Fiction Friday Week 31

Good Friday morning!

How’s it going? I’ve had a quiet, relatively good week.  I’ve gotten things done, despite being sick.  I’ve gotten on the elliptical and done my yoga four days out of five this week.  

Monday was a day of rest, a total donada day.  I’d spent the weekend helping The Boyfriend clean the cottage.  We moved everything out that was unnecessary to us, (and really stinky); he vacuumed and washed the walls and floors.  I packed up the dishes and cutlery we’ll never use – which means I packed up about 90% of them.  The landlady hoards dishes, I swear it.  It makes sense, given that it’s a rental in the summer and sleeps 7 or 8, but man oh man, there are a LOT of dishes.  *laughs*

I scrubbed the cupboards inside and out, the counter tops, and washed the dishes that were left – 6 of everything, because that’s all we need.  

And I did all that work while getting sick.  So it was understandable that I made the decision to do squat on Monday.  It was quite the debate with myself but I managed to choose to look after me.  And then The Boyfriend backed it up with the donada order.  

(For those of late to my blog unfamiliar with the ‘donada’ thing, I’ll explain.  I have several chronic illnesses – fibromyalgia and multiple chemical sensitivities just to name two – that sometimes overwhelm me and on those days I am to do nothing, nada, zilch, zero.  It usually came across as an order, just like that.  It got shortened to ‘do nada today’ then to ‘a donada day’.)

This week I have been working on Carlos, Ted’s best friend.  It’s taken some doing because I’m not familiar with the Mexican culture and Carlos is my “Mexican super assassin dwarf with an eye patch”, as per Wolfman’s stipulation.

It took some doing.  The Secretaria de la Defensa Nacional is not exactly a font of information.  I finally decided to wing it since I’m not actually having him perform any operations.  So, Carlos is in black ops so deep they don’t have an official name.  They are known in some circles as los lobos locos.  There are reasons why but they’re not important.

Since I have stuff to do – chores and whatnot – I shall leave you here.  

Say hello to my little friend!  Oh, wait, Tony was Cuban, not Hispanic. 😉

Have a fabulous Friday!  

Muah!

 

Carlos Montalban

 

Age: 42

Nationality:  Mexican, born and bred

Occupation:  Government assassin, working for a deep, dark part of SEDENA (Secretaria de la Defense Nacional) military intelligence. 

Appearance:  Carlos has Achondroplasia, a form of dwarfism that means he is nearly perfectly formed, but smaller than the average human height.  At 4’4” he is the smallest military man anywhere on the planet.  He has a large head typical of the gene disorder, shorted forearms and upper thighs.  He is slightly bow-legged.  Carlos is an attractive man with chocolate brown eyes, black hair and a medium tan colour to his skin.  Strong jaw, thick eyebrows and lips that are almost too thin.  He has no discernable marks save for a tattoo of a wolf’s head, done in the swirling light and shadow of the Mexican tribal style.

He wears an eyepatch to hide the bionic eye he was fitted with at the age of 23; most often the patch is a match for the colour of his skin.  He is fit, dresses most often like an American cowboy, goes unnoticed by the world at large, unless he wishes to be seen. 

 

 

Carlos ended up in the military because he kept getting caught with guns as a child.  And if he wasn’t getting caught shooting stuff up, he was found getting into locked buildings and stealing stuff.  He could get in without a problem – never tripped an alarm, never made a sound.  However, he had problems getting back out sometimes. 

He was an orphan, living on the streets, abandoned at the age of 8 when his parents tired of dealing with the special issues raising a dwarf caused. 

When he was caught trying to leave a building he’d broken into for the fifteenth time by the time he was 12, the judge decided Carlos needed a more focused education.  He let him stew in a holding cell – one the judge had emptied so that Carlos would be in no real danger.  However, Carlos could be seen by, and hear, inmates in other cells.  The night was terrifying, even for a boy with such bravado and ego as Carlos.  He was taken down a few pegs that night and reduced to a scared little boy.

The following morning, the judge had Carlos called to his chambers.  The boy was fed, cleaned and dressed and brought into the room.  He ran to the judge’s desk, eyes filled with tears, and begged the judge never to send him back.   “Please, please!  I will never do anything wrong again.”

The judge watched him for a long moment then looked to the man standing in the shadows.  “What do you think?  Will he do?”

Carlos screamed in surprise and whirled around.  He scrambled around the edge of the desk away from the other man.

