“They’re not the ones fighting here, we should make the profits.”
Nasreen Davar really isn’t a nice woman. I can’t judge, I’ve done some terrible things myself, I’ve killed people, a lot of people. For money. Because I had to. Because I could. She’s saved my life more than once, and I’ve returned the favour; and yeah, maybe I’m a little attracted to her. I’ve been here for fifteen days, already gained quite a reputation, and she’s the only women I’ve met so cut me some slack, yeah?
This place changes you, Africa. It’s beautiful, it’s deadly. It doesn’t want me here and takes pains to let me know that every chance it gets. I’ve barely met a dozen people who didn’t want to kill me for one reason or another. I’m fine with that, survival of the fittest, law of the jungle. I’m better than most of them, I must be I’m still breathing.
The same can’t be said for Frank Bilders, lying in the gutter somewhere with half his head missing. My doing. Desert Eagle at point blank range. He’s asked for it, literally. I’d fucked up and got him shot, I could have saved him but I’d taken that last dose of morphine for myself. I hadn’t needed it, I could have kept going, I’d put my needs above his and he suffered for it. Sure neither of us are saints but he was a funny guy, and he had my back when I needed it. In the end all I could do for him was make it quick, he’d earn that much.
I went it bit mad after that, carved up some guy with a machete because he’d been foolish enough to be looking the wrong way. Was that revenge for Frank or just something to sate my own growing blood lust? I need to get out of this country, back to Israel, back to some semblance of civilisation. Do I even know what such a thing is any more? He’s right, The Jackal, war isn’t noble, life isn’t noble. It’s solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. That guy Hobbes knew what he was talking about, this place is bellum omnium contra omnes writ large.
So maybe The Jackal is onto something, doesn’t mean I’m not going to put a bullet in his head, doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy it. I might have screwed up the first time, and second chances generally aren’t forthcoming, but somebody clearly wants him dead; they hired me for a reason, and I don’t come cheap. So yeah I’ll find him and I’ll kill him. I’m getting out of here, if it means I become a vicious bastard then I’ll do it. I don’t intend to end up like Frank.
I’m going home, whatever the cost, and fuck anybody who gets in my way. I mean what do I owe them?