Memoirs of a Mercenary Pt. 4 Back in the Hellhound Den, if I was caught reading anything beyond what was required or touching anything in the library I hadn't been told to get, my punishment was usually long and always painful. Although it's a blow to my pride, I acted like a scared rabbit when Devil found me in his library. I was afraid I'd get beaten again. Strangely enough he acted somewhat nervous too. That was my first glimpse into how screwed up he was. Later, when I went to apologize for my behavior (I have no idea why), he lent me the book he had been fetching; a book that I found out later had been given to him by his mother: Frankenstein. He tried to remove what little evidence of his former identity that had been stored in that book. He missed a page. Although I didn't mention it until years later, I discovered his real name.
If you were thinking that Devil was the name given to him by h
Memoirs of a Mercenary Pt. 3 I guess Robert abides by the rule of keeping your friends close but our enemies even closer because I was promoted to lieutenant following my predecessor's slightly mysterious death. I say slightly because murder is almost a daily occurrence in my world. Accidents happen all the time. A few months following my promotion I think Robert realized his mistake. I started gaining a support that he never expected. I treated my people fairly and wouldn't give orders that I wouldn't be willing to do myself. Robert could feel his empire slipping through his fingers. I was sent to New York, supposedly to oversee some sort of transport. He told me that he had alerted the local commander to our movements. When we got taken in by the Devil's Agents, I found out otherwise.
To be perfectly honest I wasn't exactly in a gracious mood when I met with the Devil. I admit that I took my
Memoirs of a Mercenary Pt. 2 I think I was eleven or so when one of the other mercenaries that shared Robert's hobby started noticing me. Why me when there was so many other victims to choose from I have no idea. Perhaps it was the fact that I was the toy of the pack leader so I must be the best despite or maybe because of my scrawny, half-healed, form. I looked like easy prey to a wolf. He called himself Cooper. If he had a first name I never heard it. His was the first foreign accent I had ever encountered, that of New York, America. What he was doing down under, I didn't know.
Anyway he chose a time when Robert was away on business to catch me. Not that it was hard considering I was always secured somehow. From there he decided to try out a few techniques that he had learned on me. After all, with an already cut up girl, who's going to notice a few more? He
Memoirs of a Mercenary Pt. 1 As the daughter of a whore and an Arabic terrorist, I never really had a choice of what my life was going to be like. Growing up in the dungeon of a criminal organization's base is hardly what I'd call a stellar childhood. The screams of the victims of the sadistical genius that called himself leader is the sound I grew up to. The smell of blood, sweat, and fear was the perfume of my childhood. Sunshine was an abstract concept up until my later teen years.
Having a mother that continually refers to you as a mistake doesn't exactly foster a high self-esteem. My glorious leader bought my mother, or so I was told, from some dealer in South Africa. Turns out that my mother left my father in Turkey and headed to Africa to seek help for her condition. She ended up getting betrayed by the commander of that mercenary guild she went to f