Disney League of Exploited Pirates

Disney League of Exploited Pirates

The tavern was loud and smelly. Dozens of sailors bellowed for rum or gambled their money away. But there was a back room for those who craved privacy, past a door planted in the sagging wall. In this room sat Captain Hook, his scarlet coat muddy and in tatters, a brilliant red hat hung in shreds on a hook in the wall. Hook glanced at his first mate, a chubby, short-sighted fellow named Mr. Smee. Smee glanced at his captain's stained brass hook, tapping on the table.

The door swung open and in walked a man with a friendly smile beaming upon his countenance. In one hand he held a tray loaded with steaming food, the other hand held a crutch to support his one leg. The man hopped into the room, laid out the food and touched the brim of his hat in salute. "Good evenin' to e' Mr. Hook. My name be Long John Silver." Hook groaned. "Can't ye shut the door man? I have a splitting headache." John Silver set out the silverware. "I told ye I'd recruit some swabs to join us. They will be coming soon."

In moments another pirate strode in and slammed the door shut. Silver beamed all over again, radiating conviviality. "This be my friend Wing Ti'p. He don't speak English very well but he be with us." Wing Ti'p was an Asian, swarthy and suntanned from years in the China sea. He flaunted a jaunty headband and fine blue coat, but looked downcast. Silver began carving a roast goose. "There be but one more to come, be kind to him mates, he be obscure but his heart be true."

The door squealled open again, admitting hot rum-infused air and a sturdy dutchman. The dutchman dragged a wooden chair across the room and leaned over the table. "I presume you are the grieved parties that I was asked to meet here. My name is Captain Hoseason. I am not a pirate captain properly speaking, but I wish to have justice, and if I must break the law to get it so be it."  Long John Silver snagged a seat at the now crowded table. "Alright men, we are all assembled, so I hearbye call to order the first Captain's council of Exploited Pirates."

Captain Hook twirled his mustache with his hook. "I demand to speak first." There were tears gathering in his eyes. "I have suffered most. It's that flying fiend Peter Pan and his Lost boys that are the cause of me woes. I have been beaten to shreds by those airborne brats. My crew was helpless. In the film "Hook" directed by Steven Spielberg, my men were defeated by paint guns and a very fat boy." Hook rose to his feet, voice shaking with intensity. "For most of the film I was left to try to make Peter's son abandon him. I killed one boy at the end of the film, just one, and Peter promptly outfought me and sealed me in that crocodile. Why couldn't I pull a pistol on that name-calling wretch? It isn't fair." Hook sank into his chair sobbing. "It isn't fair at all."

Silver and the other pirates looked grave. Wing Ti'p stood. "In Disney movie "Swiss Family Robinson" we were plenty beat by wimpy Robinson Family and the boy. My men attacked rocky hill and got plenty beat. We walked right into pits, got scratched by tiger, shot by ridiculous crossbow device, walked on collapsing bridge, hit on head by plastic logs and blown up by coconut bomb. So many things go perfectly for Robinson family. We happen to walk right on traps, happen to be spotted by boy on zebra, happen to be trapped by admiral's ship that come by just in time. It no fair. Movie director not give us a chance."

Long John Silver let that sink in for a moment before nodding to Captain Hoseason. The Dutchman stood and took a drink of wine. "I lost my brig, my crew and my first mate in the Disney film "Kidnapped". Hook barged in. "You are no pirate. What ships have you sunk? Who have you killed? You aren't even a privateer." Hoseason put down his wine. "I kidnapped a boy, I schemed to murder a passenger for 30 guineas and kept a first mate who was a drunk. I will not beg for help, and I was only in one film, but I stand for fair, unbiased treatment of pirates. I do not mean that pirates should win, but they deserve better than to be used as canon fodder.

Long John Silver stood last, shining his confident grin. "Gentlemen, capn's all. I have not been wronged like the rest of ye. I lost my crew and the ship I commandeered, but in true pirate style I turned the tables and went on to star in a sequel and a television series. I be what every pirate should have a chance to be, a pirate with style, with intelligence." Long John pulled out a rum-stained paper covered in handwriting. "Here be the charter for the League of Exploited Pirates. If ye cannot write sign with an x. Together we will fight for equality for all villains of the sea."

Hook, Wing Ti'p, Hoseason and Silver huddled together, writing their names in ink and hashing out the perticulars of the article. Behind them the door swung open. A man in a brown jacket slipped in, followed by a older fellow with grey sideburns. As the pirate captains turned the man touched the battered tricorner hat perched atop his dreadlocks and backed out the door. "Sorry." Said Captain Jack Sparrow. "Wrong room". 

I hope you enjoyed reading this article. I will try to post more often in the future, which due to current developments seems more likely. Please take a moment and tell me what you thought of it.

The Invisible World

The Invisible World

"Base, this is the Constellation, we are experiencing some unexpected gravitational pull." Captain John Connors wished that he could wipe away the sweat that was trickling down the visor of his spacesuit. His spaceship, the Constellation, was just outside of orbit with Saturn, performing a search of the moon Cletus for water. The grainy reply of the base on earth came through. "It is probably just Titan, you are drifting close to it's gravity field. Compensate your course." Captain Connors glanced back at his fellow astronauts, Teak and Alice. "O.K. base, compensating course."

