Dear Sebastian Moran,
Firstly your name is stupid and annoying, I'm going to call you Sebby. And you can just deal with it. Or just not answer and I'll find another stupid soldier person to write to. I don't even want to be writing this letter. But my psychiatrist seems to think I need someone to talk to. The idiot thought it would be a good idea for me to write to a soldier because we are both in place we probably aren't comfortable with and that we're uncomfortable and alone in. In my case my own head, in your case wherever the fuck you are fucking that stupid ass war. Anyway, she's an idiot, and she's totally wrong. I don't need to write to anyone, I don't need to do anything. But I thought I'd see what it was like. Plus I'm kinda curious about soldiers. I mean what the hell makes you go out there to somewhere where you could be killed at any moment? Do you do it in order to feel alive? To feel like you're doing something to help others (if you're an angel like that don't bother writing back, I want someone interesting)? I mean why? It's mental if you ask me.
Anyway, I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is James Moriarty, you will call my Jim or Mr Moriarty. Call me James and I will make the war seem friendly with what I will do to you, clear? Good, I'm glad. I'm Irish not that that is important. I left Ireland young, but as everyone loves to point out, I never truly lost the accent. And quite right too. I am not British, I don't want to sound it. And I am the most dangerous man in London. Brilliant title don't you think, I think it's brilliant. What does that mean? Well, Sebby, stick around, maybe you'll find out.
M. - Jim,
I have to admit I was surprised to get your letter. I never get post and in all honesty I think all of my squad were shocked as well. I do not appreciate the comments asking if I had a secret girlfriend that suddenly remembered she cared. Yeah, I'm surrounded by idiots and let me tell you now, I am not here out of any sense of duty. It's not for Queen and Country or any of that crap. I don't see myself as a patriot, I don't see this as something I ought to be do to make the work a better place. No, I am not an angel. Do I have the right to keep writing? Well tough shit if you think not because I'm going to. You wanted to know why I came here, well your first guess was closest to the truth. In all honesty, the only thing I've ever felt like I was any good at was hurting people. People told me that was crap and that I was a good person at heart, but I don't believe that shit for a moment. I enjoyed it. I have a good shot, a very good shot. I'm trained as a sniper but that doesn't come into this much. I'm a colonel here. I'm in charge of a group and god knows I hate that, but that's not important. The reason I came here was as a challenge to myself. I saw – I still see – myself as someone who's at their best when hurting others, and where would be a better place to hurt someone than at what can only be described as hell on earth. So yeah, I wanted to see that I could do something, something that would stand for something. That something didn't have to be good, in fact I thought it would be better if it wasn't good. And I wanted to feel like I was doing something. I spent so much time just sitting in London, bored. I was doing nothing and going nothing. I needed to get out.
In all honestly now I'm here I'm not sure what's worse. The still boringness of London or the hell that is Afghanistan. I hated London, I hated it because nothing happened. The problem is now, I hate it here, because too much happens. I'll be perfectly honest with you, Jim, I'm a coward. I don't feel like this is the place for me, I don't feel like the action is anything good. I hate it. I want to run away and hide from it all. I feel like a stupid little boy here. It's ridiculous. I'm here and I'm in charge of this large group of men, and I have to give them pep talks and I have to prepare them for what they're going to face out there in the battles. But how can I prepare them for it, I still don't feel used to it and I've been working my way up. They look up to me because I'm in a position above them, they have questions, questions that I'm supposed to have answers to but I don't. I don't have any answers. I'm a joke.
Anyway, enough about that, I'm sure you don't want to hear it, you probably didn't even expect an answer. In all honesty, the only reason I am answering is because I have no one back home and this makes me feel for once that I'm not completely isolated, that there is something even though there isn't really. It's a good way to pretend for a while. I understand if you don't write about but I would love it if you did.
Also, I want to know about London. Can you tell me about London? What's going on there at the moment? When you say you're the most dangerous man in London, what do you mean by that exactly? What do you do? Tell me about the city, the drama, the… I don't even really know what I mean, just tell me anything, please.
Thank you in advance.
Sebastian Moran.
Ps. call me what the hell you like.
—-
Sebbyyy,
You wrote back! You actually wrote back. God, I wasn't expecting that, you were right. I thought you'd think I was crazy – which for your information, I am – and would want to like run a mile. Not that you can really run a mile from me since we aren't actually in the same place, but whatever, you know what I mean. Tell anyone this and I'll have you killed, but I'm glad you wrote back.
I'll be perfectly honest with you here. Clearly you're not a coward. I mean you're in Afghanistan just to prove a point to yourself and everyone else. I have admiration for that. That is of course the best reason to do anything, to stick two fingers up to the rest of the world, I completely approve. It sounds to me like you need to learn to swallow down your fear, if you're a colonel, then clearly you have what it takes to be there. They don't just put people in that position for the sake of it, you got that. You just need to learn to make yourself heard, make yourself known. Forget that you're unsure and make it sound like you're not. They're looking up to you, they need you to answer and be clear and certain, even if you are. Sometimes you may need to lie to them but if you do that's ok, I don't mean lie to protect them, but lie to make yourself sound more sure than you are. Don't play the war down, that's the worst thing you could do, I think. But just make yourself heard.
