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Date: Sat, 31 Jan 1998 01:05:30 -0500 (EST)
To: jqbackup@stargame.dyn.ml.org
From: Ina-chan 
Subject: [JQ] fic:Blur(1/1)
Cc: jqlist@stgenesis.org

Disclaimer: JQ characters belong to HB. No money made. All for fun.
Category: Uhmmm... I dunno. I think you can consider this as those past
thingies.
Rating: Ok.
Summary: A reflection

Blur
by Ina-chan

        I was nine years old. You might think that's a mighty tender age for
one to realize what one was meant to do in one's life, but its true. There
was no denying it. At age nine, I realized my calling. A turning point
awareness that changed my life... I knew at that moment what I wanted to
do for a living. 
        I wanted to kill people.
        Shocked? Yeah, I get a lot of that. It doesn't really bother me
anyway. I'm not into that morality crap anyway. Well... at least back then.
And if you're thinking I was your
hair-grease-black-leather-jacket-cool-car-rebel-without-a-cause-type of
person as a kid, well... you're dead wrong. I was the typical popular bright
kid next door who's voted most likely to end up in Harvard with a business
suit kind of type. But now you know better, huh? Of course I never said it
out loud to the world. It was the typical "love your country", "defend
democracy" and "justice the American way" song and dance that a lot
of kids in my generation lapped up.
        So at fourteen, I ran away from home, lied about my age, enlisted in
the army. It wasn't really that hard. I looked older than my age and there
was a war going on.  A few months later, I  found myself shipped to 'Nam.
You heard horror stories about war... well they're all true. It is a very
cruel thing. You lose friends... people you consider your family... Despite
all that however, for a soldier, when you're standing in the middle of the
battlefield... somewhat feeling alone despite the presence of your
company... surrounded by the unseen foe in the middle of a thick jungle...
mud and ice cold rain squishing under your boots and clammy against your
skin... nothing beats the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins
as you battle wits, strength and will against an enemy for survival. At
least, that was what it was like for me any way.
         Of course, I joined the war a tad bit too late and we had to return
to the home front before I became and proved myself to be a "seasoned"
fighter. But the big guys upstairs were impressed enough to draft me into
the special squad. Intelligence One.  Of course, you do understand that this
is all the information I am allowed to reveal. If I say any more, I'm going
to have to kill you.
        So I was a spook for a while. It was a very stimulating and maybe
even fun phase of my life. I got to hone my skills. Unlimited travel. Good
benefits. A near death situation or ten. What else could a guy like me ask
for? Everything was going very well until one fateful assignment... when I
met her.
        I know what you're thinking... 'Aw ain't that sweet? Big tough guy
falls for sweet  little damsel.' Sweet? True... she can be that. Little...
if you could physiological body structure... Damsel? [snort] That she ain't
baby, and I still have the scars to prove it!Sure, I had other women
before... mostly pouting creatures with a pair of fluttering eyes... lips...
a little thigh here and there... nice set of---[ahem]. BUT her! Man! She was
different. From the moment she almost blew my head off with that rifle of
hers... I knew that I would kill without hesitation for this woman... in
which I did... but don't tell her that. Despite her strengths, she still
frowns upon the killing aspect of the job description. It was like one of
those whirlwind romance fairy tales. Of course time went by like a blur and
before I knew it I was sitting in my living room with my one-year-old
daughter sitting
on my lap. 
        That was when I hit another turning point.
        One moment we were playing a perpetual game of 'peek-a-boo' then
suddenly the kid looks up at me solemnly and says:
        "Dada."
        Looking down at those big innocent green eyes looking up at me in
adoration made me realize something. I was a 'Dada.' It felt... weird... a
little scary... but... sorta nice. Then suddenly I saw my little Ponchita at
age seven, jumping up and down excitedly for 'bring-your-kids-to-work-day',
asking about what Daddy does for a living and if she could be just like
Daddy. Then I found myself at loss for words. 
        What can I say to my kid when she asks me that question? While other
mommies and daddies drove their cars  to their offices to shuffle papers, I
took a plane to Latin America to assassinate a would-be dictator with a
Swiss Army Spork?
        I guess you can say that I thoroughly agree now, that once you get a
kid of your own, your perspective in life changes. Its funny back then I
vowed that this family jig will never happen to me. I mean... I didn't
exactly have the perfect family role models... But hey! Don't get me wrong.
My mother is probably the best mother a boy can ever ask for. It's just that
she doesn't have a strong coping mechanism when it comes to dealing with
hard core stress. Let's just say that she has a little hideaway world of her
own. The old man didn't really help much with the situation either. He's not
the evil-type Dad too. He was just too much of a dreamer... who never really
woke up to reality. Ended up to chuga-lug an occasional bottle here... the
rest there. Disappearing for days... sometimes weeks... 'till he never came
back... Now that it did, I made an oath that I will be the exact
opposite...   
        But as if the ghosts of my past were mocking me, my personal
situation started to turn sour. I guess with all that was happening, the
only logical thing for me to do was to give in and save the marriage. I
tried. I really tried. But after years of being trained... being encouraged
to do the things that I do... you start to actually like it... enjoy it...
be addicted to it... The life I choose to live was unfair and unsafe for my
wife, and for my
daughter. So in mutual respect and civility, we ended the fairy tale. As
cruel as it may sound, I also agreed that it would be for the best, as well
as for her safety, that I limit my contact with my Ponchita. I really loved
her you know. I love the both of them.     
        It was a very humbling experience to watch the angel of my life, her
face pressed against the window waving goodbye and disappearing into the
distance. I felt very ashamed standing there at that moment. Because I knew
right then and there... I failed my oath... I became my father.
        As that stupid song goes... Life goes on. Of course it's never the
same. You never really notice things around you until the fates decide to
gang up on you and beat you up. Losing my family made me open my eyes and
question a lot of things about myself. About what I do. It really... well it
sucks to find out that you don't like the answers... the TRUTH behind those
questions. My superiors does not exactly tolerate insubordination.
So in 'respect' to my previous outstanding services and with 'sympathetic
consideration' to my psychological and emotional being, they assigned me to
a simple cut and paste job. It was really more of a 'humility' order for
their part. I promised that this was going to be the last one, finish this
seven month contract then I'm out of this rat race. Imagine, a top
agent assigned to baby-sit an overfunded government brainiac and his brat.
        According to the files, an internationally known psycho got wind of
this new project the good doctor was working on. Hired some goons and
managed to his hands on the wife. The one in charge of the rescue operation
bungled, the bad guys panicked, bomb blew up, incinerating everything within
a 3 mile radius... including the hostage and 15 good men. Of course the
damned government is determined that the situation will not
repeat itself. The kid was still a potential target and of course the
administration has protect its assets.  
        Little did I know that once more I will encounter another turning
point in my life.
        My employer was not enthusiastic about the necessity of a bodyguard,
nevertheless he accepted its importance. I assumed the doctor was also aware
of the imposed situation of my assignment. No hard feelings, this is just
business. Everything will be terminated at the all clear. And so I believed
until I met the boy. 
        Little Jonny... only five-years-old and already exhibiting symptoms
of juvenile delinquency. Or so the sixth and last governess informed me upon
my arrival (which was incidentally the same day she resigned without
hesitation.) The kid apparently developed a strong sense of mistrust toward
strangers and was very paranoid with the absence of his father, not that I
blame him. Still, it was a very irritating to realize that I was going to do
doubleshift as a nanny as well because no one could last more than two days
in the job.
        The brat was indeed a challenge. He was very angry. The problem was,
I think he didn't fully really understand why he felt angry. So he's
basically focusing all his anger to a convenient scapegoat... who happened
to be mainly me at the moment. And it isn't easy to protect  a client who
was being overly uncooperative. Since it is impossible to leave the kid
behind during the doctor's travels, we had to bring the little diablo along.
What can I say? It was hell. But as I mentioned earlier... a challenge as well.
        It became almost a game between the two of us. He'll try to get into
any form of trouble, and I figure out a way to stump him before he even
makes the first step. I have to thank my daughter for training me on how a
five year old thinks. Of course it got harder and harder and more creative
along the way. GOD! This kid was persistent! But it would seem that the
whole thing had its benefits. The kid had something to focus his anger on
and it seemed to help him regain an ability he lost along with his mother.
        To trust.
        Needless to say, at the end of the contract, I found myself
resigning from government employment and offering my services to Dr. Benton
Quest. Who would have known that those seven months would become seven years.
        Man! Has it been that long? Seven years... I can't help feeling very
old looking back at my life through those years like that... and beyond. But
its very difficult not to be reflective upon how your perspective in life
can change drastically. How watching the sullen angry four-year-old tot you
helped raise grow up into a confident bright eleven-year-old boy. And how
the process can make you realize that you do have the ability to obtain
beliefs that you never thought you could ever have... like morality... an
appreciation for life... maybe even fatherhood?
        Maybe its about time I stopped hiding my head in the ground. If I
can be a role model for a kid not even remotely related to me, why can't I
do the same for my own? I think my daughter deserves a real relationship
with her father other than letters, birthday cards, the occasional phone
call, and the rare visits. I guess I deserve it too.
        I have to retract that 'calling' I thought I heard when I was only
nine years old. I guess I misheard a bit. I think it was really saying is
'to protect' what I desperately wanted at that age. A family... a real
family... MY family. But if I have to crack a few heads to do that... well
hey! Let's just see anyone out there try to stop me.
	