The gravitational pull grew stronger and stronger. Connors activated booster rockets, but not on full, he needed to conserve fuel. Alice spoke on the personal communication channel. "Captain, this gravity field is almost exactly like reentry. If we weren't clearly thirty thousand miles from the nearest moon I would say there was a planet right in front of us." Connors nodded, even though no one could see it from inside his helmet. "Base, we are having trouble breaking away from the field, booster rockets on full, please advise." Static filled the channel. Connors threw some switches, trying to filter out the interference. "Base, come in base. I say again base, please respond." Static. Suddenly Captain John Connors felt very small, a tiny actor against the vast backdrop of space who had forgotten his lines.

The Constellation shook and began pitching down, despite the booster rockets. The three astronauts gasped as, where moments before there had been only a splendid view of Saturn's rings, the surface of a planet, blue with water and green with life, suddenly appeared before them. Connors cut the booster rockets and angled the ship to give him some control. Teak began rattling off the landing sequence checklist. Connors scanned his instruments, looking for a good place to put down. As the Constellation flew in decaying orbit within the atmosphere he considered a wavy purple forest, or a small desert framed by crescent-shaped mountains. Alarms began beeping. A indicator showed that the outside of the ship was flaming hot from reentry, in a few minutes the ship would disintegrate like a shooting star. "Teak, put us down over on that continent, if we can hit it." Connors sat rigid in his seat, unable to do more. Calling for base again and again over the static-choked channel. Parachutes flared out of the Constellation, slowing it to a few hundred miles per hour. The wheels extended, Teak pulled back gently on the stick and the spaceship gently demolished a giant mushroom farm.

Connors, Alice and Teak stepped out of the airlock, dropping slowly to the ground. John Connors didn't think of anything historic to say, he just bent down and ran his hands through the light, pinkish soil. Teak broke in on his profound thoughts. "We have company John."
The alien farmer was staggering towards them. He stood ten feet tall and hopped slowly on a single leg. Three eyes stared out of his blue, filmy, stunned face. Connors held out his hand slowly. The alien hopped forward and looked carefully at it. The strange person from space seemed to be offering him something, but he could not see it. He politely pretended to take something from Connors palm. The alien farmer was relieved, at least these person's were not hostile. His mouth curved downwards in a smile. Teak bounded up in the less-than-Earth gravity and grabbed the alien's hand, shook it, and let it go.

Everyone turned as dozens of three-legged pods bounded into sight and towards them. The pods formed in a circle around the Constellation. Forty tall aliens in black suits bounded out of them and rushed towards the ship, slipping on inter-species communicators and flashing badges with their slender hands. The chief alien approached the farmer. "Mr. Vitzala. I must ask you to forget everything that just happened to you. A Rumosta demolished your mushroom crop." He handed the farmer nine gleaming silver stones. "Fortunately the government is more than compensating you for your loss." The farmer nodded and began hopping away backwards. Teak waved at him. The alien waved back and hopped out of sight. The chief turned back to the astronauts. "You will be taken care off. Your ship will be repaired and readied for launch back to your world. You will be blindfolded and you must forget ever finding this planet." The Connors tried to protest but the black-suited aliens forced him into one of the pods and he was to a isolated facility hidden deep in a waving purple forest.

Four months later Alice, Connors and Teak found themselves four thousand miles from Earth, traveling aboard the repaired Constellation. The communication channel conveniently cleared and the control station came through. "Hey Constellation. Nice to see you back. That solar storm really messed up our comm's." Teak broke in. "Base, you will not believe what's happened out here. . ." A stern voice cut him off. "Teak, save it for the debriefing." Teak sat back in shock. Connors spoke. "We are beginning our approach for reentry, base. Please advise."

The landing went smoothly, without incident. The astronauts were hurried from the spaceship by black-suited men and debriefed separately. Connors was ushered into a lavish room bedecked with ribbons and left alone. Through a window he saw a massive crowd by a stage, waiting for the return of the heroes from space. A clean shaven man in a black suit and dark sunglasses stepped into the room. "Captain Connors. I must warn you not to speak to anyone about what happened to you in space." Connors bristled. "I am tired of people telling me what not to do. What are you going to do to stop me, huh? I'm a hero to these people. You gonna kill me? Or hide me away in some bunker?" The man in black shook his head and chuckled softly. "No John. We are not going to hurt you or threaten you. But nobody will believe you. What will you achieve? At most an official inquiry that we can effortlessly misdirect. Sure, it might make your biography sell better." John paced to the window and looked out. His wife and little boy were standing in the front row, beaming, waiting to see him. He turned back to the man. "But somebody has to tell the truth, even if nobody will believe." The man smiled, threw an arm over John's shoulder and led him to the door. "The world is not ready for this truth John. Go have your moment of triumph, see your family. Collect your generous retirement bonus and spend quality time with your son. Make memories on this planet." John Connors put his hand on the doorknob and sighed. "Alright, I won't go encouraging the conspiracy theorists. But I will never forget what really happened out there."

A cheer roared to life as the astronaut ran onto the stage and into his family's arms. The man in black headed for the back room where the spacesuits were being decontaminated. To anyone else it seemed he was frowning and upset, but inside he was smiling.





I hope you all enjoyed this short story. Please feel free to comment and tell me what you think.

Ten Favorite Screen Characters Tag

Sarah at http://howtowatchamotionpicture.blogspot.com/2015/05/10-favorite-screen-characters.html has tagged me to make a list of 10 of my favorite screen characters.

Instructions: For this quick, fun blog hop, you just name your 10 favorite characters from movies or TV, then tag 10 friends (if you can) to do the same!
This is such a fun tag to do. I hope you have fun with it also. Here are my ten most off-the-top-of-my-head favorite screen characters. P.S. I will try to avoid copying anyone else's picks.

