was Tony?” I shook my head again and said “It’s a nick name officer. It’s not illegal to have an alias. I am asking you to run my name.” The Sergeant reached over to his radio mike and started to hold down the transmit and looked over at me instead. “Is your daddy Daniel Mott?” I spoke up quick and said “Yes sir. “ He thought for a second “Oh, now I understand, what are you doing down here? I heard your daddy was looking for you. You should call him I hear the F.B.I. want to talk to you, but they would not say why and there is no warrant. So we won’t worry about that now.” “Well, I know who you are. I need to take the statements from all the people in the apartment building and you… Well you told me what happened, didn’t you?” He scratched his chin. You told the kid over there to go in the house?” I shook my head and just as I was opening my mouth to say ‘butt’, Miranda spoke to the officer. “I heard him yelling at Gideon to get them to call the police.

That old man is petty and obtuse he came out with an empty shot gun and did not call the police.” The officer had one eyebrow working as he was clearly forming an opinion about the situation. “So where is Gideon now?” The officer dramatically looked around and then back at us and then just me. “Gideon has a small warrant, so he ran off, I told him not to run.” I looked down at the ground. I just shook my head. Just then, the ambulance came pulling down the street and parked itself outside of the old man’s house. In minutes, they had him strapped into the gurney and the officer was shaking his head as the woman was screaming about how they were going to sue the Police department and burn down the drop-in. Moments later an A.P.B. went out and an officer responded and said that he had found someone matching the description within a few blocks. The check came back on the gangbanger in the car. A long rap sheet wanted in suspicion of several burglaries and was a documented member of a gang in the area... Upon hearing this, the officer told me to stand up and turn away from him. I always got a rush when they took the handcuffs off. “You are not free to go

yet, but I do not believe we are here for you or that you are going to run away. Just sit down; we are just waiting on your friend.” Cop cars started to pile up on Kerlerec. I wrenched my wrists and looked about before I sat back down. John who was late and looking like he had a hangover had already opened the drop-in door and was watching from his office window.

As cops like

trained mice took pictures of the gunshots on the house and the drop-in building. The March New Orleans sun beat down at a sultry but nice 85 degrees at least I was wearing shorts. Then another cop rolled up in his car with his lights on but no siren, he rolled down the window and said “Got your guy signed sealed and delivered.” “Yeah well, get him out here and get going. You should wrap up a few of those Rampart st. Seventh ward gang idiots out there selling crack cause we got ourselves a connecting robbery case as soon as we get what car they were driving. This kid right here,” He pointed at me and it made me uncomfortable, “solved the crime for us. We can get them on the Rico act now that we have such a substantial case and I’d bet that Pawn shop owner we got for the racket has all the stolen goods from this neighborhood.” The other cop snorted and said “Yessa Massa, me be good nigga yes, me get shot today sur! Me get big bullet holes for Yousa massa!” as he opened the door to let Gideon out and then switched handcuffs on him before the cop got back in his car and drove off to get more coffee. “Well Mr. Gideon did you scare the living daylights out of that couple.” My face reddened and scrunched up, “What did you expect me to do? Use him as a body shield.” The cop crossed his arms and pointed at Gideon, “Did you enter the sliding back door?” Gideon just nodded at first, “I was not there to rob them. I beat on the door and tried to get them to come to but when they saw me they would not.” The sergeant sighed, “We know what happened and why you did it, but that’s burglary.” “It was an emergency

situation, sir! We did only what we had to.” The sergeant unfolded his arms and started pointing at Gideon, “Never go into a house like that, never, you are so lucky that you had witnesses, hell I should take you both to jail right now.” I had my hands out palms up, “Officer that is not reasonable.” “That old man had a heart attack, because you told him to break into the house to make a 911 call.” “Not break in, make them call the police.” “You don’t do that by breaking into...” “Nothing’s broken why does it matter?” “It matters because it’s illegal.” “It was an emergency, he had to.” “He could have just waited outside, in the backyard unless the gangbanger was going to come in the backyard. I am not going to charge you with burglary, but you did not stick around so I don’t owe you any favors. If you have a warrant, I am going to take you in. And you, Tony who do you think you are, some kind of macho super hero? That was just stupid.” He opened the back of his car, Gideon looked terrified, “if you would have stayed and cooperated I could have overlooked your warrant, but now I have to take you to jail. Besides, I want to finish my paperwork and go home. David Mott, you will be contacted by the F.B.I. I am sure they are on their way here so take a shower up there and get something to eat.”



