Picasso's War Novels & Stories

His eyes were open, frozen in an expression of surprise, his mouth slightly ajar as if he had been caught mid-breath. I exhaled slowly, kneeling beside him. I had lost men before. I had seen death in every imaginable form. But this? This was a message. A message written in blood. Matteo stood beside me, his stance tense. "Bastardi left their mark," he muttered, pointing to the crude symbol carved into Dante’s forearm. I already knew what it was before I even looked. Picasso. Rage coiled in my gut, tightening like a noose. The Picassos.

The whole unit rushed to him, confused. Tears nearly fell from his eyes, but he held them back-a soldier has no right to cry in uniform. Namal, one of his soldiers, brought out what was inside the bag. The whole unit stared in confusion. It was only a twin doll… and he was shattered. General Puro Picasso ran inside his quarters, pulled off his uniform, wear his normal clothes, and sped off in his car. He screamed uncontrollably as the twin doll filled his head.

– I blurted out with an air of skepticism, almost spitting out the coffee I had just sipped in my mouth. - Relax… we are not going to burn down the lab or anything. Since your project also depends on him now, well, we need to guarantee he's kept alive. - She winked. - Right? - You have to outsmart him. War tactics also include playing the role of the silent, peaceful, lovely enemy, who is always ready for any attack. Preparation is everything, darling. It's half the war won. - Okay? - I must confess that there were times when Susie surprised me, or scared me. And that was one of them, and I just could not decide which was it this time. It could easily be both.