"I come with glad tidings, of a world made free."

Loki is a wonderfully funny and well-played villain. He is one of my favorites and is hard to get down, always smiling and joking even as he plots world domination and treachery. It could almost be argued that he is an antihero, except he is so evil in his own happy way.

"Get Off my plane."

John Marshal, the heroic president of the United States in Air Force One, played by Harrison Ford. Marshal is a guy you would want by your side in a firefight. At once a loving family man and determined fighter, he never rests until the ones he loves are safe and the terrorists are brought to justice. Would our current president act so selflessly? John Marshal is a character worthy of emulation and has some great movie lines.

"There are a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep em' all away from you, that's never possible."

Atticus Finch, the lawyer in To Kill A Mockingbird. (Played by Gregory Peck.) Is a inspiring man who stands up for what is right but is never a stuffy prude about it. He is a solid citizen who loves his children and does all he can as defendant of Tom Robinson, a unjustly accused negro. Faced with a prejudiced jury, murderous southerners and the villainous Mr. Yule, Finch faces certain defeat but never turns back and wins his childrens respect.

"We both know I have to kill you now. You'll just have to imagine the fire."

Bane is another of my favorite villains. Every one of the baddies in the Dark Knight trilogy bring something special to the screen. Ra's Al'Ghul. (Am I spelling that right?) is the one who taught Batman, who gave him a path and lifted him from darkness. He had the calmness of a man completely dedicated to his cause. The Joker is a completely insane madman with real personality and lines, along with his own catchphrase. But ultimately I chose Bane, a brutal terrorist who can not only outsmart but outfight Batman and delivers some of the most memorable, deadpan quotes of any movie villain.

"Guys, I told you, call me Sully."

James T Sullivan is the lovable furry protagonist from Monsters Inc. He is an average joe who is the top scarer at the company. He meets, is terrified by and eventually charmed by the human child, Boo.
Sully is a friendly fluffball who has it all, a great job, admiration from his peers and his best friend, wisecracking Mike Wazowski. But he risks it all to rescue his human friend from his boss Waternoose and the sneaking reptilian Randal.

"No, I am your father."

Darth Vader is one of the most classic villains of all time. The powerful lord of the Sith, with his menacing black suit, helmet and cape he brings terrifying presence to every scene. His stern voice pronounces the will of his emperor as his red lightsaber cuts down all who oppose him. Few can match Vader, who wields the dark side of the Force. In the end he is redeemed and sacrifices his life to save his son. Star Wars would not have been the classic it is without Darth Vader.

"The price of freedom is high, always has been. But it's a price I'm willing to pay."

Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, is my favorite Avenger, barely beating Thor. He was once a skinny kid from Brooklyn who was enhanced to the height of physical perfection. Now he fights injustice as the shield-throwing paragon of freedom. Steve has a firm moral code which he always adheres to, always doing what he sees is right. So this brave, noble, handsome and strong hero easily claims a place on my list.

"If one isn't willing to pay the price one shouldn't play the game."

There is not and probably will never be as great a detective as Sherlock Holmes. I really enjoy the modern incarnation as played by Benedict Cumberbatch. But my favorite is the Holmes of Basil Rathbone. Who can top that penetrating gaze, that snapping delivery, that energy? Sherlock seems to have been made for mysteries. He is bored to death with the life of average people, but give him a case, a puzzle or a crime and he does not rest until it is solved. But though his intellect is razor sharp he is not an emotionless robot. Holmes has few friends but to those he has he is understanding and fair. If something unexplainable has happened, the man to call is Sherlock Holmes.

 "Always remember, your focus determines your reality." 

Qui-Gon Jinn is a jedi knight who is a very rich, likeable character. Behind the lightsaber he is a stalwart friend, a wise warrior and a teacher. Qui-Gon is very practical, doing his best to get his friends out of danger. Throughout his adventures he always has a plan, but never controls or commands others, but rather persuades them, sometimes with the Force when necessary. Although he is cautious and prudent Qui-Gon has his own ideas, sometimes even defying the jedi council to support his gut feeling. When push comes to shove Qui-Gon Jinn is the man you want by your side.

"Hammond, after some consideration, I've decided, not to endorse your park." 

And finally, there is a noble model of the scientist-adventurer in Doctor Alan Grant. I wanted to put Indiana Jones here but decided it not to. Doctor Grant is a archaeologist who fights for survival against dinosaurs while he's not digging them up. When most people run for their lives, (and are quickly eaten.) Grant is the one who stays behind to help those who need help, using his knowledge of dinosaurs to stay one step ahead of the vicious reptiles. He is not just a survivor but a leader, taking care of everyone. When people all around him are losing their heads Grant stays calm. 

Well. That is my top ten favorite screen characters. I regret that it took so long to finish and my list is far from perfect, but I hope you enjoy it.

I cannot tag anyone right now because I just want to get this done and I don't know enough people to tag ten of them. I may tag someone later.

Power of the Digital Pen

The Power of the Digital Pen

How much can you write in a year? I decided to find out. This is how I arrived at my conclusion. For 

those who are not mathematically minded just skip to the bottom.

There are 365 days in a year. I subtracted 65 days (36.5%) for holidays, sick days etc.

I worked out a average typing speed of 25 words per minute and subtracted 25% for thought and 

word corrections. That leaves 18.75 word per minute.

If you typed for four hours every day you would get 1,200 hours of work done in a year. 

18.75 word per minute times 60 =1,125 words per hour. Bear with me.

1,200 hours per year times words per hour 1,125 =1,250,000 words typed in a year. But I didn't stop there.

