It was 3:13 on the digital clock that sat on the night table when Mark woke with a gasp. Looking around, Mark saw that he was in his small bedroom, in his small condominium. As he let his eyes drift down, he saw the beautiful figure of… Well, he couldn’t remember her name, but she was a young blonde, tall, and had a figure that would make a Playboy bunny envious. Yet, even though the sex was great last night, Mark sighed at her sight and lay back down. Every weekend for the past few months, Mark would go through the same routine. Go to the party, meet the chick, and bring her home… It was like living life in the fast lane. But, only his sexual desires were fulfilled. Inside, his heart still yearned for Roxy… They were together such a short time, but the months that followed their wedding were pure bliss. Never had Mark spent countless hours just holding a woman tight in his arms, sitting on his balcony, gazing up at the stars… Mark could have sworn their was magic in her chocolate eyes, magic that he could stare at for the rest of his life…

Then they came into his house. They bound him to his own fucking chair. They took Roxie and beat her… They shot her. It only took one shot to the windpipe to cut off her air circulation. The waterfall of blood that poured out of her throat was only made worst by the gurgling noise coming from deep within as the foaming blood cut off any oxygen Roxy might have been able to take in. Mark struggled with his restraints, only stopping when his wrists were openly bleeding and the rope that bound him struck bone. He called out every curse he knew at the masked bastards, who still had not said a word, and in every language he knew them in. He cursed the damned bastards till his throat ran dry, and it was only at that time that the men ignited the fuel they had been spreading. They left the room, laughing, and as the others walked out, one of the men turned around and said, “ That’s what you fucking get for fucking my wife and killing my goddamn father, you mother fucking piece of shit.” With that, Mark was left alone, only semi-conscious, slowly dying from the smoke… Mark knew he would have died that day if it weren’t for the quick action of his neighbors calling the fire department… Even as Mark was lying in that bed, next to the blonde, he could still see the wretched face of his wife as she was shot, and as her body burned… It was a sight that forever burned in his mind and soul. It was after that incident that Mark quit the service, knowing it was his passion for work that killed his passion for life.

Mark knew why he quit. He also knew why he went fucking every girl in the city. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else, however. The simple reason was the control Mark strove for. Something inside him changed the day he had to sit by and see his wives beautiful body demented. He knew that he had to have control in every aspect of his life from now on. Never again would the events around him e out of his hands. He would play God in his own life and no one else could change how the events played out around him. Which is also why Marl lead his life without any sort of religion or higher being. Mark made his own rules and led his own life. It was all about control.

It was that reason that Mark almost turned down a mission two years after he vowed never to return to the service. When Agent Huit contacted him, Mark hung up the phone without even listening to what the man had to say. He should have respected Mark’s wishes and never contacted him again. Yet, after multiple phone calls Mark discovered he was being requested by the president for a minor protection job. The idea seemed elementary to Mark, considering he had served all over the world. After all, how many attempts were made on the presidents life while we was sitting in the safety of the White House, with dozens and dozens of security officers on hand, ready to strike at any threat that occurred. Mark never would have selected the mission if it weren’t that the entire staff had come down with an unknown illness that forced them all into sickbeds. It was the mystery and curiosity that forced Mark to arise from the bed that day for his daily run, adding an additional 5 miles to his daily run. After all, he wanted to be prepared for the next days mission as fully as possible. After returning home and seeing the blonde still in his bed, he awoke her with a hard kiss on the lips, looking into her sharp green eyes as they fluttered open. Taking her by the hand, he lead her into the bathroom, taking off the sweats he wore for his run, and started the shower. After the water was warm, Mark broke off the kiss that the two were deeply sharing, and lead her toward the warm water. The scene was steamy, with the water bouncing off the bodies of the two lovers, moving in rhythm set to the sound of the music of the body. An hour later, Rick left the house again, fully dressed, and with the knowledge that he would never see the beautiful blonde again… Hell, he didn’t even know her name… Now his mind was only on the mission he had tomorrow and better preparing for what would happen this time. Never again would he allow a terrorist bastard to kill him.

