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Post by Drozgul on Aug 26, 2010 2:07:38 GMT -5
Romano Di'Orsi
18 years. 18 years with the agency, and they forced my resignation. The very case that earned my early promotion was copy-catted 12 years after and drove me crazy. That's what the file will say anyway. What was the case? That's classified. I'll just say it should still be an open case. I have a bad feeling about it.
Did I give it all up? For a few years sure. Tried to get my family back. But by then they'd already moved on. No room for me. So I opened my own private office. Hey, at least it would be income right? Figured it'd take a little while to get established, but I picked up a case right away. My own.
Turns out she was setting me up. Wanted me to meet a contact and as soon as my guard was down she was on me. Its a weird kinda feeling ya' know? Realizing that you're a victim, but not only being incapable of fighting it, but feeling your mind and body warp into wanting it. I'll never forget that feeling. That's the same one I'll be bringing onto other innocent victims for the rest of eternity.
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Post by Drozgul on Aug 30, 2010 18:23:25 GMT -5
Romano continued
That bitch! I can't believe I was so eager to take a case, that for the first time in almost twenty years I made the rookie mistake of not profiling the person whose case I was handling.
Who the Frag am I kidding? On the night my new life started, I was lucky as he'll to be selected as their new prospect and not as a snack.
I know now how she did it. Just so happens it still pisses me off. For the second time in a few short years I let a woman take everything I had and give it a good flush. At least this time I lost a lot less. You can only take so much from a guy who's already on his knees.
My first few weeks with the curse I finally knew what a junkie's life could be like. I was willing to get my fix anywhere, just because it hurt so damn much not to. And it tastes like silk and liquid silver rushing down past your tongue. You'd kill for a taste like that too, once you've had it.
I waited many nights for the familiar pangs of guilt when I killed. I needed them, to be sure what I did was as wrong as it should be.
They never came, and now I barely know what it ever felt like.
My wife's last wish leaving me came true, all except for the getting buried part. Sometimes I just want to find her and apologize, or drink her dry, or Frag her for spite. They all sound the same anymore, the latter simply requires more effort on my part.
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