Author’s Notes: Read Chapter 1 if you haven’t yet. This story involves drugs, alcohol and violence (in mild doses). 


Once again, Mondo had put me in a predicament and left me to fend for myself. 

While he always made it seem like he was around to back me up, relying on him would have been a monumental error in judgment. We were just a couple of poor, smelly farmhands and had the rotten luck of running across a mean group of construction workers who were celebrating a completed job. Mondo had wandered off, schmoozing the way only Mondo could when he was as filthy as we all were, and in the meantime, some shoulders were bumped and drinks spilled, and pretty soon the other farmhands and I had five hulking men looking to rip our heads off. I managed to fight one off, and the rest reconsidered the prospect of fighting.

It turned out that Mondo had been talking to one of the higher ranking members of the Mexican mafia, a retired hitman named Miguel Morales. I don’t know how long Mondo had been in communication with Mr. Morales, but they talked like old friends. While I was cleaning up from the mess our fight had made, Mondo came up and said that Mr. Morales had an offer he wanted to discuss with us. Not knowing at the time who Mr. Morales was or who he worked with, I was eager to listen to any sort of job offer that would get me out of the drudgery and labor of farming. I have looked back on this meeting many times since, and wondered if given a second chance, if I would make the same decision again.

We became Ghosts.

Our identities became fluid and ever changing with every new assignment, with only a handful of important people aware of our purpose and even fewer aware of our true identities. We were used for a variety of reasons; reconnaissance, infiltration, persuasion, sabotage, and elimination.

For the next three years Mondo and I were sent across the country to meet and train with various experts and gurus. Often times after a few months together they would send us to different places to learn, and every time we would reunite it would be as if we had just seen each other yesterday, like no amount of time or space could weaken our friendship. Or so it seemed.