Going down two blocks, Mark walked into James and Sons gun shop. Nor only did Mark buy guns and supplies from the old store, but he also made use of the shooting range that could be found in the back of the store. Mark enjoyed the simplicity of the facilities, unlike the range found at HQ. Walking into the store with the small dinging of a bell hanging off the door, Mark was met by the soft, aging eyes of Marty James, the 79 year old man and current owner of the store. Joking in the fashion Mark had grown accustomed to, Marty slowly walked around the counter, saying, “Hey you ole lazy ass. Where ya been these passin weeks? You ain’t been round here in fo-eva you little bastard!”

Laughing, Mark answered, “Who you calling a lazy ass you old man. My ass got up for a 15 mile run this morning and I fucking barely broke a sweat. So don’t talk to me like that. Things have just been passing too damn fast, you know?”

The body of the old man shook with laughter, forgetting how much like a son Mark had been years ago. “Don’t be tellin’ me shit bout that boi. But what bring you round today?”

Mark took in a deep breath, making sure he was positive of his request, and stated, “I need to go to the backroom.”

With another laugh, Marty asked, “Surely ya aren’t goin kill no ass t’night are ya Mark?” Marty was one of the few people outside of the agency that knew basic details about what Mark did for a living.

“What do you have back there you old piece of shit?”

With a gentle nod, Marty nodded off to the side and began to slowly walk. Mark, following closely behind, struck up meaningless conversation on the way to the backroom about how his sons were.

“They doin good in the world boi. One of em got married off to some young girl and another left tha school and gone on to some job a’workin with his hands. They done me proud. Just like you have boi.”

Mark smiled, remembering how the old man had always treated Mark like a son. After all, he had been shooting here for many years ever since he purchased his first gun from Martie.

“Here we are boi.” Walking into a room in the back of the store, Marty cut on the light, showing Mark all the illegal goods Marty kept. From submachine guns and rockets to grenades and dynamite, the back room held enough firepower to take down a small army. Walking in, Mary asked, “What you looking for?”

“I need a sawed-off shot gun, cut as short as possible. I also need shells that can cut through bulletproof vests. You have anything like that?”

Marty laughed, this time combined with a cough, and said, “Fuck yes I do boi. And I woulda want to know whatca plannin on doin with this, but I knows better.” Shuffling through the varied supplies, he pulled out a gun that resembled a large pistil and, continuing to look, pulled out a small plastic baggie of shells. “Now this shit took f’ever to make. But they shoot the ass out of any shit they in. Ya load it same as any shotgun then fire the fuck away. This look good?”

Mark nodded in approval. “Do you have more then 10 shells? I want to test fire it to make sure this shit is as good as you say it is.”

For the first time, Marty shook his head. “Nope, 10 as much as I could make me here in the shop. You know you a damn good shot, so you only needing 2 tests. Lets go fire tha bitch.”

Having no choice but to agree, Mark nodded in approval and they walked 10 feet over to the small dirt room with a single target out at 100ft. Marty drew up a string that brought the target into 10ft.

“Now boi, you gotta remember to shoot the bastards at close range, otherwise tha shit is no good. Now takes it and shoot em up.”

Taking the gun, Mark loaded the gun quickly, locked it back into position, and fired the two shots off in quick secession, one toward the head and one the legs. Looking at his target, it was filled with multiple holes that clearly cleared its paper body of any life. Satisfied with the results that the gun produced, Mark looked over at Marty, whose mouth was open from the shock of the shots. “You alright old man?”

“Shit boi. Next time give an ole man warnin ‘fore you fire that shit.”

Walking back to the front room, Mark paid for the gun and said his goodbyes. Marty, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“Boi, where yas goin so fast? You gonna come on ova and have yourselves a cup’o tea with me and the sons.”

While Mark just wanted to make an excuse to get out of it, he found he couldn’t deny his long time friend. “If we must, you piece of shit.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Marty said, “Good boi. Now lets’a go.”

Leaving the distraction of his challenge ahead, Mark went off and spent the afternoon with his friend, with no concern about anything else.