My softcover edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, first book in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, is 8" tall and 5" long. I roughly estimated that there are 12.6 words per line in my book and 37.75 lines in an average page. There are 378 pages in my book not counting covers and introduction. Those pages all together are 1.5" thick. 

So 12.6 words per line times 37.75 lines per page equals the words per page, so 12.6 (37.75) =475.65 words per page. 

Next lets take our words per year and see how many pages we can type. 1,350,000 divides into 475.65 to equal 2838.221381 pages per year. And 2838.221381 divided by 378 pages that comprise the Fellowship of the Ring equals 7.508522172 or about seven and a half volumes every year (7.5) 

The thickness of the book, 1.5" times number of volumes, 7.5 equals 11.25" of writing. Given books 8" high and 5"wide one could turn out nearly a foot of books every year.

If one wrote poetry one could probably get even more.

That is 8" times 5" times 11.25" =450^3 cubic inches of literature.

As always I enjoy your comments so please tell me what you think. And thanks to my mother for the typing speed average.

1800 Union Jack

This is it, the long in coming alternate reality Avengers. I hope you enjoy it and as always I 

appreciate all comments. I am thinking of making a separate page for Marvel and DC one-

shots.


The dockside tavern was not a pleasant place. Unwashed sailors hobbled and staggered across the
floor, stepping in piles of leftovers from the tables. Two one-legged sailors at the bar turned to stare
at the stranger as he entered. His overcoat, fresh from the tailor and a beaverskin top hat marked him
as a gentleman, someone of importance, perhaps a captain hiring hands.

The gentleman scanned the dimly lit room for a moment and walked to the bar, boots thudding on the rotting boards. He leaned over the bar and called to the barkeeper. "Wine." Then he turned to look at the man beside him. The man was a strapping figure, finely tuned muscles bulging from under a faded blue jacket. His face was cleanshaven and two piercing blue eyes gleamed from under a tricorner hat. He noticed the gentleman's gaze and extended his hand. "I am captain Steven Rogers, what can I do for you?" The gentleman showed a soft smile. "I am Philip, an employee of a organization which desires your services. Steven frowned. He was not used to flowery words. "What king do you serve?" Philip drank his wine and glanced searchingly around the tavern. "We serve no king, but are nominally under George the third, king of England." Steve swallowed a draft of ale. "The king does not want the services of a Yankee privateer. If it was known I was here in England I am sure that redcoats would be swarming this place." He smiled a little. "You didn't bring any redcoats did you?" Philip looked Steve straight in the eye. "You are a great patriot captain Rogers. You carried out several daring smuggling runs to bring vital supplies to the colonies during their struggle for independance. We need a man who believes in freedom."

Steve furrowed his brow in thought. He took another swallow of the potent ale. He had already had three mugs of the potent brew, enough to make a grown man staggering drunk, but it didn't seem to affect him. Finally he spoke. "Who are your employers? I like to know who I am working for." Philip nodded. "We call ourselves Aegis. Imagine a large company, like the East India Trading Company, dedicated to stopping enemies who threaten the peace of the entire world. We will pay you well and you can walk away at any time, there is no contract to sign." Steve straightened and held out his hand. Philip gripped it and shook it warmly, but the smile on his face was fixed. "Don't look around. There is a man dressed in black on the stairs, he is very dangerous. We need to leave now, slowly."
Captain Rogers turned, slid a silver piece to the tavern keeper and strode purposefully towards the door. He detected a sound above the belching of sailors, the sound of the man in black flying through the air. Steve ducked. His assailant went over his back and crashed into a table, spraying ale everywhere. As he staggered to his feet Steve got a better look at him. A hood covered his face. His shirt was emblazoned with a white skull and crossbones. He was obviously in top physical condition. The man in black lunged at Steve, his fist flicked out and hit the captain. Steve crashed into a wooden post and threw a return punch with practiced ease. His foe evaded the blow with equal skill and rained punches on Steve, who protected his face with his arms. Philip called out in his quiet voice. "Crossbones, but your hands over your head and surrender." The man in black turned and saw Philip holding a double-barreled pistol at his head.

Crossbones leaped behind a post. The pistol discharged a moment later, clipping the post and spraying wood chips over the staring spectators. Crossbones leaped over a table and through the door of the tavern, Philip's second shot whistling past his ear. Steve grabbed a shield from the bar where he had left it. It was a simple round affair, made of metal with leather handles.
Steve slipped it on his arm and exited the tavern. As his eyes adjusted to the dark dock he saw Crossbones and two sailors aiming at him with blunderbusses, nasty close range guns loaded with metal fragments. Steve threw himself into a crouch with his shield covering him. A storm of shrapnel hissed towards him and bounced off of the shield. Philip dove back into the tavern as the sailors grabbed muskets from the ground and cocked them. Steve saw the new threat and stayed down. Crossbones aimed at the doorway where Philip had gone and signaled his men. The sailors began circling around behind Steve. Philip knew that Crossbones would shoot him if he showed himself, but he had to help Steve, he braced himself and cocked his backup pistol.

