Editing Frank Wright: Backstory

The gold band spun once more before rattling onto the wooden table. "Another year gone by. Miss you." Frank whispered as he slipped the ring back on. Another year grieving; it was a little better this time. He was alive and she'd want him to stay that way. Despite what he might want. 

"Back to work." The H&K MP5SD slid together quietly; just the right amount of CLP, just the right amount of hard use and diligent care. He worked the action five times before smiling and setting "Maggie" beside "Guido", the bolt action love of Frank's life. The MP5 was good stuff, but Frank hadn't been fast and furious even when he was younger. He had managed to go from teenage wannabe to aging has been in the blink of an eye. 


Until the German tourist was bitten in half by something out of the Fiend Folio. That was a day to quit having nightmares over. Hopefully soon. Frank still remembered the two GSG 9 super dudes going down but was little fuzzy on how the MP5SD wound up in his grip and how he managed to get between the whatever the heck that thing was and everyone else. His new life motto came to him then: "If I knew what I was doing, what would I do?" 

Whatever the thing was didn't like humans; that was certain. It didn't do well with disciplined 9mm bursts in joint sensitive areas and down it's severe morning breath gullet either. The GSG 9 dudes had a dozen mags between then and Frank emptied every single one into the creature before it quit flopping and killing. Frank hadn't cared for the hour and a half adrenaline induced puking nor the full body shakes, either. 

He had returned the MP5, helped the wounded as much as he could, and then slipped out screaming with everyone else. Eighteen hours later he was in the airport and ready to fly back to the life he really didn't have; then some British bloke sat beside him. 

"Heard there was a bit of a false scare up and Hohenschwangau yesterday! News says a couple of local pranksters really chased off the tourists." The man leaned forward. "Of course, some people doubt that. They might even critique your shooting skills; mate. You were lucky that was just a baby."

The man stood and looked Frank in the eye. "Go home. Think about it. Get drunk. Someone will invite you to tea the day after tomorrow. If you'd like to keep saving innocent lives, listen to what they have to say."

Or was the guy Australian? Frank could never discern the accents well. Of course, he hadn't been Frank then, either. His hands had shook the entire time he sipped tea with the woman. She had known his old life was buried beacuse of a drunk driver. She had known he was scared out of his mind and she seemed to have known he would say 'yes'.



He and Guido could forcefully communicate "I don't like you" at a thousand meters on an average day. Guido was good that way. Yet Frank loved the MP5 too. After three grueling months of training with agencies that didn't exist, Frank and three others shook hands with the Director; a person that didn't exist. 

"Mein Herr?" An unnamed woman had said as everyone drifted away. She held out a small suitcase. "For you. If you choose an assignment in my country, you would be welcome."

Frank had nodded. He wasn't ready to admit that having female recruiters for older guys was a good idea, but it was a good idea. The worn MP5SD was a good sign-on bonus. The photograph of grateful wife and baby son sealed the deal. Frank needed to learn German.