As Revolt was strolling through the French Quarter of New Orleans on a breezy spring afternoon, he was struck by an ever occurring flash back. He thought joining the organized crime rings of America would calm the flash backs, but his plan seems to be failing. Once he was no longer paralyzed from the flash back a wicked smile grew upon his face. He loved his days as a mercenary. Helping the oppressed peoples around the world fight back against their oppressive governments. His current flash back was about the mission that took him out of commission. As the flash back ran through his mind, he decided he would tell his tale. Maybe it would get it off his mind.

He looked around, and realized that his stroll had led him to a mafioso meeting grounds, where people came to speak their mind, etc. Just his luck. He strolled over to the old and decrepit soap box. After stepping on it to reassure himself it was still sturdy, he placed both feet atop it and looked out to the crowd. He didn't care if anyone listened; he was going to tell his tale regardless. He cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to gain some sort of attention.

Hello world. Fancy meeting you here. My name, as few of you know, is Revolt. Yeah, I have a real name, but I haven't used it in so long that even I don't remember what it is. I am here today to tell you all a little story. I've always been a lover of stories, whether it be telling them, or listening to them. I used to be a mercenary. Fighting for causes I thought was right, and of course for the right amount of money. That is the past though, and I figured I would share the story that took me out of the mercenary game.

As Revolt begins his tale, his eyes go off into the distance, imagining that horrid night.

Revolt was only 23 at the time, young for the mercenary gang, but all around Europe he had become known as the mad to call to lead your revolution. Many oppressive leaders had fallen by his hand. He had been called by the people of a small town in Czechoslovakia. The man who ran this town seemed to run his city outside the eye of the national government. Running it as it was his own small country. The people of this city called on the man known only as Revolt.

There was gunfire everywhere. Revolt had lost a good number of his forces in the days of fighting prior to this night. The men weren't trained what so ever, and didn't know the barrel of a gun from the butt. This made things difficult. He came up with a last ditch effort to take the local government out once and for all. They had located the city ruler in a large estate outside the city limits. Revolt was going to take a small group of men that showed the most promise, and infiltrate the estate and assassinate the ruler.

Revolt and 6 other men, the only men he could find willing to take on this task, stood a couple hundred meters from the estate. They had been there for hours, trying to find a way inside with the least amount of bloodshed. Finally, he found a side of the house that had little guard, and they could take easily. He and the men revolved around the estate, getting counts of guards, escape routes, etc. They finally circled back to their entry point. They would climb up to the top floor, seeing as it was most likely the tyrant would be on that floor.

They climbed up the side of the house, one after another, with Revolt leading the way. They entered a room at the top floor, seemingly empty. They piled into the room only to be surprised by guards hiding, and exposing themselves with a flash of gun fire. Revolt's revolutionaries were shot down in cold blood, but he himself was left unharmed. The guards filed out of the room, and one of the leaders of the revolution stepped in. It turned out Revolt's plan was betrayed, and this could be his undoing. After a small discussion with the traitor, Revolt very quickly pulled his pistol from behind him, and shot the man dead.

The commotion was heard, and the guards rushed in only to be cut down as they entered. Revolt had snatched up his assault rifle, and was laying into the guards as they rushed through the door. After it seemed the last guard was down, Revolt made his way out the door. He made his way through the house, clearing every room as quickly as possible.

After what seemed like hours, Revolt finally made his way to the final room on the bottom floor. If the tyrant was in the house, despite knowing Revolt came to kill him, it would be this room in which he hid. Revolt had long since ran out of ammunition, and was constantly picking up weapons of the deceased to continue his fight. All he had left was his pistol with 5 bullets left. He was hoping it was enough to clear this last room.

Covered in blood, Revolt kicked open the door, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. He scanned the room quickly only to find the tyrant, a giant of a man, alone in the room with nothing but his hunting rifle. Revolt assessed the threat quickly and raised his pistol to fire into the man. He got his shot off directly towards the giants head. However, he was not quick enough, and the tyrant giant had gotten a shot off as well. He felt a hot, stinging pain flare through his midsection, but at the same time he saw the hole he made in his enemies forehead, and watched him drop to the ground.

Revolt felt his death upon him. He had completed his mission, but possibly at the cost of his own life. Revolt stumbled from the room and out the back door. Holding his midsection, and feeling the blood flow, he stumbled into a near by wooded area. That was the last thing he remembered of that night. The next thing he remembered was being on the helicopter that brought him back to America. After that mission, he had no desire to continue on his mercenary path, but wanted to find something exciting to take it's place. This was when he decided to start a life of crime. What a twist right?

Revolt came back to himself in the streets of New Orleans, finding himself back on his soap box.

Well then. There you have it. I hope you all enjoyed my tale. Maybe I will be able to sleep at night now that it is off my mind. I will gladly take your opinions on what occurred that night. Thank you all for listening.