From the roof of the tavern a wild figure leaped into space and blasted one of Crossbones men in midair with a pistol. The figure hit the ground running and knocked out the other goon with one punch. As Crossbones aimed at this unexpected threat captain Rogers stood and threw his shield. The whirling arc of metal broke Crossbones musket in half. The villain turned and sprinted down a quay towards a waiting boat. Steve started after him but a cry brought him to a halt. Redcoats, british soldiers dressed in red uniforms, streamed onto the dockside and aimed their muskets at Steve. The figure who had rescued him stepped forward. In the dim lamplight Steve saw that it was a man dressed in pantaloons, boots and a thick jerkin. He also wore a cape emblazoned with a double cross. The man stepped forwards, his rugged face breaking into a smile as he adressed the soldiers. "Hey boys, uncock those muskets, you are letting that villain Crossbones get away." Aparently the soldiers knew this man. They slowly uncocked thier pieces and hurried along the quay after Crossbones receding ship. The man held out his hand to Steve, who warmly shook it. "You must be Cap'n Rogers, the Yankee privateer. It's a good thing mister Coulson had me stand by as backup." Philip stepped forwards. "Well done agent." He turned to Rogers. "This is Jack. He is quite a hero in England. He is working with Aegis for a while as security detail." Steve attached his shield to his back by a leather cord. "So when do I start work?" Coulson gestured towards a sloop moored to the quay where blinking lanterns winked. "My men are loading your ship with provisions. We can sail with the morning tide."

Cops and Robbers

Cops and Robbers

This is a short story that I wrote up over a couple of days. I will try to write my Marvel fanfic story soon. Please comment below. I enjoy your input.

"All right gentlemen, listen up." Roared the police Sergeant. "We have four targets." He activated a projector mounted on his jeep, throwing the image of a dirty mugshot onto the arena wall. Michael glanced around at the towering concrete walls that boxed them into a large gravel yard. His Sergeant barked at him. "Mike, I am trying to keep you alive out there and you are taking in the scene? Don't blame me if you are roadkill in ten minutes." He crunched over to the mugshot. "This is Madison. He is a small-time thief from Miami with a specialty in convenience stores. He has used handguns but didn't resist arrest." He pressed a remote and the mugshot changed. "This is Samuel. Don't let those spectacles fool you, he is a serial killer with three victims to his name. Likes shotguns and knives." Mike's mind was racing. Would Samuel have a shotgun? It would cost a few thousand bucks to get one into the arena. Sam probably would not be able to afford it, unless he had some high-ranking Syndicate friends.

The Sergeant changed the image again. "Say hello to Weaver." The four police officers smiled despite the tension. Weaver had a hard face. Dirt was plastered over his bald head. "Getaway driver is his bit. We ran him to ground in a Nevada corn field. He knows where his gang's stuff is hidden, so he may get some help." The projector gave a final click. Billy, Mike's partner, sucked in his breath sharply. The mugshot showed a malignant face. Wide, rolling eyes leered above a purple mohawk. The Sergeant frowned. "This is Crazy Eyes Harry. He is a hardcore gangster from Detroit. This rat escaped the Justice Arena two years ago after stabbing one officer and shooting another. He is a mascot of the Syndicate and very popular with the wierdo's. Watch yourself."

The projector darkened. The Sergeant stepped forward and shook the hand of each officer. He stopped at the team leader, Officer Jasper. "You be careful our there kid. Watch Samuel and Harry. Din't forget, every crook you capture means $20,000 for our department and everyone gets time off. But If they get to the Endzone they go free, with all their crimes pardoned. And always remember that you take care of your men, that is what is most important.
Michael stretched and began pacing back and forth as the Sergeant gave some final advice. "Don't freeze up. Our Department is counting on you bringing these men to justice. There are no rules in the Justice Arena. If one of those goons looks at you wrong you shoot him. Watch your back and protect your buddies." The steel door at the end of the yard slammed open, scattering rust chips. Mike sprinted forward and burst out into the Justice Arena.

Before him stretched a two-mile long expanse of city blocks. But it was a lifeless city. The buildings were made of prefabricated brick walls and empty window spaces. But Michael had no time to take in the sight. He glanced at the blue square directly before him. There lay the equipment that the force had bought for his squad, it wasn't much. Four batons, a bulletproof vest and two service revolvers lay cluttered around an old and battered police cruiser.
Mike looked up. Three hundred yards away the four criminals stood by a battered van, their orange prison suits in sharp contrast with the drab brick walls. All but one of them piled into the van. Mike sighed. A few days ago two officers had been shot as they tried to grab their equipment by a kid with a hunting rifle. All four cops had been killed eventually. The crooks had sauntered across the endzone like royalty. That wasn't going to happen this time.

Jasper dashed to the police cruiser and started the engine. "Michael, get a revolver." He yelled. "Billy and Ahmed. Grab the nightsticks and pile in the back." Mike wanted to protest, he wanted Billy to have the revolver. But he was disciplined, the Academy had taught him that much. They told every student about the 32nd match of the Justice Arena, where two police  officers shot each other in an argument over equipment. Ever since that day insubordination had been called a "32."
Mike buckled into his seat and checked the revolver chamber. Those cheapos at the Department hadn't even given him six rounds, only five. And bullets only cost $5 each. Jasper stepped on the gas. The engine groaned, misfired and sputtered to life. The cruiser closed in on the criminal who had been abandoned by the van. Mike saw that it was Madison. He stood dumbly in the road like a deer caught in headlights. Jasper barely slowed down. "Ahmed, hop out and take care of him." Ahmed nodded and opened the door. He was really well-built african dude, we all liked him. Madison barely twitched as Ahmed ran up to him, nightstick poised, he appeared to be unarmed. My partner stopped short. "You do realize you will be executed if we capture you, man, right."? Madison hung his head, his knees were shaking uncontrollably. "I got nothing man. Just do it quick will ya?" Ahmed hit him on the side of the neck expertly, an instant knockout. Madison crumpled to the ground.
We sped onwards after the van. Our cruiser was an old '87 model, barely running. The van was getting farther and farther away. Billy pointed ahead. "Mike, one of those jailbirds piled out of the van by that alley. I'm goin' after him." Jasper looked back at us through the steel grating. "No, Mike goes." Mike frowned. "Jasper, just because I have a gun..." Jasper cut him off. "Are you committing a 32 Mike?" Mike cocked his gun. "No sir."

