Craig Gaydas's Blog

So I decided to do something a little different and post  a chapter from my work in progress, The Last Hero. Hope you enjoy!

May 1st, 2015

The poorly lit tavern reeked of cigarette smoke and old sweat. At one end of the bar an old man had been arguing with the bartender for the better part of an hour. One minute he was ranting about the city’s undisciplined youth and the next he was arguing about the corporate elite sucking all the money from the people. It was enough to drive someone mad, but luckily for him the bartender seemed to own an iron constitution. In a dark corner of the room a couple sat at a corner table, heads bowed, seemingly more interested in their drinks than each other. She sipped on a light beer while he stirred his martini with his finger. Besides them there had been only one other person in the place. The lone stranger at the opposite end of the bar cradled his drink as if he were about to make love to it. He bowed his head while both hands cupped the glass in a lover’s embrace. The hood of his sweatshirt hung loosely around his face like a cowl. No one in the bar, with the exception of the bartender occasionally checking up on him, paid any real attention to him. That had been fine for him. He loved the solitude which was the primary reason for frequenting the place. It certainly wasn’t for the liquor, which was overpriced and watered down.

The old man ceased his arguing long enough to run to the bathroom. The bartender used this welcomed break to wander over and check on the hooded stranger.

“How ya doing buddy?” He smiled and motioned toward the glass. “Do you need me to fill her up?”

The stranger swallowed what was left and nodded. He slammed it down on the bar and slid it toward the bartender. “Don’t bother putting any ice in it,” he growled. “This crap doesn’t need any more water.”

The barkeep nodded slightly and his smile wavered. He measured the stranger, eyeballing him to see if he had a bit too much liquor in him. The last thing he needed was a violent drunk. Eventually he decided the stranger was okay at the moment and departed to fill up his glass. When he returned he slid the glass gingerly across the bar. The stranger looked up and pulled the hood back. Dark brown hair, greasy with sweat, fell lifelessly across his forehead. He flicked it away from his dark, hollow eyes and grunted. He had the look of a man who had just crawled from a ten year bender in a darkened wine cellar. Salt and pepper beard stubble landscaped the lower half of his face where tiny specks of his last meal could be found.

Junkie. That was the bartender’s first reaction. However, when the stranger lifted the glass to his lips a sense of familiarity came over him. When the stranger put the glass down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled the bartender took a step back. He recognized him.

“Holy cow, it can’t be!” he exclaimed with eyes as wide as saucers. “It’s you!”

The stranger’s smile faded and his eyes closed. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He reached into his pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes and a plastic lighter molded into the shape of a firetruck. He shoved the cigarette in his mouth and lit it before quickly shoving it back into his pocket.

“And who might I be?” he muttered.

The bartender nervously cleared his throat. “Hey listen I meant no trouble by my outburst. I just thought….I mean…people said you were dead.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” the stranger responded dryly.

The bartender relaxed slightly and chuckled. “Yeah right.” He removed a rag from his back pocket and wiped the bar down, pretending his curiosity had waned. The stranger eyed him warily, apparently seeing through the ruse. The bartender shrugged and decided to press the matter. “Your name’s Bryan, right?”

Bryan took a long drag on the cigarette and let the smoke drift slowly between his teeth. “Yep.”

“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to get excited like that,” the bartender explained. “It’s just not often we get your kind around here.” He flipped a thumb over his shoulder, toward the old man who had returned from the bathroom and was about to down a shot of Crown Royal. “We usually just get the dregs like him in here.”

“My kind?” Bryan looked up slowly from his glass and placed the cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The bartender offered a nervous smile in an effort to diffuse the tension. “Celebrities of course.”

Bryan’s sarcastic chuckle echoed throughout the bar. The old man glanced at them with mild curiosity. The couple in the corner didn’t even look up from their drinks. Inside the nearly empty tavern, the laugh sounded like a goose choking.

