Part 2.0: Investigation

Part 2.0

[Recording initiated

Date: 3 June, 2078]

I needed to take a minute to get a few things ready.

Sorry for the wait.

Before I continue, I have to tell you a few things.

These were thoughts I had while Nero’s goons put the boots to me.

The first was something I was taught in the Membership.

‘When being interrogated, stay in your most normal memories’

Strange, right?

Why focus on normal memories and not happy memories?

The answer is simple.

Pain corrupts happiness, and normality dulls pain.

My thoughts took me back to my father.

He is a good man.

He is a hard man.

He is a kind man.

These ideas aren’t mutually exclusive, but they are very rare in the same person.

He was one of the best reconnaissance operators the CCCB had ever seen.

Tracking, stealth, assassination and exfiltration were just another day in the life of the madman.

That was until my mother decided that his newborn son wasn't worth the trouble.

She left me with a friend and said she needed a minute to compose herself, and never came back.

My father, after hearing the news, came back and became an instructor to raise me.

He became an instructor to train the next batch of fearless killers to die in the Madagascan war.

Normally, you wouldn’t be wrong to assume a man like that would take out his frustrations on his son.

My father, on the other hand, liked to prove that he didn’t fall into any specific mould.

He never raised his voice or his hands unless I deserved it.

As I grew up, I preferred keeping my nose in books as I learned everything from math to biology.

Yes, I was a nerd and still am.

My learning seemed to make him happy as he told me to follow my passions to a lab or an ER.

If it weren’t for the assholes I shared classes with, that is where I would end up.

Those bastards would fixate on the one insecurity I had.

My mother abandoned us, and they made sure that I didn’t forget.

When puberty hit, so did I.

Almost daily fights caused my father a lot of grief.

The man took me aside one day.

I prepared myself for a swing, but he just sat me down and gave me a choice.

Let them torment me or destroy them.

I took the second option, and my old man didn’t disappoint.

He started drilling me after school in actual combat, information gathering and how to bait them into swinging first.

Here is an example.

A kid called me a momma’s boy, and I just laughed at him.

With a confused look, he asked me what was so funny.

My father hacked into his computer and found a very sexual conversation he had with his cousin.

I walked close and told him I knew.

He went as pale as a ghost.

I took a deep breath, and just as I wanted to scream the truth, he lunged.

With a smile, I broke his jaw and dislocated his shoulder.

With the evidence on my side, I walked away scot-free, and my dad gave me my first beer.

My father had a saying.

“They can only fuck you if you let them.”

What he lacked in elevated vocabulary, he made up for in resourcefulness and an absolute lack of mercy for anyone who wronged him.

After the bullies left me alone, I asked him what I should do after they went after other targets.

His words were simple, but felt heavy.

“What would you want someone to do?”

With the help of my father, I went after every single one of them.

Here is the fun part.

Not a single punch was thrown.

I would look for any dirt on their families.

After a short private conversation, the bullying stopped.

The teachers never knew why these problem students became little angels.

It was because they had a guardian devil to keep these shitstains in line.

School was fun, but as it ended, I had a choice to make.

Do I go after academics, or do I pursue a life in the military?

My father wanted me to become a doctor.

He even had the brochures ready and everything.

My time as the school puppetmaster gave me a taste for action.

It was a taste I wanted a lot more of.

I decided to make a compromise with my father.

I would become a medic in the army.

He wasn’t happy.

The Americanas Alliance expected recon operators and medics from the CCCB.

In his words, there was a very good chance I would die.

With a single ‘good-bye’, I walked out of the house.

I didn’t know at the time I would never see him again.

My contract with the medics was supposed to be two years, and with my salary I would be able to go to medical school.

After my first year, the army was very impressed with my performance.

Apparently, my ability to stay calm under fire while treating and defending the soldiers in my unit was unusual.

I was then ordered to be the medic in a recon unit and then promoted to full recon just after that.

For lack of a better analogy, I was living my father’s life.

I spent all my time behind enemy lines.

That was until a few weeks before my contract was supposed to end.

Men in suits, with very expensive tech, called me over.

I met with the colonel in charge of my regiment.

He ordered me to listen to their offer and left.

I was given an overview of the upgrades I would receive.

They told me about everything I did in combat and school.

They called me qualified, and they called me special.

I accepted their offer on the spot like a bloodthirsty fool.

I should have listened to my father and become a doctor.

That way, I could have still been there.

God, I’m an idiot.

Here is the second thing, before I forget.

When I walked to Nero’s office, I decided to make this recording.

I wanted to mention it so you aren’t surprised by recordings of conversations with Milton and the others.

I added some notes to set the scene.

I hope you enjoy their voices.