The world is cruel

Pilot

His name was Xavier Callahan, or Callahan, Boss, Nuke, even Captain at some point of his career. People used to consider him too young for his field, but his undeniable charm, charisma and sly mouth won everyone over right away. As a young brat Callahan wasn't the finest boy of the neighborhood, but he sure as hell was the wildest. Even though his mother hadn't worked a day with her late husband's fortune, Callahan was not built for the quiet suburban life. He got along with the Gonzales mob from Brooklyn, and it was because they liked him so much that they let him touch a gun for the first time. It was a regular Colt pistol, surprisingly small and lightweight, Callahan was a little disappointed with it. They gave it to him and let him unload a few rounds in their garage, but he couldn't keep the gun unless he went to the city and brought back a bag load of cash. When Callahan thought about it years later, he chuckled at his naive younger self, who had blindly believed that the mob needed compensation for a single handgun, or even as much as for him to rob a store. But he did it anyway, sparing no remorse - he just wanted the gun. Perhaps it was due to his recklessness, his devotion and sincerity, that the mob wanted him. "You American, but you like us", said father Gonzales.

In the shadow world, people often said they'd "seen" things, without going into any more detail. Callahan shook his head, to him it was not a proper thing to say in the shadow world. Because there shouldn't have been those kinds of formalities.

By his early 30's, Callahan had journeyed a long way from when he first got his hands on that Colt pistol in the era of mobsters. He had robbed banks with them, kidnapped kids of CEOs, tortured enemies and killed those that didn't pay up. But back then that was how things were, and no one questioned it. Truth to be told, as a lad he had a hard time getting accepted into the army, but with his potential and manipulation, they wanted him as well. Callahan was promoted Captain at the peak of the century, after which he had a sudden change of heart. Having seen no war during his entire time serving in the military, frankly, he got bored. He saw younger boys being sent off to fight in Iraq and Afghanistan, guns blazing, but he had to stay back and train rookies. But to his delight, one lucky day he was called to the headquarters and informed of a sensitive operation in Damascus. The team had just lost their commander in a clash with Islamic fighters, and the embassy was under fire.

This operation brought Callahan to Damascus, where he was allowed to bring a handful of American grunts to die. Among them was a bright young man called Conrad Fitzgerald, but who had only made it to Second Lieutenant under a strict sergeant. In Damascus, Callahan captured the embassy with ease and no casualties, and if he had gone back home he would have been promoted without a doubt. But Callahan stayed in Damascus, because having won his first firefight gave him a kind of thrill that life in the training facility never could. He was not the only one that thought so, Fitzgerald was also fascinated by the blood and chaos of war, and asked to be permanently posted at the embassy, lucky brass.

Callahan lived in Damascus for 10 months, working petty office jobs that he could scavenge. He saw Fitzgerald every now and then, but they didn't have the kind of connection as they used to when they still served as brothers in arms, but that was only natural. They would get together at a roadside cafe and talk about the operation that acquainted them. Fitzgerald told him that the peace talks were going well, and that was what bothered him, because he, also, was bored. The Islamic State had retreated to bigger war zones in Yemen and Iraq, that's where the big guns went.

And about the big guns - Fitzgerald's eyes lit up when he used this word. He said that anyone could buy a bunch of guns and sell them there, anyone. It was a paradise out there, for business of course, not for the fighters, they dropped dead one after another. "I ought'a leave this pillbox and see it myself", he said while handing the merchant a tip. Fitzgerald had started to remind Callahan of the mob in Brooklyn, vile and vulgar, he was not an ordinary soldier at all. He reached out his hand to Callahan and suggested they both travel to the border, if not to cross but to at least see the fireworks. Callahan would not have said yes under normal circumstances, but he didn't want Fitzgerald to get ahead of him. If there really were guns, he had to get them first.