Tales of a Hyper-sexual Spy
The desert in spring time….by day the sun blazes, flies crawl over every surface and left untreated the skin of a white man will burn. At night it freezes, by the river the frosts shimmer on the crop fields and the frogs hunt tiny insects. Away from the river…a ways out into the barren sands I hunt a larger prey. A scorpion scurries towards me, stinger raised brandishing its deadly venom…I stab it with my bayonet. Foolish bug. Nothing will live that disturbs my hunt. I toss it far into the sand and wipe my blade.
I hunt for men. The foulest man creatures who have ever crossed my path.
They slaughtered the children, they committed the abomination and they had laughed when they had done so. They had laughed long and hard, as the blood ran through our fingers…and zips closed on the little body bags. They had mocked our power…then like cowards they had fled into the shadow, certain they could not be followed.
They have made a mistake… they will not escape. For I am the hunter, and there is ice in my soul and fire on my breath. I am fury…I am death.
That night, the night of the slaughter, after the horror, that fury had raged in my soul. It had raged so hot that my body shook and I could not sleep. By morning the fire had gone out. It could not be sustained. My soul was detached from my body, encased in ice, an observer only. There was no emotion left. None whatsoever. Now only the hunt remains.
It is all I live for. The focus of my being. Nothing matters now, but the hunt, it is not even hate. It is destiny, it is fate.
I have been hunting for six weeks. I have picked up the trail of the enemy. I have tracked them to a remote compound far out in the sands. They will not escape. For here in this patch of desert, I am the Alpha and the Omega… I am fury, I am death.
“I have them. Over.” The message is simple. The officer knows who I have hunted. I give him the grid. An observer must confirm.
“Are they armed? Over.”
“To the teeth, over.”
“Civilians?” he asks.
“In your opinion, should we send infantry? Over.”
“I’ve called an Apache. Over.”
The Apache Gunship…the titan…the Dragon of the skies. The enemy fear it above all else. They call it a mosquito. For it is small, it buzzes and stings. They call it a mosquito to lessen their fear. What they call it is a lie. It is a Dragon, they know it and it breathes Hellfire.
“You don’t have that authority,” he says to me.
“I told them you were temporarily unavailable. They’ve taken off. You’ll look stupid if you send them back.”
“You’re an arrogant shit. Observer call sign. Can you confirm? Over.”
Another voice comes onto the net.
“I confirm Sir, about a dozen Terry’s. They are armed, there are no civilians present. Over.”
“Sir,” I say in a voice as cold as ice, “give me the Apache. Over.”
If he says no, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear and kill them anyway. They will not escape. I am become viscous, I am become vengeance. I am fury…I am death.
“You weren’t the only one who was there. You have my permission. But remember, shit rolls downhill. This is on your head. Out.”
Using my binos I look down on the enemy compound from the rocky hill more than a mile away. They have no idea yet of what is coming for them. Two relaxed Taliban stand guard by a fire, it shines bright in the night. I have no pity in my heart, no mercy. I am become wrath and ruin. I am fury…I am death.
“This is Death from Above, your friendly neighbourhood Apache.” The voice of an American from the deep south blares over the set. He doesn’t give a shit about protocol.
“Good,” I think, “it wastes time.”
“I hear you got an itsy bitsy problem with Terry Taliban. My wings are yours good buddy…just tell me where they are and what you need.”
I give him the grid.
“I am supposed to ask a question about civilians, but in my experience you’ve already checked.”
“Roger that, Death from Above. On my command, unleash a Hellfire Missile.”
“The Hellfire? Geez…you must be pissed at these guys. The Hellfire it is. Target locked awaiting your command.”
I pick up my binos and look one last time at the compound. I am become the Dragon now. The enemy have heard the my engine. They laugh no more. They fear me now. Some cower on their knees, some run. It is futile. They cannot escape. The Hellfire will annihilate them. It will clap louder than the thunder, and for miles the Earth itself will tremble and shake. They have no chance. They are all going to die…
These men have become nothing. Their lives belong to me. I am become a god, I am become the Dragon…there is ice in my soul and fire in my breath. I am fury…I am death.
Check out my pages.