Michael leaped out and dashed headlong into the alley. The cruiser's backfiring motor faded away and a strange silence descended. He trotted over the asphalt, his own heavy breathing pounding in his ears. Mike turned a corner and stopped cold. Not five yards away Samuel was trapped in a dead end. Mike stepped forward slowly. "Put your hands on your head and kneel." Samuel started babbling. "I can't, I can't. Please let me go. I just want to live." Mike took another step forward, revolver raised. He looked into Sam's eyes, frightened rabbit's eyes darting about behind fragile spectacles. He saw the sweat trickling down his neck. Samuel noticed his glance. "Please, I just want to live, like you. What did they say I did? They are lying. I never hurt anybody. Will you let me go? I just want to live." For a moment Mike felt torn. Then he saw Samuel looking at something beyond him. He risked a quick look. Thirty feet up hovered a television drone, its camera capturing every moment of this scene. His friends in the force, millions of people glued to their virtual television sets, and his wife, she wouldn't let the kids watch this televised murder, but she would be there. Worrying about him.
Then Michael felt anger, a deep fury welling up inside him. They were playing with him. None of this was real. These criminals had already been caught, they were guilty. But just because the rich kids wanted to make a buck, just because everyone in this cash-soaked, hyper-capitalist world wanted a real cops-and-robbers show, he was here in a fake city, risking his life and his family's happiness. Pointing a gun at a unarmed man in glasses.

Michael gritted his teeth. He was torn between anger at his manipulators and a reluctance to kill. Samuel moved towards him, shaking and weeping. Something about this set alarm bells ringing in Mike's mind. He gripped his gun tighter. "Stand back. Get down on the ground." Samuel kept coming, less than a yard away now. One hand raised to ward off a blow. Mike saw the other hand slide behind his back. He aimed at Samuel's heart and fired.Samuel twisted around and slammed into the asphalt. Michael saw the butcher knife that he had hidden behind him, tied to his belt. Another second and that helpless little man would have killed him. Michael sank to his knees. He wanted to hide somewhere, away from the camera drone, from the world and from himself. The sound of a automatic weapon spraying bullets came to him. He forced himself to move, rose to his feet. His legs stopped shaking. Perhaps this was just a cruel game. But his squad was in danger and they needed him.

Michael emerged onto the street. It seemed like he had been in that alley for days, but it had been barely sixty seconds. Ahmed was dragging the unconscious Madison back to the blue zone. Three hundred yards ahead the police cruiser was piled into the van. Mike jogged towards the wreck.
 Beside the police cruiser he found Jasper kneeling beside Billy. His partner had been shot in the chest. Jasper was trying to stop the blood from flowing out. "It was Crazy Harry, Mike. That psycho has a assault rifle and a belt of hand grenades. He waited around a turn and shot Billy as came around. My gun is empty. Weaver is high tailing it for the endzone." Michael saw him from the street, a small figure receding into the distance. "Samuel is dead." Jasper nodded. "Well that is good news. Mike. I need you to go after Harry." Mike turned red. "No sir. I can't. I just about let Samuel kill me. I'll stay with Billy, he's my partn . . ." Jasper spoke through gritted teeth. "Don't do this to me. I am your superior. A chief's first duty is to him men. You think I don't want to hunt Harry down? I must stay here and keep Billy alive until the round ends and medical help arrives. Take my bulletproof vest. Find Harry and kill him. I will send Ahmed after Weaver once he gets back." Mike wordlessly buckled on the vest. Jasper caught his sleeve as he turned away. "Mike. I'm counting on you. Be careful out there." Michael nodded and entered the alley beside the van.

Even though it was midday in the Arena a forbidding gloom hung over this garbage bin-riddled place, shaded by the brick non-buildings. Mike walked forward, gun drawn. From every shadow and window Crazy Harry's insane eyes seemed to leer out at him. He felt his legs start to shake again and forced himself to keep moving. A garbage bin lid creaked behind him and he spun around. Nothing was there. Then he heard a chuckle of laughter further down the alley. Harry was not running for the endzone. He was going to hide and kill cops.

Michael stopped, he detected a whirring sound. He turned slowly and saw the camera drone filming him. It was giving away his position. If it had not been strictly against the rules he would have shot it down. A small object sailed through the air and clanked against the wall beside him. It was a steel ball covered in serrated fragments. It was a grenade. Mike hurled himself away and rolled behind a garbage bin. An explosion shattered the brick around him. Dozens of red-hot splinters zinged through the air, bouncing off the metal bin. Mike was shaken but not hurt.
He rose to his feet and ran through the cloud of brick dust. On the other side he found that the alley turned a corner. Slowly he turned the corner and found that the alley ended against the fifty-foot concrete wall that surrounded the arena. His ears, still ringing from the explosion, did not hear the quiet tread of sneakers as Harry moved towards him. He turned to retrace his steps just as another grenade rolled towards him. There was nowhere to run. Mike ran forward, grabbed the grenade and threw it through a window. Brick dust billowed out and filled the alley. Mike vaulted through a ground-level window into a hollow house. He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The brick dust parched his throat. His vision was blurry. If he did not get water soon he would faint.