With shaking hands, Fox tries to drink down her dry whiskey and take a long drag from her cigar to calm her down. She was definitely anxious as her heart keep racing, she was entranced by this man named Revolt, story. She was indeed eager to find out what this gentleman could do for the future of the mob world she liked to call home. Her attention was drawn after only a few words were spilled and she grew nervous when he was shot at, immediately worrying if it would lead to his death.

She of course came to her senses a few minutes later as her mind registered it be impossible for him to be standing here today, telling this tale if he had passed. She chuckled to herself for even thinking such a thought, she knew she was a silly one but she couldn’t help be shocked by how crazed she could be sometimes. She was indeed need of help, thinking she was seeing a ghost tell this story. Just to make sure she didn’t go off the deep end she started asking random passer bys if they saw the man as well; that they were hearing something and it wasn’t just all in her head.   

She found relief when she heard he was standing there, she of course was returned with frighten stares and worried glances from whom ever she asked. She didn’t mind though, she was use to people staring at her, what with her being in a circus and a leader to freaks. She was proud to say she wasn’t sane and had to laugh at the looks she was offered. Maybe she would find herself in the loony bin but for the time being she seemed to be fine and if she ever was thrown in she was sure she would find her way out.

After realizing she was drifting away from the topic at hand, she smiled at Revolt and gave him a clap after he was done.

“Seems you have gone through a great ordeal, weren’t you scared at the least? Especially when you didn’t have the members to truly back you; I know it be risky having ones that don’t have a clue about what they are doing.  Was it truly worth it to you? Do you regret what you did? Would you have done the same thing if you know your fellow members would drop dead?”

Her mind always seemed to race on and on with questions, she was never truly able to shut her thought process up so she tended to just spit out a bunch of questions her mind was trying to answer.

 “Sir, I was just wondering, how exactly did you say you found yourself into the life of crime? I mean you told us all what lead to not being a mercenary any more but what about the whole story of you finding your way to New Orleans and getting involved in this thing of ours?  I don’t know, pardon me if you do not wish to explain such things but I was just curious…I feel it would be an interesting topic to cover as well. Maybe I love stories too much but I can’t help but hate when one just ends. Anyone else agree?”

She looked around waiting to see if someone else would stand up asking for the same thing…hoping it would lead for Revolt to continue his life story.  

Revolt chuckles a bit as FOX stumbles through her little speech. He considers her question, and tries to find his answer.

Well ma'am, I tried for a while to live a normal life. Work the 9-5 you know? It just wasn't cutting it for me...I was addicted to the chaos, destruction, bloodshed, and of course the pay. I didn't want to continue risking my life for a cause not of my own, so I looked into other outlets. I had a run-in with a man named BananaBender as he was doing his Mob Boss thing. I realized that it seemed like fun, and I knew that people in the criminal underground had the potential to make big money. I knew what the mafia was all about, it just never really interested me enough to leave me mercenary life. Now that it is over, I decided to give it a try. Bender took me under his wing, and now I can't see myself in any other situation. I get all of my outlets in this life. This is where I should have started...

I have a question,

How did you survive being shot with a hunting rifle in a small, poor town that probably didnt have fantastic medical practitioners? And even if the town did, how did you get to them being the only survivor in a secluded area and having a rifle round in your midsection after spending the energy necessary to climb a wall, go through a long fire fight and kick a door open?

WhereWasI, if you were listening, I said I thought I was going to die, so I was walking to my death in my mind, must have passed out, and I don't remember from there...blacked out, woke up gods only know how long later, on a helicopter, patched up. I can't remember how I survived, but here I am right?

Wait, the revolution had a helicopter but no trained soldiers? Pardon me if I offend you, but the story seems a bit too romantic and sketchy around the important details... Like how they knew you were alive, why they would come after being too afraid to go with you, how a medic found you passed out with a bullet in you in the basement when the house was filled with dead bodies, why a trained guard was unable to stop one man knowing where he was and what guns he had, why the boss hid rather than ran if he expected you to win, and why they left you alone in a room with the traitor with a gun...

What can I say? It was a fucked up situation. Who knows what can happen.

WhereWasI takes a sip of whiskey, turns to Revolt,

I'd offer you some, but I think you may have had a bit too much already.

High on life my friend.

Revolt takes another shot of life.

Martyr raises her glass of wine and looks at all of those listening to the story and smiles.

We all have our own stories our thoughts our reflections on how we came to be. Takes a sip of her wine and gives a grin.

Be it what it is. Thanks Revolt for sharing yours. Shall I venture to say it was a tale worth the time of hearing it.

She lights a smoke as she vanishes into the shadows that fill the alleyways of the streets.

What's this 'helicopter' that you're talking about, I've seen some stuff about it in the papers, but I haven't heard of one big enough to support anyone besides it's pilots.

Aldo takes a swig from his flask and awaits a reply.