“Celebrities?” Bryan rasped. “Sure man, whatever floats your boat. Just keep the drinks coming and don’t get all gushy on me. I don’t do autographs.”

The bartender held up his hands. “No, no, nothing like that! Sorry to bother you. How about this? The drink is on the house and we’ll call it even, okay?”

Bryan pointed his finger and cocked his thumb like a gun. “Now you’re talking!” He offered the bartender a broad smile.

The bartender nearly tripped over himself to get back to the old guy. Apparently arguing about the city’s past was better than dealing with a washed up, alcoholic has-been. Bryan didn’t blame the guy, he would probably do the same if roles had been reversed. He picked up his glass and started to drink but stopped when the news popped up on the television which hung over the “Town Tap” sign behind the bar. A masked figure, adorned from head to toe in black body armor with various gadgets attached to a belt around his waist, dragged two handcuffed Hispanic teenagers across the ground toward a fleet of police cars. The police trained their guns on the two teens while the masked figure adjusted a nylon tube attached to his wrist which extended toward a pack on his back. The scene cut away to a reporter who stood about a block away from the action.

“As you can see the hostage scene could have taken a deadly turn had it not been for the heroic intervention of Oracle. According to one eyewitness the police had failed to open a dialogue with the hostage takers who threatened to murder a woman and her unborn baby. Our sources tell us that the two men who took her hostage were former members of the street gang ‘The Raging 86’s’ and the woman had been an ex-girlfriend of one of the leaders who sources say left him when he wouldn’t abandon his criminal lifestyle.”

Oracle stood over the gang bangers who squirmed at the feet of waiting police while onlookers, crowded behind bright yellow police tape with adoration in their eyes, screamed his name. Their faces, flushed with excitement looked upon their hero through bulging eyes as if he were the second coming of Jesus Christ. Oracle was the tenth person to emerge from the Hero Factory and anointed as protector of Crystal City. A hero only served a four year term before passing on to the next. That safety protocol had been put into place when the Hero Factory was created back in 1981. Brady Simmonelli, the Chairman of the Hero Factory, considered it the prime safety protocol. “Power corrupts and we aim to prevent corruption,” he had been quoted as saying when the organization had been founded. Bryan will never forget those words.

“Power corrupts indeed,” Bryan muttered to himself as he watched the action unfold on the television screen.

Since 1981, heroes have been extremely successful year after year when it came to protecting the city. Crime had fallen by seventy-five percent. In 1990 (during the term of Twilight Shadow) a police force had been established within city limits for the first time since 1976. The gangs had been all but eliminated. The Hero Factory had been considered universally a success, with the exception of 2014. Since the Hero Factory had been established no government official came into harm’s way. Every year, officials and their families had been kept under the watchful eye of the heroes and every year they had remained safe. Except 2014. That was the year someone bombed City Hall. Thirty-Five people had been killed including the Mayor, the Police Chief and seven out of ten city council members. That year was a blemish in the history of the city.

Bryan drained the glass and placed it on the bar. He remembered the event as if it had happened yesterday. The hero on duty that year failed and had been kicked out of the Hero Program shortly after. It was the biggest embarrassment suffered by the organization since its inception. Simmonelli was furious and the Hero Factory nearly shut its doors permanently that day.

Bryan threw a wad of cash on the bar and chuckled. A false tip. That’s all it took to throw the hero off. Everyone of importance should have known it was phony. The tip placed the hero on the other side of town that day, dangerously far from City Hall. “Gang activity!” He bellowed with laughter. The bartender and the old guy looked over nervously, as if he would crack and shoot up the place at any minute. Gang activity indeed. The gangs hadn’t had any organized activity in years before that tip came in. The hero on duty should have caught on immediately, had he been paying attention. After the bombing, rumors circulated that the hero was drunk or on drugs at the time. Other rumors spread stating he had been banging a blonde stripper who worked at the Double Deuce located on the same side of town. It was neither. The hero on duty that year happened to lose his wife and child to gang members the year before and was still consumed by grief at their loss. He harbored a private vendetta against the gangs and those bad memories came flooding back that day which filled him with bloodlust and clouded his judgement.