Michael staggered through the house and out another window. His feet struck something that clanked and he looked down. Two grenade pins. Harry had been here. Mike reeled and leaned against the wall. He rallied his strength and headed down the alley. He turned a corner and saw, out of the corner of his eye, a sneaker-clad foot go around a bend in the street. Michael raced down the street and around the corner with reckless speed, determined not to let his tormentor get away. Just in time to see the sneakers disappear again. He came around another corner and saw Crazy Harry dart behind the next corner before he could get off a shot.

Mike pulled up short, his tired mind racing. Harry was not fleeing from him, he was leading him somewhere where Mike would be helpless. Then another grenade rolled around the corner. If Mike had kept running it would have been right behind his legs. He leapt into another window space as an explosion filled the alley. Mike's legs were wobbling again, but from fatigue. He forced them to obey him, to carry him across the building and out another window. He got to his feet and saw his target slip across a street and into another alley. Mike took several ragged breaths and entered the alley.Harry was waiting at the end of the alley, his assault rifle aimed at Officer Jasper.

 Instinctively Mike raised his gun. Harry moved behind Jasper, denying Mike a shot at his cranial vault. Jasper stood very still. "Mike, listen. There are only three ways this ends. One is Harry leaves with me as hostage and gets away, and I won't let that happen. Second is Harry shoots me and you kill him. Third is Harry shoots you and I kill him." Mike's hand shook, his gun wobbling off aim despite all his training. "How is Billy?" Jasper swallowed. "He's dead." Behind him Crazy Harry cackled with glee. "You dumb cops, we should be hunting you down instead of the other way around. Some day its gonna be like that, buncha cops dumped in the Arena and we get to hunt 'em. My bosses are gonna give us real good stuff. Machine guns, rocket launchers. You wanna know why you always lose? You suckers always stick together, while guys like me? We look out for number one and got nothin' to lose."

Jasper gritted his teeth as Harry twisted his arm behind his back and began dragging him away. "Mike, you know what you have to do." Mike shook his head, his voice cracked in his dust-dry throat. "No sir, don't do this." His commanding officer walked backwards slowly. "You have a family Mike, you have kids who depend on you. Now do your duty." Jasper turned like a snake and belted Harry over the head, the same moment as rifle fired five bullets into his chest. As Jasper fell backwards Mike fired, he hit Harry in the arm. As the criminal spun around he shot him in the back. Harry fell down dead. Mike kept firing until all five bullets were gone. Then he threw down his gun and knelt by his officer. There would be no last words. Officer Jasper was dead.

Police Officer Michael Waller sat silently in the medical helicopter beside the bodies of two criminals and two policemen. Weaver had been caught and would be executed along with Madison. Michael gazed out impassively at the sprawling metropolis of New Washington, the paramedic handed him headphones, yelling over the engine that it was a call for him. He put on the set and the world went silent. Then he heard a voice, the voice of his wife. "Mike, are you all right?" Tears rolled down his cheeks. "Sherry, I'm here." He coughed and took a sip of water. "Don't worry baby. I'm coming home. I love you so much."

At the Federal Networking Association's main offices on Court street A leering leech named Keelman leaned back in his chair, dictating a memo for his secretary. "Michael has the right qualities for a Arena officer. Savagery, skill and pent-up emotion. We will find a way to retain him for mid- to high level events. Begin researching friends and family connections." He smiled like a tiger baring its fangs. "He may need some persuading."

So you want my job: Imperial Stormtrooper

How is the food?

We are issued the standard imperial ration of dried bantha, vitamin wafers and spiced dewback for desert. It gets pretty boring pretty fast. Officers get special rations and sometimes we can buy local food if we're posted planetside...but that's against regulations.
What are your hours?
Every tour lasts 360 solar rotations. We spend ten hours on duty and fourteen in the barracks on average. If we are deployed on a mission we may be in uniform for days at a time. Sometimes we just sit in our barracks, playing hologames or training in simulations.

Do you get time off?

If we are deployed on a habitable planet we can get one-rotation passes. Its great to take a break from the heavy uniforms and explore, though imperial insurance doesn't cover injuries sustained during leave.

What will you do if the Empire falls?

That's a very hard question. Our leaders say it's never going to fall, gonna go on for ten thousand years like the Republic. But things aren't looking to good. I wouldn't want to go back to selling vaporators and generators. If the Empire did fall I would try and liberate as many credits as I could and buy me a nice bunch of planet somewhere. Perhaps have a private sailbarge. Try racing speeders. But I'll probably end up as a mercenary or security guard. The Hutt cartel always needs somebody to keep the locals in line.

Why are Stormtroopers inaccurate?

Don't get me wrong, the E-11 blaster carbine is a reliable weapon, but its very hard to aim and the sights could be better. Our regulation helmets are hard to see out of because of the double-thick lenses. Also, we are trained to fire from the hip at close range. Military tactics say the AT-ST's will get everything at long range so we don't have to be that accurate. But the E-11 also uses low-grade Tibanna gas as ammunition. This stuff will burn right through a wookie, but it tends to fire to the left or right if your blaster regulator is badly set, we get a lot of bad regulators. It is also hard to hit moving targets that are not in formation. Lastly, some stormtroopers are badly out of shape and in combat suffer from "shaky hand."

What are the advancement opportunities in your career?