Author's squawk:
        Ah well... stream of consciousness... love the stuff. Kinda hard to
follow sometime though. Well, I know I'm a self proclaimed W.A.R. person,
but one of strongest weapons a soldier going to battle can have is to know
thy enemy. My limited Classic JQ  and my TRA viewing has left me with not
much stuff on Race's past. Thus you see my over active imagination at work.
As well as my passion for tragic characters. I also wanted to make some form
of connection between the Classic series and the TRA series, which is mainly
Jessie's existence and introduction. Well... I hope you liked my version...
though somewhat incomplete. It's tough to drag explanations through stream
of consciousness and I'm already having a hard time trying to figure out how
a guy would think. I seriously doubt if an actual guy in his 30's
(approximately at this setting) would actually start thinking like that. I
know my dad is becoming more and more reflective lately... sometimes to the
point of preacherly annoyance...
        Anywayz... comments, criticisms, bricks to inachan2@ican.net

Ina-chan


========================================================
Quote for the moment:

"Sim sim salabim, sim sim salabim, ayah tu sin nating!"

	- Hadji (while levitating a Pygmy), Classic JQ,
	   " A Small Matter of Pygmies"
Ina-chan
e-mail: inachan2@ican.net
insanity site: http://www.fortunecity.com/lavendar/psycho/66
ICQ UIN:  3364641

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