I understand where you're coming from. I do. I often want to run away, I want to hide and tell everyone else to piss off, that I can't do this anymore. But I don't. I can't. If I did the entire empire I have built would collapse and I can't let that happen. Sometimes I just want it to because I can't deal with it, but what would I be left with if I didn't have it? Nothing is the answer. I would be stuck in London with no distraction and just my thoughts. I couldn't deal with that. That would be worse than dealing with it. Just think like that, the consequences of not dealing could be worse than actually dealing with it would be.
Regarding your question about London: It is the same as always, but I guess that isn't what you want to hear. I suppose you want to be reminded of what 'same as always' means. You want to for a moment feel like you're back here. Yes, well, I'm not sure how much I can help you with that. But as I said to you regarding your men, I'm not going to lie to you. London is boring, it's tedious and annoying. Sometimes I feel as though there's no colour in London, like it's all grey. Grey buildings, grey clouds, grey expressions. Have you ever noticed that no one ever really looks happy in London. They're not living the big city dream, they're feeling lost and crushed, they're just a number, amongst so many other people. There's little originality, there's little meaning to what they're doing. They're barely living, they're just surviving. It's just busy streets, busy tubes, even the river is busy. It's boring, did I mention that? Yes, boring and tedious. Maybe you need that again, Sebby, maybe you need to get lost, to become just a number. Maybe that's what I need, but I can't be. And I guess because you're there, neither can you.
And me. Oh I'm just the world's only Consulting Criminal. There's only one of me in the world. Take from that what you will.
Jim.
—
Jimmy,
You only said that calling you James would get me a bad reaction, therefore I'm going to call you Jimmy. I think that's only fair since you're calling me Sebby. Thank you for replying again. I thought you would get annoyed and just not bother again. I'm glad you approve of my actions. I'm sorry if my writing's a bit sloppy at the moment, I'm in a bit of a rush, the post will be going soon and if I miss it it'll be a fortnight before I can sent this. Also there's a lot going on here at the moment. My troops have to prepare to go out so I can't say much.
London sounds terribly lovely. I think you're write, I think I do need to just become a number, just a person in the crowd again. London's boring mundaneness seems so lovely compared to this. Still I don't want to settle into civilian life again. It's like I need something in between. Not the war, not London life, but something that has the best of both.
Consulting Criminal. Did you say that just to be cryptic or is it your actually title? I don't know, I guess, you help up criminal or something. You're like head criminal. God knows what that means.
Gotta run,
Sebby.
Ps. I added a photo, in case you were curious, can I have one of you?
—
Tiger,
Since you seem to have accepted and even chose to use the name Sebby, I realised you need a new nickname. And it suits, anyway, because you're all gorgeous and elegant and deadly, like a tiger. Anyway, I've added a picture as well since you so nicely asked for one. I think it captures my beauty and my deep brown eyes, and the serious-yet-playfulness of my nature, do you not think? By the way, the sort of thing you probably want to know, I'm gay. It's the sort of thing that's pretty obvious if you're around me but I'm not sure how much it comes across in my writing. Felt you probably ought to know. If that's a problem, let me know and I won't bother writing anymore.
Terribly lovely. What a perfectly oxymoronic way to describe London. Yes, I do think that is perfect. Terrible and yet lovely. I think you're right, tiger, you do need something in between. Good luck finding it though. How long have you been stuck in that stupid war anyway?
Jim.
—
Jim,
All right, if you're calling me Tiger, I'm going to call you Kitten. Because let's face it, that picture and the way you talk shows how much of a kitten you are. Cute, adorable, a little vulnerable, but with scratch. You think you being gay will be a problem with me? I guess this shows that we're only communicating through letters. I am as well. And you're very cute.
Things are getting really hectic here. More so than usual. This is the first time in well over a week where I've had time to do something and not had to use it to sleep. It's mental. I'm exhausted, considering doing something stupid just to get out of here. I've been here years, on and off of course, I've had leave, I've just not really had anything to do with it. I'm 37 and I've been doing this since I was 20. It's steadily got worse and worse, but I've have no reason to leave because London is worse I think. Now I'm not so sure.
Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with how crap I'm feeling out here. Can you tell me more about yourself?
Seb
—-
Sebby,
Kitten?! KITTEN?! I am not cute and vulnerable. I am gorgeous and terrifying and don't you be saying otherwise, idiot.
Hmm, you want to know about me… Well, I'm 35 and I've been building this business since I ran away from home at 16. There's nothing else you really need to know about me. I'm Irish, in Britain. There's nothing much to tell. I'm charismatic and charming. Oh and I have the perfect job for you when you get back. If you ever get back to London. But yes, you should work for me.
Write back soon, I'm awfully bored
Jim.
—-
Sebastian,
It's been two months. It's not that I'm worried or anything, I just wondered why you haven't answered. I thought maybe you missed the post but then more and more time started passing and it's been two months like I said. You haven't gone and got yourself blown up or anything have you? I've been checking the news and I haven't heard your name mentioned but that doesn't necessarily mean something. Please write back tiger.
Jim.
—-
Jimmy,
I did something stupid. But I'm on my way back. You don't need to write anymore. I land into Heathrow on Wednesday at just after midday. Go back to terrorising London now. Thanks for keeping me sane. It meant a lot.
Goodbye,
Sebby.
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