When you hate everyone around you, itís hard to get a job. Yeah thatís right; I hate everyone, I really do, Iím a proud pessimist. Or maybe Iím just always in a rivetingly bad moodÖ
Oh, another thing that makes you unable to receive employment; you used to kill people for a living!
Öyeah, you immediately think terrorist, well all of you Ďciviliansí always draw to the worst conclusions and blame the people who save your sorry necks donít you? CTU, ever heard of it? Counter terrorist unit ringing a bell? Yes, counter. This means to oppose terrorists. Not be a terrorist, though according to my employees, I worked with them. This is why Iím looking for work.
How about I tell you that dear little story? Yes, good plan; that is why Iím getting interviewed isnít it? Indeed. Oh yes, the storyÖ
September 11, 2001. Oh yes, that day rings a scathing bell now, doesnít it? I was out and about, with my friend Frank, also a member of the CTU staff was with me. He wore this big snazzy belt of importance, made sure to remind me of this fact every day. Now, at the trading center, someone was receiving threatening terrorist-like letters, and we were to go check it out.
So we did. As loyal staff members, we went to check it out, and we flawlessly strode through the huge doors to the floor designated to us.
Yep, that was at 8:30 in the morning.
The letters were inexistent, I happen to have discovered, and that was fifteen minutes later. Sixty seconds later, there was a BOOM below me, and I realized Frank was gone. 8:46 am.
That Ďworkerí was a liar, a terrorist, and he went ahead and seduced Frank to go down to the place where the plane had impacted! Frank! I staggered at the thought that my friend was dead, no I didnít cheer and try to escape the wreck I created. I ran down and tried to help my panicking piers to safety. Big difference.
I snagged a few panicked folks, afraid but determined, and I saw someone bust a window. One shout of stop wasnít enough, for the smasher managed to leap to his death below.
To this day I remember how I couldíve saved him.
I led the remaining group down a fleet of safe looking stairs (hard to tell what is safe, a huge building just got rammed by a plane; nothing is safe)
The floor was so far away, the safety of the ground. I could only think of dear old Frank, who risked his life unknowingly in this attack, such a hero. I heard the crowd shrieking behind me, mortal yelps of terror and moans at the sight of their dead peers. I wish I had a companion to help me with my situation.
The final floor finally came to view and the people scattered, and I was left standing in the rubble like a mad man, and I saw my coworkers as they all pointed at me.
But there were no relieved looks on their faces. No waves to come over, no beckoning, do you know what me, the hero, received?
Glares. Bitter hateful glare filled to the brim with swelling uttermost hate, and when I strolled over to them, they pointed at me and hollered murderer! MURDERER! And they jumped on me! Me!
I figured out why, I guess. That terrorist was sending letters to the CTU, to get me involved; apparently my name was in there because they wanted to draw the attention from the major attack onto something smaller. Me.
And here I am in prison, going mad, innocent, and a hero with no medal of honor. Do you get the gist of what Iím trying to say here people? Iím innocent, I was set up!
By a terrorist.
And those-those Ďpeersí of mine believed him, and not my own judgment.
But this doesnít matter. The good Lord in Heaven, He knows.
He always knows. And yes, when I get to heaven, I will receive that Medal of Honor I am waiting oh so long for.
-Excerpt from a speech given by Ben Wallace, former CTU agent-
*And yes, yes he did get his Medal of Honor after this.
And his freedom.
But he needs a job.
Know of any places that offer them?*
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