Ag an trócaire devils. I turned the tap and warm water flowed over me. I moaned in ecstasy. The drop-in had Gumbo for lunch, but it was the shower and the washing machines that held dear to my heart. Oh god, the shower was so good. I lathered up and stared down at my clothes. Was I wearing that? The wife beater and shorts with wallet sticking out of it. All I remember is getting up and putting them on, but I was wearing something else. I feel so tired. The water poured over my body like the perplexing nature of my ponder. Something didn’t feel right. My wrists ached where hand cuffs had

been… they hadn’t been there that long. I wrenched my wrists and let go and stared at them. There were no marks where they had been. Then the doorknob turned as I watched vacantly. “Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.” I turned the tap back to the left. The doorknob went back and forth. I reached out and held it. Whoever it was, was no slouch, he had a firm grip on it and was now twisting it in my hand, to my chagrin. “Hey wait a fucking minute!” I flicked the lock open and hit him with the door causing him to fall flat of his back. I saw a suit, dark blue with a goldenrod tie with earthy pinstripes. Some other figures were around but I could only count four and none of them were Kids. I shut and locked the door back quickly and started getting on my shorts and my wife beater. “We’ll break the door down if we have to Mr. Mott.” There were more shadows and shuffling at the foot of the door. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

So this was how it was going to be? I looked down at my boots and they were tied tight with my socks over top of them. I tucked in my shirt, popped my neck and fingers and “Ich Will” out the door I went with a jump, surprising the six on the other side throwing them for and making room for me in the middle. I swear, it was a moment out of the matrix, here there were six, SIX, men in black attacking me in my Drop-in center, when I should be selecting which dirty squat mattress I should fuck tonight or if I want to pick up some college pussy from the Quarter… But this would definitely do. If the kids could only see me now… Speaking of which, they can’t and that idiots electrical impulses are controlling a fist speeding toward a violent resolution with my head. A fist from the right was grabbed at the wrist pulled forward a bit while I gave a palm to its elbow. He gave a noise and I knew it would take a hot minute for him to recover. As I looked to the left there was an extendable baton extending and I smiled as I kicked its owner in the solar plexus with the giant heel of my logging boots and grabbed the round tip pulling it out of his hand as he was exhaling his full lungs making them completely empty. Then I flipped the baton around and swatted three nice clean cut men in their well groomed heads making them hold them and growl. The little guy made this Scream as he was coming up from being waylaid on the floor by the door. But I kicked him hard in the chin and he reversed directions coughing out blood as his sun

glasses came halfway off his face revealing that he was no longer a threat. The new Drop-in Manager peaked out of the office and said “don’t fight.“ When a flash came next to me, on my right again and someone looking like they had just less authority than grey hair, was holding some sort of gun. There were electrical wires coming out of it and it was connected to my shirt. I grabbed them and tore them off. A hand on my left was reaching out to me and I grabbed it and slung the not so special man in black into the far window but not so much that he went out of it, after all it is not that big of a window. I felt the clicks of that weird gun again and the impact of the clamps on my clothes and I felt a powerful shock as I pulled them off. It took my breath away and I had trouble stepping closer to him. I lunged toward him, but my right arm ended up in a hand cuff, which he used to pull me toward him as I felt more of those little clamps on my clothes. “David Mott, you are under arrest by the United States Government.” He sprayed some gas in my face. It hurt my eyes and then everything went dark, I was in this hole and all I could see was the washer and dryer and my thoughts were, my clean clothes! I did not get to change damn it! … When I woke up I was a wreck. I was bleeding from swollen eyes, nose and from several places, I don’t want to mention out of respect for your stupid sensibilities you prude. I

