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Recognition
Al Simmons was born in Albany but was born again in Hell. Now as he stood on the threshold of oblivion he began to remember his life. His two lives. His parents did their best on a modest budget. He descended from slaves kidnapped from Africa, but valued America's new freedom so he was patriotic at a young age. At three he memorized all the songs about the American flag and would spend his preschool days reciting them. At four his violent tendencies began to start. A boy a year older than him called him a "n*gger" Al didn't know what that was and neither did the boy but it set off a spark that caused an explosion of rage. Fights were normal at his age, but Al didn't know how to stop and he didn't want to stop, he was having too much fun. He delighted the cracking noise of his fists hitting bone and spilling blood. Sometimes the blood would fly up like a fountain, but he wanted to see more than blood he wanted guts, he wanted to choke him with his intestines, and hold his heart in his hand and feel the pulse. The fight lasted a good five minutes and Al got his ass kicked, but we began to see a side that would develop more later in life.
By eighteen Al joined the military where he killed for his first time. It was in a village in Baghdad where the occupying power wasn't willing to give into U.S. demands of occupation. Al was under supervision of the legendary Jess Chapel. They had already mowed down civilians who were fleeing their burning homes. Al only pretended to pull the trigger and no one noticed. He may have dodged out of this one but his moment was coming up soon. After killing his citizens, burning his towns, and bombing his cities, they thought the current Iraqi leader needed some more convincing so they were going to pay him a little visit. This is crazy thought Al I was only sent here because of a bet my commanding officers made, and no one bet I would make it they were betting the hour I would die at. Al's platoon passed the barriers of the president's mansion and killed the guards, they were now in the his office.
"Come on Mutherf*cker all you need to do is sign this treaty and we leave," said Chapel," It's as simple as that."
"I will not let your government take over my country," replied the Dictator.
"Oh you will," said Chapel," you just need a little convincing." He searched the crowd of soldiers for a victim. He found one. "Simmons, get over here."
"Yes sir?," said Al nervously.
"Show Mr. Mustafa the fine art of U.S. diplomacy."
Al looked at the fallen dictator with pity as Mr. Mustafa lost all bodily control.
"You better sign this treaty," he said nervously, "Or else I'll get really mad," and he shook fist as if to look threateningly.
"No not like that!," yelled Chapel," Like this." He slammed his machete on the table cutting off the once powerful leaders fingertips. "Come on do it, he only needs one hand to sign the treaty." Al looked at the other soldiers for help, they were all watching him as if he was about to pass some sort of test.
Al squeamishly cut him along the face and cringed at his screams.
"Come on you can do better than a little paper cut."
Al didn't want to admit it, but he liked those screams and he wanted more. He loped of his entire hand.
"Atta boy," said Chapel as he and the soldiers looked approvingly. But Al wasn't done he wanted more. He started cutting, slashing , and dicing until Muhammad Mustafa was made into little pieces.
"Holy Sh*t boy," laughed Chapel," You really f*cked up there. How are we going to get him to sign the treaty."
Al lost his rage and began to look a little guilty.
"Hey but don't worry kid it's all right we can always fake his signature."
"Really," asked Al hopefully.
"Sure we do it all the time, we were just having a little fun with you, don't take it too seriously."
From that point on Al began to rise in the ranks of the army and his televised rescue of the U.S. president got him a job under a new mentor: JASON WYNN.
The missions became bloodier and victims more innocent, but Al was a good soldier and did what he was told. Killing became an addiction, he lived for it, he needed it, no sex or love could ever match to the joy of killing, or at least that's what he thought.
Her name was Wanda Blake, when he saw her the anxiety while away from battle disappeared, he didn't even want to go back to war he just wanted to be with her. It took him four days to get the courage to talk to her. At first she didn't seem remotely interested, but that changed, after a while they moved in together. Al's life seemed perfect he had his two favorite things killing and Wanda, with a life so perfect something would have to go.
One day in Somalia Al and Chapel were driving in their humvee. Al had his head out the window enjoying the breeze and the delightful stench of death. When suddenly Chapel stopped the car and pulled over at a small apartment complex. This was supposedly the head quarters for the terrorists who bombed the United States embassy five years ago. A direct assault was too dangerous for two men they had to use a more brutal approach.
"One...Two...Three...Four, that's it."
Chapel fired a small missile at the fourth room on the top floor, it was a direct hit. Quickly the pair raced up the stairs until they arrived at the room. The explosion had taken out most of the terrorists but the leader and his girlfriend were still alive. Chapel busted in the room and took out the leader.
"Here," he said as he handed Al a small pistol, "Finish the job Simmons."
Al pointed the gun at the girl, but then he noticed something. It was Wanda, she had her hair, her eyes, even her lips. He fired six shots. Smoke escaped from the barrel and holes appeared on the wall. He didn't hit her once.
"I guess I'm a little off today," said Al.
"Yeah I guess so," said Chapel a little concerned, but that voice of concern turned to one of anger, "You little sh*t! When I give you an order you better damn well follow through."
"Sorry sir," said Simmons weakly.
"Sorry doesn't cut it, it's over Simmons your finished!"
The next day Al was in Wynn's office feeling very nervous.
"Now Al, I can call you call you Al right?," said Wynn kindly.
"Yes sir."
"Please rank doesn't exist here just talk to me as if I were your friend." He put his hand on Al's shoulder, "So tell us Al, and only if you want to, what happened yesterday."
Al told them, he told them about the landing in Somalia at six hundred hours, the assault at twelve hundred hours, and how he didn't kill his target fifteen minutes later.
"Thank you Al that was very helpful, don't worry I'll take care of this, everything will be fine."
After Al left Wynn's face became sullen and stoic. "He's a security risk it's as simple as that."
Chapel appeared from the shadows. "Why don't you just give him a discharge?, he's obviously unstable."
"We just can't discharge him he still has the support of the president for saving his life."
"Can't you wait for the presidents term to end?"
"No he can't jeopardize another mission."
"So you want him eliminated."
"Yes, but make it look like the enemy did it."
Al spent that night with Wanda, it didn't matter if his missions lasted for weeks the time they spent together made it worth while. Nothing could go wrong, not with the love of Wanda and the support of Wynn. Everything was fine.
The next night Al had just finished a successful assassination when suddenly two figures appeared in front of him. One was a woman, one was a man with a skull painted on his face that glowed in the night. There wasn't time to react he felt himself being him very hard in the stomach by two hard blunt objects. He tried to lift his gun to fire but he didn't have the strength. Then came the worst feeling of all. He felt fire, a huge ball of it, the heat made him want to die, he felt his limbs evaporate and turn to dust, then his body, then his face, until he was nothing.
There was darkness, and in that darkness a voice called out to him.
"What do you want? What ever you want you may have," said the voice.
It was the most beautiful voice he ever heard. But he was so confused he didn't know what was going on.
"Wanda!," he screamed, "Wanda where are you."
"Very well you have made you choice."
Suddenly the darkness disappeared and he found himself in an alleyway curled up like a frightened child.
This is what Spawn remembered as all of existence disappeared in front of him.