I sat in my office reading a document I had been sent. Apparently, the government had plans to gather colonize other small states and they needed my help as the army would not move without my order. The document I was reading was a petition from them.
I threw the paper in the trash can near my desk and leaned back against the armchair. I looked around my office; the neat, polished floor, the oak wood desk and a view of the lake some ways away from my mansion.
I remembered what it took to get me here. I was born in this small backwashed country. Back then, the country had little to no resources and was trying to mobilize the little it had in preparation for war that would be happening soon.
That was the situation I was born into. I lived with my parents in poverty until I was 3. We were very poor. I mean the whole country was poor but one could say that we were at the bottom of the food chain... or is it poverty chain?
I knew the situation my family was going through so I never complained no matter what happened. Whether we were bullied by the so called aristocrats in society, was sick or starving. I was just content to live with my parents.
However, it seems that those bastards didn't have the same sentiments as me. The first chance they got, they sold me to a slave trader passing through the town.
After a series of sales of which I was the commodity up for grabs, I ended up in the hands of a man who intended to turn a 5 year old boy into a mercenary.
I was trained with others on a small island where I was assured everyday that no one knew where I was nor cared.
I didn't mind. I pushed myself everyday to learn everything they could teach me. My rage and anger for the betrayal I suffered at the hands of my parents acted as a fuel source.
I eventually became the best student in my 'school'. I spent 10 years on that place learning the crafts of what was to be my profession.
I graduated and left that hell hole in ashes having killed both the students and the instructors on my way out.
I returned to my run down country, searched for my parents and murdered them in cold blood. Having completed my life long goal. I was stumped as to what to do next.
By that time the war had began in earnest. So I joined the military. The skills I had trained for 10 good years served me well during my time in the military.
I was promoted through the ranks rather quickly and became a commander, probably the youngest in the states history.
Through our efforts, we won the war and peace returned to the state. At the end of it all I had earned the respect and admiration of the soldiers. Even though I had retired, they still asked me for advice and listened to me before anyone else, including the government.
I closed my eyes, intending to sleep. With age comes the need to sleep more often. Just as I was drifting off I heard a creak on the floorboards just beyond me door.
And I woke up immediately, years of training causing me to snap to attention in an instant. There wasn't supposed to be anyone apart from me in the house today.
I gave all my workers a day off every 1st Saturday of a month. I reached under the desk for my gun. Just as I grabbed hold of it a shot was fired and it nicked my in the shoulder.
Heat , hot and searing lanced through me. I grunted in pain and exaggerated a fall to make it look like the attack hit.
Whoever it was that had just tried to kill me was a novice at best. A true professional would not have missed. I waited on the floor, unmoving,for my opportunity to strike back.
I didn't have to wait for long as the bastard entered my study after a minute or two of silence, most likely presuming that I was dead.
The moment I had a clear shot, I targeting his legs. He fell with a roar of pain and I stood up and walked nonchalantly to where my would be assassin lay clutching his injured knee.
Shouting cuss words along the way. His voice sounded familiar but I decided not to think about it. After all i knew a lot of people who would want me dead.
It would seem that my killer had decided to wear a mask. I scoffed and pulled it off. To be honest, I never expected this man to try and kill me.
He was a man I raised as my own son. I took him in as a child. He had been abandoned and left to die. I even trained him to take my place in the military after I retired and he was currently the commander. I stared at John McConner coldly.
I kept my face smooth and free of emotions as I placed a little device in Johns collar knowing full well that he would not notice because he was currently blinded by pain.
I shot his other leg because it made me feel better about the situation and moved to fetch myself a drink from the corner of the room, ignoring the roar of my adopted son from having his two legs crippled.
I took the first sip and sighed in satisfaction. Nothing beats good alcohol just after brutally shooting your sons legs in.
I turned to look at John just in time for me to see him pointing a gun at me. My eyes widened in surprise as John pulled the trigger and shot 3 me times right in the chest.
I stared down at the blood staining the front of my white shirt and looked at John. I smirked and raised my glass to him.
"Nice shot kid. "
He smiled through the tears. "I was trained by the best. "
I shook my head in amusement. "Time for the million dollar question boy. Why did you do it?"
Johns smile disappeared. "Why, did you just asked me why I just tied to kill you. Well let's see, you are supposed to be retired and the military under my command and yet you still have it in the palm of your hands. I give an order and people feel reluctant to obey. Everyone compares me to you- I make a decision and my lieutenants talk back to me telling me that you would do it this way or that. It's driving me insane. I went to the government for help knowing full well that they hated your guts and they helped my plan for your death. Now with you gone, full control of the military will be transferred to me. "
At this point he started laughing maniacally. Okay, to be honest I wasn't sure if it was a maniacal laugh but the blood loss was starting to me make my vision dark. I knew that the bullets had hit something important and even if I called for help it wouldn't arrive in time.
"Well son, you can only claim power if you're alive after my death. "
John paled. "What do you m-"
I didn't wait for him to finish talking before I pressed the detonator for the tiny device(bomb) I stuck onto Johns collar earlier. His head turned into a mess of flesh, bones and blood.
I refilled my glass and stumbled to my armchair. As I sipped the last of my whiskey I couldn't help think that karma truly was a bitch. I killed my parents and now I'm dying at the hands of my own kid.
My strength left me and I succumbed to the darkness of death.