I was recruited during my deployment in the Gulf War after being held in a US Military Prison for what some would call 'murder'.
I called it finishing the mission.
That's what I told my CO, that's what I told the officers when I was court martialed, and that's what I tell every other fucker who questions me about it.
I remember the day the recruiters came for me.
They walked into my holding cell, handed me a file that stated I was now considered KIA and told me I would be free to join bigger and better ranks in a new position if I took their offer.
Of course I took it.
I had no family or friends to care for. All I wanted was a gun and to use it. These guys understood that.
I never knew how fast, crazy and down right fun, war could be until I was surrounded by others like myself. Hard-balled sons of bitches who didn't care about collateral.
We ran our combat drills in blood and dirt, tested our aim on death row inmates and perfected our tactics on genetically altered animals.
Those were good times.
The best part was when one of our bunk mates was freaking out during a PTSD trip, so another bunk mate got out of bed and snapped his neck because his screaming was keeping us awake.
Training was, to say that least, one of the most invigorating times of my life.
Then came the New York outbreak of 2009.
Our target Alexander Mercer, some former science geek, was to be put down or captured by any means necessary.
I met him once during my time there. Had me by my throat, lifted up in the air. I emptied an entire magazine from my sidearm into him but he didn't care. The bullets ripped into his face and he remade it like new.
The animals we trained with were like that- stronger than normal and could heal, but he was much, much more.
I don't know what he was going to do to me, I only got away because one of the guys got him in the back with a 40mm grenade, but he looked ready to kill.
I liked that.
He taught me something about myself that I didn't really know until now.
I love the thrill of the hunt and being hunted.
There is no real joy in fighting if the person you're fighting against is just trying to survive.
They have to want to kill you to for it to be exciting.
They have to hate you.
They have to want to see you suffer and bleed.
That is why I am here.
Because I want to fight any and everything that would want to kill me.
I don't care about country, or honor or protecting the weak.
I want to fight because I want the thrill of killing and the adrenaline that comes from when someone tries to kill me.
I want to be in the action, directly on the front lines gunning down those zombie freaks as they try to claw at my face.
I want to be emptying shells into my foe until the gun goes click and then reload and do it again because they are still crawling towards me.
And that is why I am sending in this application to be deployed into New York once again.
I want to aid in the killing or capture of Alexander Mercer and Sgt. James Heller.
A black mask, a black uniform and a black gun .
That is all I am. That is all I will ever be.
That is my job, my purpose, my life.
I love my job.
I love my life.
I am a wardog of Blackwatch... because you actually let me have fun at work.
Signed, Private First Class Kevin West