smelled like all that dried blood and piss and crap. I must have looked like shit laying there in the middle of the dark blue cell. Hog tied and busted up like I was beaten by the Vieux Carrie Police Department. But instead it wasn’t them this time. This time it was for real. They said United States Government. And when you get beaten by the United States Government, they make sure you remember it. There was a clamor at the cell door but I was turned away and could not see. Soon I felt a needle and there I was again in that hole. This time, I was wondering where my lawyer was… It’s not like I had gone on a killing spree or something. Something inside me told me this was different. If the blue instead of orange or brown paint did not give it away. I dreamed of that school again. A school of fighting and warfare. A place I had never been, where I was saying things I would never say. Déjà vu, not just a game from Intendo folks. Well, I guess I should tell you why I am homeless right about now. First of all, to say I knew left a lot of things out. Cause really, I just had this overwhelming urge to leave because my father was beating the crap out of me. That was a given. But there was this deeper voice telling me that I had to get in control. Or was it telling me that it needed to get in control. Begging me to be in control. Something was not right and I was simply in need of knowing what that was. I know what to do. As if… Things were not as they seemed. Jennifer. Who was this girl and why did I love her. She was in my dreams, when I cried out her disembodied form was lying next

to me. I’ve never told anyone; why I am telling you this I will never know. But when you are in a cell doped with some knockout drug I guess the fictious audience hears all the tasty bits. This wasn’t the good drugs I was normally acquainted with like Pot, Acid or Mushrooms this was like the shit they gave you to make you talk to tell everything, but different, am I talking in my sleep. I can’t open my eyes, but they are opened. Find Jennifer. There it was, my current mission was to locate some dream girl who would probably never love me and not even know me. I felt I knew her. Veni Vidi Vici. I came, I saw, I conquered. The words were in that battle school. Frater in Telum. Written, no painted on the wall and sometimes on the floor in blood. There were others but I could not see their faces. Vos Es Mei Hodie. These words mean something. When I awoke, I was no longer bound. I was lying in a pool of slobber, hungry and looking at a big plate of food. I sucked it down unceremoniously. With no fork I noticed that the swelling and most of the pain had gone away. Then I noticed there was a plastic chair and a B.D.U. with a opened pack of Wides and a note sticking out of them. The note read: “You are in some serious trouble kid and we can’t just get you out or extract you, tell me please that you did not do it for real this time. Anyway, you don’t have any guards, the animals beat you good and they’ve been reprimanded. I called in our medic and you’ve been fixed up. Don’t give me any trouble now okay David. Smoke a cigarette and that and wait, it will be a

while before they can interview you. Unfortunately you can’t leave the cell, trust me, I am right outside, no one is here but me. You take a shower you smell of dead blood.” A lighter was under the pack of cigs inside there were 18 cigarettes and one joint. So I smoked the cigarette and thought of whom that might be outside the cell.



Der Bauch Des Tieres Telera had her nails digging into his face and her spit dripping down his face. “If you ever, don’t call, his handlers again you will live out the rest of your life in a Siberian work camp! Do you understand me?” As she flinched against him, a coughed response came from the man in black. “I can’t hear you so I guess I had better let you breathe for a second.” She loosened her grip on his esophagus as the short woman stepped down from her tip toes. “Now do we have a clear understanding about the sensitive nature of the program? We have clearances you don’t even know about, hell the president is on a need to know basis here. I can de nut you right now and say it was for National Security and walk around with your nuts hanging off my knife and it would not be considered cruel and unusual punishment. That kid, our kids are a national treasure. You want him, you call us, you arrest him and you arrest us. I don’t care who he killed. He is a killing machine that is just what the fuck he does! He kills! He could wipe every genetic trace of you from the face of the planet and we would tell him he did a job well done. You are just an insignificant agent working for the lowly EEF BEE EYE! You are not going to get a commendation for bringing in David Mott; you are going to be demoted. We are on the same side. Didn’t you get the memo that only qualified members of the handler team was even supposed to look at him cross-eyed. You are not to know about his existence. Now we have to explain to some federal judge what the fuck happened. This is not a legal enquiry

