Page 7 of Arianna

Present

Long ago, I learned the most important lesson a man like me could learn.

Real men don’t beg.

They don’t plead for their lives when they are cornered and about to meet their maker. You die as a man with your head held high and your best smile on display.

Real men.

Not these thugs, no.

Child molesters.

Wife beaters.

Sex traffickers.

They are all the same.

The scum of the earth. They commit horrible acts, yet at the end of the line, when they are stuck between life and death, they weep and plead for mercy as if they didn’t deny their victims the same thing they are so desperately begging for.

I loathe scumbags like this motherfucker.

If I am honest, I barely tolerate half of humanity. How ironic it is that I ended up following in my father’s footsteps.

A public server.

A man of the people.

The defendant of the ones that cannot defend themselves in a court of law.

It is quite fitting.

Poetic, almost.

I see myself as the two sides of a coin.

On one side, I am a man with morals. The one you follow blindly when I make empty promises of a better future for the city.

For our country.

For your families.

However, I am also on the other side of the coin.

Immoral.

Deceitful.

Vengeful.

I am the last face you see when my men send you straight to hell, kicking, screaming, and begging for mercy.

Benjamin Banning, my right-hand man, head of my security team, and insufferable prick, likes to joke that I remind him of a dark Robin Hood.

Committing crimes in the name of good.

I call bullshit.

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