The Adventures of Sivart, Nazrat, and Ret-tuc
How It All Began
A short, red-headed boy made his way down the streets of Washington D.C. He had nothing but his goals on his mind. The only light left in his life was the light that he carried to his destination. His only method of survival was the twenty-dollar bill that he had been paid to complete the mission to which he was on the way at that moment.
The rain was falling in heaps so lighting the torch would not have been helpful at the moment. Still, it felt like a brother to the young man. Being seven, he was not very resourceful, and his mentor did not care to teach him the ways of life. Actually, he was treated like an animal. He ate only what was given to him, learning never to ask but only to accept.
His hair had only been cut once when it was necessary to hide his identity. Only a coward would send a child to burn down the white house - I guess that makes Juan Sanchez a coward. Yes, the youth's mission was dangerous…he would probably be killed, but that was nothing to Sanchez. His hair fell into his eyes, wet from the torrential rains that had been pounding him for the past two years.
Living in Seattle alone offered less than the best for the kid. His "father" as he knew him by only sent money when it was available and only sent enough to get by. The child knew no home. He made the streets his home and learned to master the art of disguise. You would think that neighbors, cops, or the elderly would have noticed a seven-year-old and offered their help, but the selfish pieces of trash only watched as he lived life in hell.
On the streets, Ret-tuc - as he had become known as - learned valuable skills. Nomads like himself trained him in the art of hand to hand combat as well as useful techniques for escaping buildings and surviving gunfights. He even had a gun of his own. It was an older model shotgun which he vowed only to use if necessary. He did not spend money on ammunition. He had only four shots, but that was all that he intended to need.
Sure, Ret-tuc could have found a way back to his shack of a house and murdered Sanchez, but he did not know that it was the best way. He lived in fear of him and did exactly as he was told to do. Vietnam would not have been as harsh as the life that Ret-tuc was enduring.
His latest task was to burn down the white house. Sanchez was becoming a guerilla politician. He was active in advertising his hate for the government and had finally found a method of revenge. Instead of getting revenge for his people, however, he was signing Ret-tuc's death contract. He should have done the deed himself if he expected success. The fool was not as great at strategy as he thought he was.
Sanchez's beast of a wife was exactly as bad as he. She wore bandanas and enslaved young girls to do her work. She ate cheese crackers and nachos and she watched Dr. Phil and Oprah everyday. She wanted to watch Rachel Ray, but she knew that her excited appetite would not have been able to handle it.
