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"Hooyah!"
Hooyah haunted him as if it was something he had said a thousand times before. Based on his dog tag, he was in the Navy. Based on his fighting skills, his ability to hide and to become invisible, and based on his fighting skills, maybe he was an ex-Navy Seal. He wasn't sure. He didn't know. He couldn't remember.
Too much of an insurance liability for any employer to hire him, with him a shell of the dangerous man he once was, he only had one arm, his right arm, one leg, his right leg, and one eye, his right eye. Unable to hear out of his left ear, judging by the scar that ran down the left side of his face from his forehead to his jaw, something horrific happened to him only he didn't know what. He couldn't remember. He had a hard time remembering yesterday. All he knew was what was stamped on his dog tag, his name, social security number followed by USN, blood type, and his religious preference. If he didn't have that piece of thin aluminum, he wouldn't even know his name.
To be continued...
*****
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- COMMENTS
McMahonSabout 8 years agoThis product of your imagination is disturbingly insightful as to the way the establishment ignores those tasked with effecting its covert operations when things go wrong. I will await your conclusion with interest. Good fortune with your future writing and, in spite of the abundance of repetion it contains, a good editor could, I predict, help you to commercial success. (...and I would have been proud to be your Daddy!)