this is a kidnapping of United States Highly Classified Property, kind of like stealing a nuclear warhead from the Pentagon, from the hands of the President. Now since you fucked up, we have to clean up. You wanted to shine your badge with a serial killer. Well guess what you get the booby prize motherfucker. For a certain time, agents are going to beat you until we get tired of spending the money and trust me our money does not run out. You just opened this project up to scrutiny by the public, by the New Orleans Sheriff’s department and now I have to interview both personalities in front of a judge and explain to him how important it is to save his life. That is your fault, motherfucker. We already know what he does. He kills. We created a goddamned serial killer a double personalitied killing machine only separated from you by a few good genes. You’d better be glad I am not putting you in there with him, because I will if that is what it takes to convince. But I was asked to relieve you and your agents not kill you, so I suggest you take your little balls and that shabby halfwit gang of suited thugs and get the fuck out of the state of Louisiana before I change my motherfucking mind. You sorry sack of shit!!” The big man started crying as the curve of her knife sliced through his pants and just nicked his hanging balls. Very humiliating; but it’s an effective symbol for him when he orders his men out of the building. “Get out of here right now! Move it! Move it! Move it! Out now, if I so much as see you having a beer on Bourbon Street I will be using your balls as dangling dice in my car.”

… Before you know it… The General had a nice grin on his face, feigning somewhere between sexual satisfaction and whoremongering. If he did not have his eyes open you would have thought he was asleep. The Central Intelligence Agency had said they were going to send their best psychoanalyst and lie detector. What they got was a thick glasses wearing, stapler fondler, that should have been meagerly complaining that his Office Space was too small, dweeb. “Vos Es Mei Hodie. Come here David; answer all the questions that the General and the Analyst have for you. No outbursts; that will make this go as quickly as possible.” “David, when you were walking to the quarter at 1am last night, did you encounter a little girl and a man at 222 Rampart?” He was patting his red stapler as he said this. David looked around and said, “I was never on Rampart last night. I was sleeping.” The Stapler Dweeb’s expression made his already narrow looking face sort of suck in on itself out of frustration. Telera leaned over and whispered, “When David is in command mode he thinks he is asleep.” Very nasally, the CIA Stapler Dweeb said “That still doesn’t make sense, because he would at least recognize the change in mental state as all MPS subjects do.” The Dweeb looked back at David, “Where did you sleep last night?” David just looked at the Stapler Dweeb and said “Look I

live in the Pink fortress on Decatur Street, it’s a squat.” The General giggled a little and “I bet those are great accommodations you have but your biochip says you were there at 222 Rampart last

night. Your Chip is not malfunctioning I ran a diagnostic this morning on it.” He pressed a button on the touch pad that had appeared in his hand and David responded, “Bio-Chip is functioning at 100% of capacity.” David shook with anger and fear. Who was this Nathan and how were they going to talk to him. Was he in one of the cells here? Was he another suspect, in what a murder, terrorist action, what the hell was going on here? “What are we doing here people? How do we get rid of David and talk to Nathan, do we snap our fingers and turn about twice? I want to get home… Switch him so we can get on with the questioning.” The generals’ impatience was showing on his sleeve like crusted boogers. “Sir the procedure clearly says that we are supposed to act like there is not a Nathan, David is not supposed to know sir.” The stapler dweeb did have a point.



Om en fyr Certainly I must be asleep, because that bomb did not kill me. Flames licked his B.D.U.'s as he ducked and covered. It was an Ammo Dump, so I might have to keep laying there for a minute. Fortunately, I had the pistol he had stolen from the guard I had to kill to get in to the room. I could feel heat on my back like there was something burning but did not feel pain. So I knew that there was shrapnel hitting me but I could not feel it. My B.D.U.'s had taken a lot of trauma. A not so close shotgun blast bruised the crap out of me cracked some ribs and caused some abrasions, but nothing that had required stitches. I could not hear the screams of the mothers and families in the village either morning over their dead chinks or crying about their wounds. They had captured friendlies and I was ordered to create mayhem and kill until I got them out. If they were dead, which was highly unlikely, I was supposed to leave no one alive. They would be dead, they would be forgotten. I would be alive and I would live to serve on. Just like all the others at the Battle School. They were dead and I was alive; they were gone and forgotten. I could see the building they were holding their prisoners in. I just had to keep these bloody round eye bastards from going inside and killing them until I got there. I also had to watch and make sure they did not see me laying here behind the burning building until I could count how many I had killed already. There

