Black. White. Red: First Blood, the Squeakquel

The very thing that I desired. The thing that woke me up in the morning. The thing that gave color to my world.

That would be my undoing.

I couldn’t believe it. One moment you’re striving towards this mountaintop and then, once you reach it. Once you reach the summit, you look around and just like that… no one.

You’re completely alone.

And you want to know the real bitch of it all? It’s all YOUR fault. Here you are thinking you’re on top of the world all the while EVERYONE who helped you get there falls by the wayside.

Just… Just where did I go wrong?

Sure. There were times when things got a little less than ethical. But in order to win this game, you need to be able to let go of that little voice that nags when you have to do something to survive. You have to be able to drown that voice if need be.

Especially in the end game.

That’s the most crucial part. That’s what makes the blood worth it.

I don’t LIKE doing these things.

No.

 That’s the difference between someone who is an amateur and a professional. Do you REALLY think I like doing these things? It tortures me at night. God. I can’t even sleep without seeing the blood behind my eyes. BUT I need to do it. It has to be done.

If I don’t do it, then they will. It’s an inevitability. Just like that guy said. Malcolm Gladwell. All this shit just adds up and up until it reaches critical mass.

And then.

Red.

Blood.

Everywhere.

And then.

Victory.

And then.

Loneliness.

I didn’t always do what it took. I knew what it took. I just couldn’t DO it. Not until I was pushed.

It was um… February 5^th 2018. That’s when I stopped holding back. I had just gotten out of the shop when my best friend, Rookie, told me about someone who had made it to the other side. Not just that. They came back. And when they came back they were the epitome of opulence. Golden dangly things bright enough to make you think you were staring straight into the sun.

I’ve been poor my entire life. My childhood consisted of four walls, one roof, one floor, one window, and a kitchen.

All dirt.

The rents, bless them, never did too well for themselves and for some reason decided to bring someone else into the mix.

So allow me to correct myself. I’ve been dirt poor my entire life.

Now, this friend is telling me of some guy just like me made it over THERE and now all of THIS.

Rookie is a lot of things. A lanky, towering dolt of a guy. He’s a thief when he needs to be among a litany of other petty shit he does. But he DOES. NOT. LIE. He figured out way long ago that he’s not smart enough to do it convincingly. He’s like the most honest criminal I know.

So when this lanky goof comes up to me looking down and saying someone made it.

I have to believe him. Again an idiot.

I love him, but he’s an honest idiot.

So I pry. I ask him for more information.

And the most remarkable thing about this guy is how completely unremarkable he was.

I mean, he could’ve been my twin for all you knew. I wouldn’t go as far as to call myself short so let’s just say I’m a respectable height. I got something of a round head. When I was in elementary school the REALLY big kids, 10 year old behemoths, used to grab my head and pretend it was a bowling ball. Used to call me Bowling Ball Head. How creative.

Ok, so I have a round head. Big deal.

Anyway, this guy was just like me. So if he could do it, why can’t I?

Why can’t I?

Can’t I?

Fuck,

I think I can.

I knew the spot we had to go from, but from there I could only go with a few people.

In my entire life, I only heard of this patchy warzone. While poor, I never had to fight, thankfully. I never had a reason.

My country has been at war with these sick sons of bitches for as far as anyone can remember.

It’s just the way things are. And I was content living like that, day in and day out.

But imagining myself with those dangly gold things. And thinking of how euphoric it’d be to COME BACK. Everyone would love me.

It’s like when you hear something for the first time that rocks you to your core. Everything before becomes meaningless. And as soon as I heard it I knew what I had to do.

 I will come back.

I will come back.

Before that day, my country’s war was just a sideshow to laugh at. A game. I never wanted to get my hands bloody.

And let the record show… I still don’t.

But golden dangly thingies.

Rookie and I show up to the field dressed to the nines. Dressed for war. I’m what you could call an introvert. I never really got to know anyone from back home besides ol’ dummy, so Rookie brought it upon himself to bring some of his friends. He brought Kay, truly a horse of a man. I heard he could leap over people. Definitely wouldn’t want to mess with him.

Then there was Conehead, I don’t actually know his name. But he has a pointy head and if I’ve learned anything from elementary school, head related nicknames are fair game.

Somehow Rookie managed to convince the guy who MADE IT back on the field. But I think he was all over himself because he got to stand next to General Ki Ng. Next to our squad was some ragtag group of guys who thought they could be us. Get real.

“Connor… what are you doing?”

“Um, nothing. I’m just playing Chess.”

“By yourself?” A furl formed at Kennedy’s brow.

“Yeah… you can do that. I read that if you play by yourself you can like –“

“That’s weird. Anyway, Mom said to take out the trash. Think you can manage that, Bowling Ball Head?”

“Kennedy, I told you to stop calling me that. And sure. Next time just pleeeease knock… please.”

“Whatever.”

Ok guys, sorry to leave you mid-game. But I gotta go.

‘click’

Eeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr.