This is a little one-shot of mine. It's my first attempt at one, and also my first experience with a first-person narrative. Feedback would be very much appreciated.
Tam Dulcis Est Pax
A Neurotoxic Productions One-Shot by Adder1
Adder Waldheim McBannon, Commando.
I've been with the Sleight of Hand.
Cornerian Foreign Vanguard.
Special Operations Executive (Yes, I've lived that long.).
Venomian Special Air Service.
Spetsnaz.
Black Ops.
Special Ops.
PsyOps.
Civil Affairs.
Alpha Tango, Lima.
Star Serpent Elite Squadron and Soldier Force leader.
I've been there, done that.
Quite a repertoire, hm?
Wrong.
So what if I've been in the best military and clandestine organizations that the Lylat System has ever seen? People are going to remember me as only that.
A warmonger, not a peacemonger.
In all my years, shooting this and stabbing or slashing…or dismembering…that, I honestly think it's all for naught. But that's my lifestyle for you. More shooting. More stabbing and slashing (dismembering, too). More of the crap I don't want.
Sometimes I pause to think why everyone's so damn willing to join the military nowadays. Maybe it's because they don't know the reality of it all. Maybe they're not ready for the macrocosm of the world out there messing with their sorry little microcosm. Maybe they're just to naïve to understand the political implications of their military actions and the military implications of their political actions. I can't say for sure. But I won't stop them. Go ahead and enlist. Get shot at. Get bombarded into the stone age. Then you'll understand my viewpoint.
I'm tired of the fact that there's always an idiot out there, asking, "Commander McBannon, you're a merc, right?"
And I'll answer yes, yes I am.
And he'll (for some reason it's always a guy, never a girl, always a guy) continue, "Then why do you hate war so much?"
And I'll tell him of all the pain.
All the death.
All the destruction.
But he won't get it into that thick skull of his. He'll continue asking the stupid questions, next being, "Why do you hate it like that if that's how you get paid?"
You guys don't seem to get it, so I'll make it easy for you- I'd rather be a dirt-poor beggar living, no, rotting in the slums of Zoness, laughed at every day, beaten every night, eating shit for supper than be a merc.
Tam Dulcis Est Pax.
Ever heard of that?
Dictionary. Search engine. Your mother. Use whatever reference item you have at your disposal to find out what it means. It should be obvious.
…
…You know…even as I say this, I still think of it. I think of this:
How many peace prize acceptors…fell…in the name of "freedom"?
How many curers of cancer, HIV/AIDS…had their lives taken from them…in the name of "honor"?
How many solvers of world hunger, system hunger…starved…in the name of "pride"?
How many brilliant inventors…wasted away… for "There's strong, and then there's Army strong"?
How many artists, how many authors, how many chefs, how many men and women of such potential…died…just because they were in the wrong place and the wrong time when a shit-for-brains artillery crew made a shit-for-brains miscalculation?
Answer the question. Estimate. At least just for your planet.
Now multiply that by the number of planets, moons, and territories in your system. Then multiply that by the number of systems in your galaxy. Then multiply that by the number of galaxies in your cluster, then the number of clusters in your supercluster, then the number of superclusters in your filament, then the number of filaments in your universe, then the number of universes in your multiverse.
What do you get? Freedom? Honor? Pride? There's strong, and then there's Army strong?
Those are empty words, are you reading this? Empty…words.
You wanted reality?
Well, you got a good dose of it.
Yeah. Painful, isn't it?
I'll tell you…what true freedom, true honor and pride are (If you haven't understood yet, there is no such thing as the stupidity that is Army strong.).
Freedom is defined as the power to exercise choice and make decisions without constraint from within or without; autonomy; self-determination. I'll tell you, you get none of that from the moment you meet your first drill sergeant. Even less when you get your first uniform. Three guesses as to why they call it a "uniform". No choice, no freedom.
True freedom is a feeling of release. That you can do anything you want without anyone stopping you. Keep that freedom.
Honor is defined as a source of credit or distinction; high respect, as for worth, merit, or rank; honesty, fairness, integrity in one's own belief and actions. All those medals I have net me no such things, at least something true or real. And it's certainly not your own beliefs and actions being glorified. When you're a soldier, you're merely a tool of national, international, interplanetary, or intergalactic policy brought by death en masse.
True honor is achieved when you feel that you've done the right thing. Not just the right thing…but doing the morally right thing in the face of peer pressure and temptation. Keep that honor.
Pride is defined as a high or inordinate opinion of one's own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, et cetera. I could be commander of the entire Venomian Heer, and I wouldn't feel an ounce of pride. All that pride you get from the military is just that ego of yours acting up and saying, "Oh, look at me, look at me, I got a gun, I got training, I killed people! Whatcha gonna do? I am Army STRONG, baby!"
True pride is still that feeling of dignity, but only when you know that you have the significant and true freedom and that significant and true honor to back it up. Keep that pride.
As for me…
Adder Waldheim McBannon, Commando. I remember the time where I was just as naïve as those guys who keep on bugging me with the stupid questions. I remember when I was possessed by the incredibly youthful and incredibly stupid idea that I was flying so high in life that nothing could bring me crashing down to earth. I remember how I laughed in the face of War.
Looks like War had the last laugh.
Sleight of Hand? They only taught me to hate and slaughter people like swine just for the sake of imperialism.
