AN-
The sniper is a lot like our favorite Stringfellow Hawke. Only he isn't afraid to open up, were Hawke keeps things bottled up. Jessup writes his down or spends time exploring his feelings. Again you have to pull it out of Hawke or decipher his silence.
He views women as sacred I think like Hawke does in his own personal way. In fact Jessup refers again and again to Cait as an Angel. He also has a soft spot in particular for children because they are so innocent. Again he is like a revealing version of Hawke.
He refers to Isis as Caitlin's daughter. He just assumes. We of course know differently but he doesn't. I would like to also go on and point out he does know String and Saint John. He has served with them. So with that being said, I think I will just shut up...
Would also like to note Horn has him under control-
The Sniper
A bit of advice.
Promise no one and trust no one's promise.
Jessup Conrad
Daily journal of Jessup Conrad
I let my fingers trail over the leather-bound book. There is so much I want to confess today.
I've done a lot in my life. Most of it I haven't been too proud of. If I had to name my number one sin, I suppose it would be rebellion.
I went against my family's wishes. I joined the militia. Oh yes poor little rich boy, looking to shift my boredom. I started smoking stogies at the age of 14. Just to show my mother I could be the man of the house. Now I sit here reflecting back on it. I think I did it to get a little of my father's attention. I can proudly say it didn't work.
I have joined or bounced around, one thing after another getting into one country or another's wars. I am still in my prime, just thirty-three. I am a world-class marksman, a lover of the arts, a ruler, and a lady charmer.
I have to stop and think about that trait. I am a lady charmer indeed. Just like my father. NO! I sweep my hand across the desk. I will not be like my father. I won't be the monster he was. I will not use women. I will love but one. I will put her on a pedestal. I will treat her like she should be treated.
Woman is a gift to mankind, they are soft, fragile, and man is to cover them. Protect them. She will know no hurt in my presence. She will be my saving angel.
I slump back into my chair. My saving angel won't love me because I own a small country or rule it. She will love me because she knows all my deepest darkest secrets, and still believes she can save me. That will be my saving angel.
I could curse the firm for putting me in this position. No I can't actually blame the firm. It's my own flaming fault I am holding up here with John Bradford Horn. They ask me to carry out a simple task. Just keep tabs on Angelica.
Nothing more but no I had to get in deeper. But I keep telling myself I had too. He wants my country my people, my wealth. Wealth, yeah right that's why my sorry butt is in this position right now. Money and power.
I suppose journal you really want to know what I did today. Well I actually it was last night now.
I did the most horrible thing I think I have done. I have crossed the line. I swore t to my dying mother; I swore to God I would never ever under no circumstances hurt an innocent.
But today, I broke that promise. I knowingly and willingly committed the crime. You already knew journal I had sold my soul to the devil known as John Bradford Horn, now I will never ever be redeemed. I have become the monster; I have fought so long and so hard to destroy.
Blood is on my hands, the purest and most innocent.
I stand to pace. I glare into the camera lens. I know he is watching me, waiting on me to break. It is too late. I am already broken.
She broke me, that beautiful creature, so feminine yet so fierce. I should have been the one to pull the trigger of the gun that stole the angel of mercy from this world. But instead someone else would carry the title of the damned.
I had as well done so when I shot her tire out. In that instant I could have. If the breeze had been just a little off. If I had jerked. If she had swerved. The bullet would have ripped through the car interior. All variables that make me sick to the pit of my stomach.
I had come back to the site where the car had been forced off. But before I could get to them I heard a small child wailing and the explosion of a small caliber gun. As I started down the embankment I saw her for the first time. Something inside me broke. I believe it was a piece of my heart.
She lay motionless her hair fanned around her like a halo. I saw the blossoming stain of crimson. I wanted to join the child that now clung to her side weeping. How anyone could hurt something so beautiful.
The least I could do for the angel was take her little girl. I know I had become a monster, but still just a little part of me clung to human compassion. She was howling to beat the band, huddling next to the angel. She was touching her trying to make her get up. I believe in that instant another piece of my heart broke off.
I didn't trust those gun waving idiots with the child, with her child. I wasn't even be sure I could trust myself with the innocent one. She so small and fine boned.
I slid into my mask of indifference as I stepped in and swept the little ragdoll up. I know it was cold hearted of me. I should have seen if I could have saved her mother. But they were going on that he'd killed her. So I assumed the angel was dead. I should have tried to help her but I didn't; now I will live with that regret for the rest of my life.
I held to the innocent little child. My heart already broken for her mother, there was no comfort. No words to make everything all better. So I just sat holding her, crying with her.
Well journal I have just one last confession before I close. I took the little girl, back to my truck. I refused to let one of them ride with me. What did they think I needed protection from her? The little girl? I owed it to her, to protect her, to weep with her. To wipe her tears away. To assure her others felt her pain and mourned with her.
Now I am sitting here, staring at my cell. They call it a room I call it a cell or personal prison. They monitor everything I do. Even now I am sure big brother is watching waiting to see what my next move will be.
I stop looking at my hands again. I look like a human being but I feel like a monster. I glance at my hands again. I know, I know that I have her blood on my hands. I as good as killed an angel.
