Confutatis Maledictis

Issue 10

Frank kept to himself a lot except when there were women involved. It was his weakness, he was a sucker for a beautiful woman and it didn't use to always be like that. He used to be entirely indifferent to the idea of the beauty of the female form. He was impervious to their wily flirtations, the shape of their bodies and their promise of sexual satisfaction.

"Women are a waste of my God damn time. I can't shoot anything with a woman...give me a gun any day of the week," said Frank to his elderly land lady when asked if he was ever thinking of settling down, to which she sighed, shrugged and walked away muttering to herself something about young people being stupid. No, there was a time when Frank preferred to stroke his gun alone than stroke a woman.

Now he was a sex machine and he was always turned on. He couldn't believe what he had been missing. That was until quite recently. The taste of a fresh woman's lips, the smell of her perfume, her writhing body under the sheets, the delicate movement of her hair; none of it seemed to matter. He had lost his appetite for sex, he had lost his lust for lust.

Instead, here he was walking around in the middle of the day for no reason, just walking under the merciless sun with no hopes or expectations. He had the information somewhere deep in his mind, the information that he was a man who would eventually be on a list and his life would be ended. All he could do now was wait and he knew it.

"If only there was a way to ditch this God forsaken shit-show of a city. Get a fresh start in a place where people I wouldn't just disappear one day. I mean how am I supposed to start a family knowing that one day something will come and steal us away from life? God damn irresponsible to do anything of the sort." Thought Frank on his little walk, oblivious to everything else.

The truth is that Frank was and always had been a lover, despite the fact that his knowledge of weaponry was deeper than everyone in Spero. He had always taken an interest in the devices that took life even though it was a contradiction to his character. He believed that the work he did was protecting the people. He believed that the weapons and equipment that he designed would be used for good, they would not be used to inflict harm on innocent people, they would not be used to threaten the country he loved.

The country had raised him. The country had taken him in when he had nothing and gave him a home, a weapon, an identity, a purpose. Eventually the country gave him something else that he had never had before, it gave him friends. Until then he was just a boy who trained, learnt and remembered things.

Welcome to Francis' Mind

It's 5am, time for the morning run. 10Km in the morning then meditation, then breakfast. Then books, time for me to hit the books, weapons, weapons and weapons. How to build them, how to destroy them, their strengths, their weaknesses. A weapon has no weaknesses, the weakness is in the person using the weapon, not understanding a weapon, not understanding the purpose of the weapon, being mismatched with a weapon, neglecting maintenance. Don't bring a blade to a gunfight. If you work well with blades then there is no reason why that statement should be true for you.

There is a perfect weapon for everyone, kind of like a soul mate, except you are unlikely to ever divorce your weapon, you are unlikely to ever have an argument with your weapon and you are unlikely to ever talk bad about it behind it's back. I like the studying part, but I understand the need for the physical training as well. It never was my forte.

Stretch well before the run, get the blood pumping and try not to be the last one to make it back. The competition is fierce, the small, brown guy runs like a demon on steroids with a flame up his ass. He does everything well and I've heard that he is much younger than I am, I know that I will never really know how old he is. Stupid rules. Would be good to get to know a bunch of these people. God damn, why do we have to wear these masks for running? Couldn't they give us something a little bit more breathable? I guess we shouldn't get attached to the people who are likely to be touched by death.