“Aside from the fact that he didn’t notice me, yes, he’ll do.  I think he’ll work out very nicely; his instincts can be honed, refined.”  The man crouched down and crooked a finger.  “Come here, Carlos.”

After looking at the judge and getting a brief nod, Carlos approached the man.  He stopped just out of reach, making the man smile.  “What do you want of me, Mister?  I refuse to have sex with you.  You can’t make me.”  Carlos crossed his arms across his chest and glowered.

The man stifled a laugh and gave the boy a very thoughtful look.  “Has someone tried?”  He frowned when the boy nodded.  “What did you do?”

“I took the man’s knife and stabbed him in the leg.”

“It takes a lot of bravery and strength to be able to stick someone with a knife, even to save your own skin.  How did it make you feel?”

Carlos shifted from foot to foot and stared at the silver and turquoise clasp of the man’s bolo tie.  “I was scared.  But I was determined to get away.  I felt sick when the knife went into him. I knew that he would kill me if he got his hands on me so I pushed the knife all the way in.  I ran away as soon as the knife stopped moving.”  He met the man’s eyes.  “I never looked back and I would do it again.” His voice was fierce.

The man nodded.  “Good.”  He held out his hand.  “My name is Francisco Montalban.  I would like to give you a home.  My friend here,” he gestures at the judge, “says that you have no last name.  No family.   How would you like to have my name, be a part of my family?  You’d have a bed, food, clothes, an education.”

Carlos’s eyes lit up but he gave Francisco a suspicious look.  “What do I have to do in return?”

“You have to stay within the letter of the law.  Study.  Train.  I will turn you into the world’s greatest spy, if you let me.”   When Carlos grinned broadly at the thought Francisco patted him gently, carefully, on the shoulder then stood.  “My wife is waiting outside, Carlos, she would very much like to meet you.  Her name is Carlita.  I will sign some papers my friend, Juan, has and we will become a family.”

“Can I see the papers when you are done?”

Francisco smiled, pleased.  “Absolutely.  We will not call it final until you approve them, alright?”

“Yes Sir,” Carlos said.  He ran for the door.  As he opened it he turned.  “Thank you both, very much.”

Francisco, as Carlos learned later, waited until the boy had left the room before pulling papers out of the inner pocket of his jacket.  “His parents were found.  They were persuaded to give up their rights to the boy.”

“How much did it cost you?” Juan asked.

“Only about three thousand pesos.”  He dropped the papers on the desk.  “They were wise in taking the money.”

“Indeed.”  Juan pointed to all the signature spots in the adoption papers then made copies of them.  He handed Francisco the originals.  “Good luck.”

Francisco smiled before he opened the door.  “I do not need luck, my friend.  I now have wolf cub in my corner.”

From that moment on, Carlos was devoted to Francisco and Carlita.  He was equally grateful for his new home and terrified he’d do something to lose it, or that they would throw him out as his birth parents did. 

Francisco did indeed train him.  He taught Carlos how to trust his instincts, how to improve those instincts.  He taught Carlos weapons, technology and people.  Carlos went to post-secondary school in the U.S. and earned a doctorate in neurobiology – the study of the anatomy, physiology and diseases of the brain and nervous system.

When he was 18 and conscripted into the army, Francisco’s influences put Carlos in the infantry and, eventually, officer’s school.  Carlos’s proficiency with weapons earned him a spot as a sniper.  SEDENA, Mexico’s central intelligence agency, and the place Francisco worked, recruited Carlos. 

Finally, Francisco had Carlos where he wanted him all along.  Carlos was put into the deep black ops program.  It was so deep that it didn’t have a name.  It had a motto:

              Somos los lobos en su puerta en la oscuridad de la luna.

We are the wolf at your door in the dark of the moon.

SEDENA is much like the CIA. And, like the CIA, they do their part in controlling world military endeavours and politics. 

Carlos met Ted when he and Ted were chasing the same pair of drug lords.  One cartel was Mexican and the other American.  The cartel heads had teamed up to expand their businesses in each country.  They’d gotten big, too big, and it was upsetting the balance of drugs and peace in both countries.  Ted was sent to hunt the two men leading these cartels and bring them to justice.  Carlos was sent to kill them.

In the end, after a long hunt and huge battle that killed dozens, Ted and Carlos killed the men.  That the second-in-commands were killed too was a coincidence. 

The SOG man and the black wolf became fast friends.

 

 

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