Prologue:
My name is Martinez. Well, not really, Martinez is just an alias I use to camouflaged my true identity. Martinez, is Latin for Mars. The Greeks called Mars the god of war and fertility. The god of war, I like how that sounds, it seems like an appropriate name for me. I have waited forty years to bestow my malice upon Kevin Spencer for the treachery he bestowed upon me. Kevin was a soldier in the elite eight six Airborne platoon during the D- day invasion. Though I didn’t personally kill Kevin, I did sanction his brutal murder. Rather than wallowing in sorrow and despair, I was animated and jovial as I watched my old friend die.
The last time I saw Kevin Spencer alive was aboard his boat named the Gipper. The boat laid anchor off the coast of Seaside, Oregon as a harsh wind blew down from the North. It was a dark, moonless night as I cast my green eyes upon my old friend’s lifeless body strewn across the deck.
An unsympathetic and callous look crossed my scorched face as savored my victory. Life slowly drained from his hazel colored eyes as the Reaper desperately waited to snare Kevin's soul.
Kevin struggled desperately to stay alive till the last bullet from a Walter PP pistol pierced his flesh. I could see the torment and anguish in Kevin’s eyes as he gasped his final breath.
A sinister smile stretched across my face as the cold hand of the Reaper finally captured Kevin’s soul.
The end of Kevin’s miserable life was the beginning of my plan for revenge. Kevin was the first prawn in my game of revenge against the soldiers of the eight six Airborne platoon. Soon Kevin’s old friends will meet his same fate; Death!
I am cloaked in a feeling of righteousness as I eagerly await to kill another one of Kevin’s old friends from his platoon. I usually feel impervious to any form of happiness. My dark and lonely days are usually saturated with misery and despair till I finally saw the light of revenge. To help me fulfill my quest for revenge, I solicited the help of a former enemy, now my best friend, Robert Dubinsky. Robert contrived a new name for himself; Albert Kandinsky. Albert, or Al as I like to call him, has been my friend since we first met in Sainte Mère Église, France on June 6, 1944. During the D-day invasion, I forged a new alliance with my friend Al and together we vowed to reap retribution upon Kevin Spencer and his former brothers in arms for their treachery.
Albert resembled a savage barbarian with cold, dark and menacing eyes that were black as coal. His face was stern, apathetic and forbidding. His arms and thighs appeared to have been chiseled from solid stone. His pronounced German noise and high cheekbone were scared by a deep slash and burns. A large tattoo of a red dragon fighting with an angel in hell was depicted on Albert’s back. The tattoo symbolized Albert’s whole life. Albert was always fighting, struggling and constantly torn between good and evil. As the years wore on, the border between good and evil slowly became blurred and ultimately vanished in Mr. Kandinsky’s soul. The resentment, anguish and rage that festered in Albert’s heart made him exactly person I needed to fulfill my plans for revenge.