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2 weeks without a mission. 2 weeks to turn around and relive the week with Ivana. I need action, to get out of here. I can blame the experimental TIK for being responsible for my behavior during the ‘Virgo’ mission, but I also know that such actions are my specialty. ‘Do not give my opponents a chance and erase all trace of my existence’, that’s my motto. I have done similar things many times before in conflict zones.

MissionCard

But shit! This time, I thought I had control. I felt so ‘aggressively determined’ after the TIK and yet so ‘quietly alone in my thoughts’ that the blood I shed seemed an acceptable way to act. Looking back, it surprised me that I didn’t choose to scuttle the mission, rather than taking the risk of disappointing her. Ivana seemed more important in Grozny. Even now, she disturbs me, more than the thought of killing people.

I thought I was more sturdy, mentally speaking. I was wrong. The cocktail of ‘words of a medium’, Ivana’s smile and the ‘methods of mercenaries’ was stronger than I imagined. I still have a bad feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t helpful to cross twisted situations such as these, in the event that I would foolishly succumb to them. I must change the way I think. I did what I am paid for. I obeyed orders and achieved my goal. Even now, I don’t believe the crap I am writing. I hate myself for feeling no guilt after killing. Maybe I am a monster without a soul?

As I Prepared my report, I added that it was in self defense and that Virgo’s men threatened me. However, this was a lie and I didn’t write a word about the girl. I basically lied to cover my tracks, even though I knew that under extreme interrogation I would reveal my deception. But nobody approached me about the mess. I don’t understand why not. Damn, I killed four people needlessly and nobody has said a thing! Something was not right. I must change the way I think. I’ll start looking for sex on the Internet, this commits me to nothing, and that, I know how to do.

You’d think people working for a secret society such as ‘The Organization’ would be very serious and professional, when in fact they spend most of their time gossiping. After crossing eyes with my colleagues, I knew they were all aware of my ‘fiasco’. Their expressions said it all, half amused, half-compassionate. For the mercenaries that had known me for a long time, half where disgusted and the other half were scared. Something however, none of them portrayed in words. All here knew of the events … or some part of them at least. I suspect some telepaths have discreetly searched my mind to find details … So, just in case, I’ve tried to clear my mind. The Senior officers didn’t talk to me anymore about the Virgo situation. I don’t know the official version that was presented. From my side I will not discuss the subject unless I am asked directly. Yet, I think I would have to lie if questioned… Again.

I have known Falconi, our group leader for many years. As well as John Younes and Al Primero. We have watched over each other long before we were hired by the Organization. Years of conflict in various parts of the world have irrevocably welded us. How many times have we had the opportunity to save each others skins! What I appreciate above all is that not one of us keeps count. None of us would think to enforce such debt on any of the others. True friends and true pros are aware of their choices. That is what we are. And in this world of mercenaries, being able to get in trouble without having the fear of being stabbed in the back is a luxury. Most mercenaries speak of honor and loyalty, but its simpler to ask what they would never do for you. Stovosky, Mister E and Ariel, the feminine touch to our group, were later assigned to the Alpha Team. Their average age is between 25-30 years while we, the ‘old’ mercenaries, are between 40 and 50 years old. Time moves quickly! Retirement is near!

On our arrival at Moscow airport, a blue Russian sky welcomed us. The blue that we only see in cold weather. We had enough time to study the morphology of the building to be secured. All this, for a secret meeting between a person of the Organization and a local political leader. This is not the first time we have served as a nanny, protecting members of the Organization from prying eyes, it is routine. People imagine governments are very independent in their choices, when in fact the actions of secret societies and the interests of large financial and industrial groups far outweigh their political might. This holds true, whoever the people, whatever the country.

On my way into the ‘zone’, I saw demonstrators. A common sight in many places, but quite unusual here. People seemed to ask for more individual freedom than we foreigners, yet we drive freely throughout their country. I think the economic crisis has triggered social conflicts everywhere. I wonder if anyone, even a government can stem the crisis. After all, I think we’re all the same. We let the situation deteriorate without doing anything to stop it, then we complain of inherent discomfort and seek officials to blame. It is so easy to spend time looking for those responsible and avoid focusing on solutions. Note, if my various ‘actions’ have taught me one thing, there is more money to be earned by creating problems and then offering solutions than preventing problems in the first place. Chaos and stupidity generate more profits in the short term than intelligence does.

We arrive at the job we are here to do! I ask myself why we came here. I just spoke to the woman we were supposed to chaperone. A beautiful brunette very distinguished, but not really the type to speak to mercenaries. In addition, she had four men-in-black or rather, two men and two women, dressed for the occasion. They wore black suits and dark glasses obscuring their faces. Real machines, without expression who asked us not to get too close to the ‘lady’.

‘What are we doing here?’ Falconi whispered in my ear. ‘Is the organization trying to replace us with other ‘more disciplined’ men?’. He always had a tendency to see the negative in everything. However, I must say, that on many occasions, this has often been justified. Once again, I do not know what to think, but again, I don’t care.

When the ‘lady’ of the organization left the scene to rush into her armored car, demonstrators were already being chased by the police. Nothing seemed to change the fact that, whatever conflict or crisis, poor people are always the first victims. What really gets on my nerves, is that we are all responsible for the state of the society in which we live. Panopeus, I curse the manipulator you are. I felt better before I became aware of these problems. Right now… shit, I think I’d prefer to be far from everything. I want to go home. My love of loneliness causes me less problems. I look once more at the people, the victims, I can do nothing to help them!

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