There are not many ways to move up. Sometimes you can become a technician. The best place is imperial servitor. This is like a non-commisoned officer. They wear black half helmets and follow the officers around, waiting for orders. They also get powerful blaster pistols that are much more accurate than the average blaster. But if you want to rise above that you have to go to the Imperial Officer training Academy and study for 800 solar rotations, then pass an exam.

Are you happy with your job?

Not really. It is not my dream military employment. There is lots of days when you sit around the barracks, stardreaming about the places you will go and the things you'll do. There are always rumors, lots of rumors. Like "We are being rotated to Naboo. The Empire is giving all the troops a credit bonus. The rebels are going to attack us soon." The pay is nothing great, 3000 credits for a tour of duty. I'd rather be a bounty hunter. I hear you can make a real fortune that way.

Is your armor effective against laser fire?

Our full-body armor gives full protection against all primitive kinetic weapons, from arrows and clubs to firearms. It can also withstand low-power blaster shots. Commercially sold blasters are usually pretty useless against it. But the rebels and terrorists we have been fighting not only build their own military-grade weapons, but modify hunting blasters and steal our E-11's. Our carbine's can blast through any amount of personal armor, not that the rebels use any. I would say that our standard stormtrooper armor is very good against aliens and primitive technology, but a heavy enough laser charge will burn a hole straight through it.

Why do you have helmets you can't see out of?

It's largely a matter of protection. It is essential to give full protection to a trooper's head. The regulation helmet has double-thick hyperglass lenses. The helmet is very thick to withstand low-power blasters and is completely sealed against chemical and nerve-gas weapons, which the cowardly rebellion is sure to use against us very soon. But these features do make it a little difficult to see clearly. The hyperglass lenses are curved, which gives everything a 'magnified' look. But for all it's flaws our helmets provide excellent protection, temporary survival in space and are a essential piece of our personal armor. In my mind the effectiveness of the design far outweighs any defects. (But I wish I could wear one of those scout trooper helmets.)

How are working conditions?

The conditions vary according to where you are deployed. I'll never forget being stuck in a baking hot outpost on Tattoine, that was about when the first Death Star blew up. I was sweating like crazy in my armor. Ever ride a Dewback? Its the only thing in the desert sweatier than you, we didn't really get saddles, so it was hour after hour of lurching across the desert, trying to keep from losing the rations you ate that morning with one hand and blasting at sand people with the other. It was not fun. But then we got transferred. (Something about the rate of desertion being too high.) Our next spot was Cloud City. The life forms were unfriendly. Once the rebellion starts their propaganda thing everybody suddenly seems oppressed whenever we are around to preserve law and order. But we still had a good time. Our officer didn't want to give us passes. He walks in and says. "We are orbiting the planet Bespin, so I can't give you planetside passes." Then Torch, (he's my bunkmate, been with me since Hoth,) speaks up. "With all due respect sir, if we got any closer to this planets surface we'd be squished by the gas pressure. I'm sure you could give us 'almost planetside passes'." Everybody laughed. Our officer was a nice sort, not the average stuffy officer type. We got our passes and everybody had a good time.

Are you friendly with other imperial troops?

It is difficult to make friends in this job. There is a very military attitude in the Empire's troops. There is very strict discipline observed. But everybody in my squad knows each other. We all know we'll be there for each other if we ever get in a tight spot. My best mates are Torch and Mashi Sar, veterans of many deployments. Other than my squadmates I don't have friends in the forces. The officers are too stuck up, the enlisted men are too busy and the droids are too dumb.

Why do you work this job?

I signed up for the adventure, for the credits and the glory. I got boredom, minimum pay and big risks. At least I volunteered, the guys who got drafted can't quit for another 800 solar cycles. I've done four tours. Tattooine, Hoth, Endor and Bespin. After this tour I think I'll retire. Its just not a fun job. The Empire just lost their second, not-so-secret superweapon, so they are making budget cuts. That means less pay for the troopers. I think I'll catch a freighter back to Coruscant and look for some mercenary jobs. They pay good for veteran Imperial soldiers. You ask why I work this job? Right now I'm asking myself the same thing.

Why don't stormtroopers ever reload their blasters?

One of the advantages of the  E-11 over the old DC-17's is the new gas injector. One cartridge of Tibanna gas gives 40 shots of low-power blasts or 10 shots of overload blasts. And if a trooper did reload you probably just didn't see it. We are trained to reload very quickly. Also, the new E-12 used in the battle of Endor can fire twice as many shots from one cartridge, though this reduces accuracy and the overload feature is disabled.

Why didn't you use camouflage on Endor?

I was not actually present for the battle, but I've read all the reports and talked to veterans. Unfortunately, the Empire's tacticians had decided that camouflage in obsolete and too expensive in view of the recent budget cuts, after the first Death Star went south due to a malfunction with its megalaser. The scout troopers deployed there were equipped with stealth field belts which i'm sure you've seen in action. But you must understand that imperial troops are not cowardly rebels. We are the most elite troops, (and due to budget cuts the only ground troops.) We do not normally ambush and hide. We storm in and cut down any resistance without mercy. We stand tall and take pride in defending the Empire from rebels, terrorists and anyone who defies law and order. Sorry, I got carried away. I've been watching too many Imperial propaganda films. I hear that we are reconsidering using camouflage in our planetside operations.

Do you have a personal life?

I don't have time for one right now. And if I did I wouldn't share it with you. Once my Bespin tour ends I'm gonna start making some real credits. If I work hard I'll be able to retire in a few years to my little piece of paradise planet. With my sail barge, my fancy house and my own valley of otherworldly wilderness. Check up on me in a few years and I'll sell you the rights to my autobiography. Its gonna be a best seller.