He writes. Sometimes on his iPhone on planes…
Blessings were not sought.
Action necessitated reciprocative action. Simple physics.
Fanton knew his place in this equation. He was a blunt force instrument of revenge tasked with delivering pain and misery and worse unto those who had transgressed.
His methods were his own and unique, singular in their ferocity. For Fanton knew well the resulting tumult when aggressive invasion of space and domain were left unmet by adequate resistance.
He had lost it all, everything. Everyone. Although young at the time, he could have responded. Fought and died for what and who he loved. But he didn’t. No one did.
Slavery was the price paid of this. Years of slavery.
But that was long ago.
Now, he responds without authorization, without blessings from those positioned to grant such. He moves like feral tiger, like razor blade tornado. He grants no quarter, reserves no effort. His enforcement of this code of violent reciprocity is without consideration of life or suffering or familial lineage. He ends lineage by wiping out, erasing a generation so that none will remain, none will remember. Only myth arises from these brief epochs of cleansing.
Only a man and myth and legend familiar with this generational eradication can envision and endeavor to deliver such punishment.
Fanton knows this punishment.
iPhone Notes Story
ORD – TUL 03.14.14