Cornerian Foreign Vanguard? They only updated my hate and anger with the modern times and weaponry.
Special Operations Executive? I only learned how to kill a little more quietly and hide evidence of such.
Venomian Special Air Service? I only learned how to kill more effectively and in a larger variety places.
Spetsnaz? I only became more brutal, using my primal side as a tool of destruction.
Black Ops? I only became more powerful, more intimidating, more deathly.
Special Ops? Unconventional warfare. Just as bad, since I trained others in what I have learned.
PsyOps? I learned how to mess with the mind through psychological warfare from miles away and ruin them in person.
Civil Affairs? Assisted civilians and non-combatants. That's good, right? Except the reason was only so they wouldn't help the enemy out instead. Call it bribing en masse.
Alpha Tango, Lima? I turned into a killing machine by now, a consummate weapon of war. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Been there, done that.
Quite a repertoire, hm? A repertoire of hate, death, brutality, destruction, and loss. That's how I see it. That's how it will be seen.
That just leaves one thing left.
Star Serpent Elite Squadron and Soldier Force leader?
As I've said before, I would rather rot in the streets as a beggar than be a soldier. So why did I continue it with my own private military company?
Because of the team.
My friends.
My brothers and sisters.
My kin as well.
One of the few things that I am grateful to have learned through decades of war…was what it meant to be a leader. Service before self. Only dedication and excellence for the good of the whole. Nothing else. If it weren't for my friends, I would've stopped right after the Sleight of Hand. I wanted to ensure their safety. It was my responsibility as a leader and friend.
I also had a certain other responsibility as a kinsman and a sharer of blood. My kind…serpentkind… are a hated breed. And I may very well have been one of the ones who ignited that flame of abhorrence and repugnance… but I may very well be one of the ones who will douse them. I am here to prove that I am not the cold-blooded killer I used to be, and that none of my kin- at least intentionally from birth- are as well. I am here to prove that our hearts and minds and souls are the same as any Lylatian heart and mind and soul you'll ever find. I have spent years trying to prove my worth, our worth. Sheltering the weak and pure from the corruptively powerful, providing a haven in a time of darkness. It can be so simple as offering one's time and skill for a charitable cause…
But at times, I wonder.
At times, I doubt.
Have I really changed from that little cobra-pit viper hybrid long ago- the one who thought he was flying so high that nothing could bring him crashing down to earth, or so he thought? The one who shared the same naïveté as those idiots with the stupid questions? The very one who laughed in the face of War?
…I don't know. I can't answer that. Because I still fight. I still kill. For Lylat, perhaps…but perhaps also for myself. There are times where I need to break a soul to mend mine, bring pain to rid of my own, foul minds to cleanse that which belongs to me, steal a life…to reassure myself that I, too, live and exist.
I can even look at the people enlisting as an example. Maybe I've been just like the others, stereotyping and discriminating over false pretenses. Because there are certainly those drafted few that don't deserve the same fate I have in store, and there are certainly those who join the military for a more noble cause. And perhaps they already know of the empty words, the horrors, the pain, the death, the sheer ugliness of war.
Maybe I truly haven't changed all that much.
But at least I possess the resolve to turn my life around.
Well, there. I've spilled it out for you. If you don't get it now, you're a total retard (or Haber Omnibus Hawkins). So there. I feel I don't need to write much more. If you're one of those total retards, go ahead. Go ahead and enlist. Get shot at. Get bombarded into the stone age. Then you'll understand my viewpoint for sure.
You'll understand the empty words.
You'll understand how many people…died…in the name of those empty words.
You'll understand what it means to say, Tam Dulcis Est Pax.
I know I understand.
Because I've died twice for it. I have paid the ultimate price for my childhood naïveté.
The first time was when the first bomb of the war exploded in my heart, all the hearts of my friends…and took away my innocence and my amor de vida. The second one was when a nova bomb blew what was left of me to kingdom come.
Frankly, I don't see the point of war. It's always a condemnable, atrocious, unforgivable, undeniable act. In the end, it's the most brutal method of indicating international or intergalactic policy, and the soldiers are the pawns of the grand debate. I just feel like going back in time and tearing the throat out of whomever or whatever first conceived the notion of war. It is so stupid, so blindly stupid! If nations, peoples, planets, races wish to fight one another, they best way they should do it is by putting the leaders in a goddamn boxing ring, handing them a pair of gloves, and let them take care of it themselves! Instead of letting all those people of those planets, those star systems, those galaxies, those clusters, those superclusters, those filaments, those universes…all go up…for those empty words…
I don't even see the need for violence anymore, even… Just talk the goddamn issues out, won't you? No pain. Just a war of words instead of a war of blood, oil, and steel.
Tam Dulcis Est Pax.
Now repeat it to yourself! Do it! Do it with passion!
Tam Dulcis Est Pax!
Fall asleep to those words! Bury them in your mind! Live and die by those words!
Tam Dulcis Est Pax!
Keep your true freedom, your true honor, your true pride! Don't believe in the lies that shield the foul poison of war!
Tam Dulcis Est Pax.
Remember it. And remember it well.
So there. That's the ranting of a tired, old snake. That's my view of it all.
But even if you read and heed…
…or not…
Adder Waldheim McBannon, Commando. Living weapon of War.
Reporting for duty.
…For the very…last…time…
…For the sake…of peace…
…For so sweet is peace…
Tam...Dulcis...Est...Pax...