A Mercenary's Lament

"You don't know ze zings I've seen, ze zings I've done. And for what? Ze Money? Ze fame? Well, let me tell you somezing, beetch: Ze life of a mercenary eezn't all fun and games. Eet eezn't do a small job and get paid. Eet's going out zere, risking your life, becoming a wanted man. Eet's keeling innocent people for a quick buck. No one knows you, 'ow can zey? You need a low profile to survive. You need to keell to stay alive. Do you know what eet's like, to be wanted? Do you know 'ow 'ard eet eez to get a 'otel room wiz everyone looking for you? Do you know what 'appens eef you get caught? 'Ow do you go from country to country? You can't get a passport. You can't cash a check. You can't exist. To be perfectly safe, you 'ave to be on ze edge. You 'ave to 'ave no one close to you. You 'ave to keell. Ze life of a mercenary eezn't all fun and games. Eet eezn't glory and adventure, as 'Ollywood makes eet out to be. Eet's risking your neck to snap someone else's. You're a 'ore, whezer you want to admit it or not. You do what you're told for money. Zat's a 'ore. Zat's a mercenary. You don't fight for honor, you 'ave none. You're een eet for ze money and ze money alone. Eef you're told to keell your muzzer, you do for ze right price. Once you start, you can never go back. And 'ow do I know all zis? Eet's seemple, really:

...I'm Ze Mole, beetch."


Well, that's something I'd expect Ze Mole to say. I am a writer, and as a writer I like to get under the character's skin, become the character. I am "method actor type writer," meaning I "become" the person I am writing about. That can explain some of my personality changes, non?

Anyways, that really is the life of a mercenary. You do what you're told for the right price. If you get paid in advance, you take the money and run. That's the only way you ever get out of it and still get paid. If you die, oh well. They'll just hire someone else. Every war or battle, and even most arguments, have had some mercenary in them. Politics, both modern and ancient. Mercenaries are the foundation on which all civilization was built, destroyed, and reincarnated. But no one realizes their importance. The only people who really know about them just think they're terrible people and try to kill them or arrest them.

Even knowing all this, though, mercenary work seems so appealing to me.

I've always done some degree of mercenary work, now that I look back on it.

I used to offer to help people get revenge, for the right price. If paid, I would set up traps according to how they wanted it, or give them instructions. I used to help people get out of trouble, or find loopholes in their agreements. Example: Lauren said she'd give me five packs of gum if I helped her get out of a contract that states she couldn't talk on the ground floor of the school. Easy enough; she could whisper, sing, chant, mutter... anything. Not very good contract, huh?

In the UN's rules of war, it states that a mercenary is anyone who participates in an armed disagreement between two sides that does not belong to either side, whose primary reason for joining the side they join is monetary gain. (That is not plagiarized, by the way. It's really in my own words) And I once had two friends who were in an armed disagreement. One paid me to intervene, and I did. I am a mercenary, if only in the technical term of the word.

I am aware of the implications. Once I go into the world of the mercenary, I can never turn back. I'd have a life of paranoia and sin.

My friend asked me, "If Erin paid you to kill Kilyssa, would you do it?" (my friends Erin and Kilyssa are... arguing, to put it mildly) I said, "I am completely neutral in their squabble. However, I will pick a side or intervene... for the right price." She asked, "Okay, so you kill someone, you spend the money. You don't feel bad at all?" But here's the thing that bothers me: I answered, in an even voice, without thought or hesitation, "No."

It makes me think, I've been doing these things before I knew what a mercenary was. Before I even heard the word. When I was six, I was chosing sides for personal gain. I really have been in this world for so long. And I have never gone back. In the barest definition of the word, I am a mercenary. If I were to take the plunge, go deeper, would it be that much worse?

I don't know. All I know is that you really can never go back. I've seen and done things too. Not nearly as many horrible things as Ze Mole, but things nonetheless. And it affects your thinking. In the first few seconds something is proposed to me, I fix every loophole I can find. Within the next six minutes, every loophole is completely gone. I can find at least 50 ways to kill a man undetected with a plastic spoon, never to be caught. I never touch things with my fingertips, and if I do I wipe it off before I leave. I always wear gloves, think before I speak, and never say anything about myself unless it's in my best interests. I'm an exceptional actress, as I've stated in previous blogs. I lie and make people believe I'm telling the simplest truths. I hide very well; I've never once lost a game of hide-and-seek. I'm incredubly mature; so mature, in fact, that I have to be a completely different person around everyone else just so they aren't completely perplexed. I always wear gloves and make SURE that I don't leave any DNA-riddled evidence of where I was. I feel no remorse at the things I do. I am not afraid of blood or death.

Yes, it's true. Even if you quit, even if you find a way out, even if you're qualified as a mercenary by loopholes and small details, you can never ever go back.
Posted on May 12th, 2009 at 11:32pm


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