How to begin? I haven’t done this before so I won’t claim to know what I’m doing. I gave up on trying to find an alphanumeric keyboard out here, or whatever they’re called. The qwerty thing. So instead I’m dictating this into whatever phonetic blocks are being projected to you.
Anyway. How to begin? How does anything begin? For the first time or starting anew. Some are good at either. Maybe one more than the other; something Shakespeare once said about thrusting. Or neither, I suppose. And I suppose the latter are no longer a part of the gene pool.
Maybe I should start with why I am here. The stories are as implied by the title. I am a mercenary across multiple galaxies. I am from Earth, originally. How long ago, I do not know. I haven’t been in any one solar system long enough for a reference of time. Not to mention, I haven’t been sober for enough of it to have a cogent timeline. And let me tell you, there are a lot more ways of getting messed up than you’d imagine.
But I digress. This is as much a vainglorious effort on my own behalf as it is a long standing effort to put my thumb in the, um, eye best describes the organ in reference, of some royal a-hole who thought he could cross me and get away with it. I don’t care how many galaxies you own, the universe is mine as far as I’m concerned.
To clarify some things, Earth is a very isolated planet in the universe…universes. Whichever. I can never keep it straight. It depends on where and when you are and some other things as to how many there are. Don’t ask me to explain it. The answer for the aforementioned is quite simple really. We’re known as “those guys.” The ones the popular kids walk by with the raised upper lip in disgust hoping they’re not contagious to those that know our insignificant little planet exists at all. It’s like asking a random person if they know what particular culture of bacteria exists in the underarms of dead raccoon on the side of the road. You’d be met with a simple “Huh” and they’d go about their day with little surprise or care. For the most part this works out for me being, as far as I can tell, the only human out here dicking around with things I have no right dicking around with. Take that as you will. There’s no wrong answers.
Being the primitive apes humans are, of which I reject being a part of, you’re probably wondering how some guy from Earth speaking English was able to get around the damn universe and communicate with endless other sentient life forms. Notice I withhold the phrase intelligent life forms and the word god. The god thing is a conversation your feeble brainminds are not ready for. I whisper this part as to not upset the fabric of this reality. The other answer is rather convenient. Most life forms, most, communicate telepathically on the whole. Not through a hole. There are some nuances in body gestures slash noises, and just as much debate on the origination of life being coincident with what allows the telecommunication, but I digress again.
Don’t worry too much about my name. I use a different one on every job. But for practicality reasons you can call me Ole Vince. If the transcription cooperates it should read as an anagram for violence. And every story needs an explainer character. By now you likely have you own image in mind of what I look like. If you’re picturing Jason Statham, close enough.
You probably won’t believe me, but if you are receiving this I assure you it is real. And I apologize in advance for whatever happens in your life after waking up to this reality.
I’m not really sorry. Welcome to the asteroid fields, motherfucker!