| thank yall, had to get that out.
and now (wether you want it or not) here it comes... Chapter two
Have I really become the human, if you can call them that, that my trainers were. I knew going in that this would not be the life of James Bond, bit in some way I hoped it would be. Reality is scary.
Those that taught me how to kill came in two flavors. One the animal that enjoys killing and kills often. Two the tired man that acted as if each time they killed, what is the saying, a piece of their own soul died? that would be an apt description of some empty shells that used to hold life, daily function and subsistence where their was once creativity and vitality. Neither option was some one I wished to emulate.
If I had to choose what would it be? Or have I already chosen? Did my experiences put me in some different class? Objectively I am angry, hurt, lust for revenge, but I wish that their destruction could be delivered by some other engine of death and chaos. I don’t want to kill, but for the pain they have caused they deserve death. So I do want to kill! I can claim that I am justified in my actions. One could argue that the Nazis believed their cause was just! Would the average soldier on the field of battle really want to kill every Jew he saw? Was he a pawn? Was I? Am I? Or have I become a passed pawn who has broken thorough the enemy defenses, surveys the board and can choose his own fate? If I really have this power do I want to become the almighty queen who then dictates the game... the game of life? I could stay the course, not knowing, not caring where I go. But that in its self also changes the game. By not doing what may be possible I have given the enemy power by way of omission.
I think all of this is too much to consider right now. I must still be in shock. I understand how she died, I can even understand why she died. I may hate it, morn her, and try to put the pieces in some semblance of order; but for the life of me, and hers, I do not understand why Pierce did this to me.
Perhaps I am even more distraught that I could not forecast my own demise, if anything I hastened it.
Did Pierce understand what he was doing to me? He had to realize it was a possibility. It seemed, appeared that he cared not only for my health and well being but for me. Not a tool but as a friend. Pierce must have convinced himself that others would see and understand his psychopathic dream then fight for it to become a reality.
I can remember on conversation, early in out relationship when I had jokingly called him a maniac. Pierce suddenly turned serious and told me Don’t you see that is the point. All of the greatest men in history could be accurately described as maniacs Stalin, a single human, irreconcilably altered the entire world! Yet he was a maniac. Would a sane man try two-thousand filament in an effort to create a light bulb, or is that mania? And for a blind man to write symphonies is that not mania? Genius is nothing without the urge, drive, the mania to see it through With that impromptu lecture one would have believed that maybe some alarm bells would have been set off.
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