were 42 villagers 26 of them were as akin to gang members as a rattlesnake was akin to a python. They are both snakes. The rest of them old men, women and children, they just might all die and that would not bother me a bit. That is why I do not wear a uniform. My Battle Dress Uniform is midnight blue and at night you can't see me as I sneak up on you and kill you by slitting your throat from ear to ear. Silencing you by cutting the windpipe and giving you an extra mouth, with which to bleed from. This was how I had killed the guard at the ammo dump. Today, I was supposed to kill, maim and destroy until it was safe to walk away with my friends. But I don't have any friends. The other Battle School children were not my friends, I had to remember that. They all hated me, because I was the best. They sure do like me when I fucking blow up the P.O.W. camp they are hidden in. THEY WILL BE ECSTATIC to see me. Fucking Chumps. I was the best of the best out of 2000 specimens, other children. Other children who had been given all my training. Feed the same regimented diet and exercised daily and given all the same psychological tests and rigors. Yes Rigors; the girls had all been rapped dozens of times and forced to be toilets for the "trainers." This was tough but to go out and assassinate and be an efficient killer, the government does not want pussies. They want hard Dicks; hard Dicks and Cunts ready to fuck, murder, poison, stab in the back, torture and create hell on earth. Yep that is my job. I am not James Bond; no C.I.A. agent; I am a God dammed Jack the Ripper with a government stamp of

approval. I am a thing of nightmares. I have been trained to use my latent psychic powers to help me find my prey and kill them without ever touching them, sometimes. I like touching them. I like to kill with my hands. To feel the blood pour over my skin to feel your insides on my fingertips to watch you suffer as you die. You don't want to know a man like me; you don't want to know what I do for fun. But I do have some tricks up my sleeves. When my head stopped ringing so loud I could hear myself speak, I said a few words and the dead groaned and started moving all over the camp. Words that I had learned not through my training, but during my time stranded on some Haitian island. Screams and shots rang out. The fire still burned above me. Those words translated to English would be "rise up and take revenge for your enemy is your friend." So I guess it is self-explanatory what is happening in the village right now. There was more screaming, this time it was screams that sounded like they were trying to cast the devils out of the dead. This trick works best in South American Catholic villages where the belief and fear of Satan is the most. There was just screaming and screaming until finally there were slams of doors and windows and quiet crying and the moans of the dead. I knew where they were. Since the jungle wasn't a place you wanted to be at night, they were not going to run very far. Already someone nearby was watching the heat signatures and I could hear the paralyzing darts which would eventually kill them slowly and painfully, whipping through the air.

From 400 yards this gun could drop an enemy and with the antidote or an inducer you could question or reverse the effects of the poison. I actually had an antidote capsule in case I was shot, but I always knew I'd never get a chance to take it. Someone else would have to give it to me. But at least I had it. The paralytic effects take effect in seconds. I never knew who it was and I never seen them, but they generally showed up at the right time. They provided distant cover fire so that I could complete my task and the mission was not a total fuck up if I died. I always supposed they were retired C.I.A. or one of our handlers. So when it got quiet. I said a few words more and the dead were silent again. I crept around to the building where the villagers were hiding and while I listened to a little girls' prayer for peace and mercy, others begged for deliverance, I made sure that all the doors and windows were latched and not easily opened. Then I took the rest of my demolitions and stuffed them in the head of a chink bastard who'd died with his eyes open and tapped on the window and said "Hãy để tôi vào cõi chết đã mất hết. Let me in the dead are gone." Sure enough they responded, "Họ tất cả đi? Có ma quỷ đã đến và đi? Are they all gone? Has the devil came and went?" and they opened the window just enough. To see the eyes of that Dead Head in my hand. Maybe they saw the way his head was turned or that his eyes lacked the luster of life, but they tried to close the window as I bounced out of the way behind another shanty building.

I swear I could hear their screaming as the fire jumped out of the little hut made of wood and roofed with broad leaves. But then the ringing in my ears made all sound go away again. When the light of dawn hit my hands, they were sticky with blood and dirt. I was lying in some weird position. I had been crying and I had to pee so bad my B.D.U.'s were starting to get wet. I walked over to the building where my friends were being held and shot open the door and there they were lying in the floor trembling and stinking chained to the floor. "No, no, it's alright, Nathan is here, the devil came and went in the night."