Terror's Agony

Jack Ridley has fought off his fear by striking it into the heart's of others, but nothing scares him more than the putrid stench of terror that clings to the air like a lifeline whenever he lets his wrath run wild.

The steady burn of his cigarette isn't the only thing that could go up in flames.
A fire has started within him so monstrous that not even the devil on Jack's shoulder can reap what he sows.

How do you fight your fears when the only thing left to fear is yourself?

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19. Prologue-Milo Walker

It's not quite right.

I wish I could wear a bright orange hunters vest over my camouflage, I want them to see my face as my bullet pierces through their head.

I want the credit for their death.

I want the to see the recognition cross their face when I'm the one that caused their pain. I want to see the focus leave their eyes when they drop dead 50 years before they were originally meant to.

I want to be the last thing they see in their pointlessly short life, because they're the reason why I'm like this. They will suffer like I have.

They're the reason why I love this hell so much. I crave the feeling of ecstacy that floods through my mind and gives me the inhuman power to fight through the wounds. To fight through the gunshots that plague my morbidly strong body, just to kill another person, just to feel invincible again.

I'm no hero, I'm not what everybody thinks I am. I stay standing, but it's not to save my fellow troops and it's not to protect my country or its honor. I stay standing to kill the enemies that shouldn't be here, because I'm no soldier, and it's not fair to them.

I'm a killer.

I'm a murderer, and I shouldn't be taking advantage of war for my selfish whims, but what can I say, I'm just not a good person. I've come to terms with that and so should you, because the fact that I'm a disgrace doesn't change the way that I feel about my current code of conduct: Take advantage of what you're given so you can give back to others.

They may not see it, their families won't see it, but I see it.

Dying in battle, dying for your country is the greatest gift I could ever give to my enemies. If they were to live, then their life wouldn't be the same. They would be sentenced to die of natural causes just like everyone else. They would die an unextraordinary death after facing hell on earth, an extraordinarily impossible accomplishment.

They deserve an honorable death, and that's what I'm giving them. I'm giving them their honor, don't take that away from them.

I'm kidding, I'm messing with you. All of that was fucking bullshit. I don't care one bit about who I'm killing, I just like the feeling I get when I do it. End of story.

That's it, the shows over folks. There's nothing inspiring about it, I'm me.

This is who I am. This is how I've been ever since I made my first shot on the battle field and killed a man.

The only difference between me and the next leadfoot with a gun is that I'm smart.

I know how to play my cards, but better yet, I know how to bluff; don't try and test me. I don't even tell the truth in my own head so don't get lost in there just like my do-gooder conscience did, because she was never to be seen again, and I don't want the same to be said for you. I'm not finished with your sacrifice yet. You are not yet honorable, but I'm going to change that.

The mind of a man is easily changed, human nature however is not. That's why you still have those wandering thoughts that shouldn't be there, the morbid ones that your mind tries to block out. All you have to do is let it go, all you have to do is release what's already there and you will be set free.

I will teach you. You will be with me in war and you will see the private interworkings of my evolved mind, so just make sure you keep yours open because there's a lot to learn, or better yet there's a lot to forget.

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