I live in a realm where car bombs and 9mm pistols are the norm. At night when you go to sleep, I stay awake and mingle with thieves, killers and terrorists. The world that you only see in dreams and nightmares is what I walk tall in.
You window shop to spend time with your friends on a balmy Saturday afternoon. I use windows at shops to pick up tails and to check my six. You use paintballs to play games. I use hollow points to end wars. You exercise to look good on South Beach. I exercise because it’s the difference between life and death. You watch CNN for headlines on world events. I’m the reason CNN is still in existence. Your job description is to sit at a desk and push papers. My job description is to be non-descript. Your reality, a reality of Starbucks double Macchiatos, 50” plasma-LED televisions and passive political debates, is courtesy of the efforts of myself and other colleagues. My reality, a reality of C-4 detonations, pock marked chest scars and Brazilian Jui-Jitsu, is fraught with a maze of deception, disrepute, danger.
Politicians needs me but are apt to forget I exist whenever the opportune moments reveal themselves. In a world of civility and scraps of paper littered with unalienable rights, it is best that Presidents and aspiring politicians keep their distance and adhere to their preferred arms length distance saying of plausible deniability.
You belittle me by describing me as a spy. You sugar coat what I am by calling me a covert operative. You down play my integral role in the safety of your reality by labeling me an intelligence officer. You whisper of my existence in small circles as if your hushed tones keep me at bay.
I pierce the world with steel grey eyes, taking in everything, cataloguing it, making sure you sleep well tonight. My outlook on the world is grim. Too little time, too many people to kill. The difference between the United States and everyone else is not the Declaration of Independence or our insatiable desire to consume special sauced Big Macs. I am the difference. The enemy knows I exist but they don’t know when I will come. They don’t know what I look like. They only know that because I exist, they have one foot in the grave. They cannot escape my wrath. They cannot stop the Tolling Bell.
I am a mercenary.
I am death.
I am an assassin.
I am vengeance.
I am the epitome of America’s first response against terrorism.
I am Hell, but just a bit warmer.
I am Nathanial Reaper.