Bryan stepped outside and breathed in the night air which was a welcome relief from the stagnant air of the tavern. Police sirens echoed in the distance. He glanced across the street to see a hooker and her john exchanging money. Despite the Hero Factory, this side of town still harbored the junkies, the whores and the destitute. This was the corrupt side of town rarely patrolled by either hero or cop. This was also the place he called home now. As he watched the hooker and her prize hop into a blue pickup and speed off his thoughts drifted to that day in 2014.

“Heroes,” he scoffed and reached for another cigarette. He shoved it into his mouth and retrieved the lighter. The red color of the fire engine reflected the sodium vapor street lights overhead. “Fuck them all.” He turned and walked down the street becoming one with the shadows.

The bartender and the old guy emerged from the tavern and looked both ways, hoping Bryan was out of earshot. “What the hell was that guy going on about?” the old guy asked.

The bartender clutched the bar rag he still held in his hand and frowned. “Zeke, you drank so much whiskey your brain is mush. Don’t you know who that was?”

Zeke shook his head. “You mentioned the name Bryan Whittaker, Bill, but it don’t ring a bell,” Zeke replied.

Bill sighed. “Do you remember the days of Soulfire?” Zeke cocked his head and continued looking confused which only served to make Bill even more exasperated. “Damn your worthless hide Zeke you don’t remember shit!” He looked down the street to make sure Bryan was really gone. He turned to Zeke and lowered his voice, despite the emptiness of the streets. The overhead lights glistened in his eyes as recalled a distant memory.

“He was the hero on duty when City Hall blew up.”

I have been debating for a little over a week whether or not I wanted to publish this. In the end I decided it would be best because it would help mend wounds both old and new. Due to a lot of shit that has changed recently in my life I have been spending a lot of time on self reflection. No one will believe the words I am about to write here except a select few, and even those select few will be surprised at what has gone through my head lately. I guess I should start from the beginning. Well….here goes nothing.

Twenty three years ago, on May 22nd my uncle sat upon the bed of our shore house in Seaside Heights, placed a shotgun against his chest and fired. My friends found him on the floor during prom night…my prom night. Perhaps he did it knowing we would find him. Who knows? Our family has debated his reasoning for years and to be honest it was not his action that was the most important but the consequences of his action. We were devastated, from my mother (his sister) to my cousin (his daughter). I remember it like it happened yesterday. A select few knew this.

Twenty three years later, I retrieved my .40 caliber handgun, loaded it, sat on the bed and clutched it in my hands. No one knew this.

This is not a cry for help, because I have analyzed the reasons and  have come to an understanding with myself, so before anyone calls the police or is preparing to send me to the funny farm please read the rest of this. You may be interested in knowing what was going through my head at that very moment. I was stressed by what I felt was my failure as a husband, father and employee.  I lost both my children. One is living 100 miles away and another is preparing to live further than that. I lost my wife. The job I once felt I could perform effortlessly was now a great effort. Every day I felt like crap, I wanted to sleep but when I finally did go to bed I found I couldn’t. I slept no more than three to four hours a day, other days I would sit up and stare into the darkness.  I found little enjoyment in anything. Food was bland, I turned on my favorite shows and watched them with an eerie disconnection. I took a hard look at my life. I had no money, very few friends and had never felt more alone in my life. I started drinking more, thinking it would take the pain away. It didn’t. I turned to the outside and saw the same darkness which resided in myself. The news was equally depressing. Black fighting white. Republican fighting Democrat. Terrorists, sadness, pain everywhere. I didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

I held the gun in my hands and the first thing  I thought  was : “I don’t want to be a part of this world. I’m not sure I can take the pain anymore.” I looked over at the dresser and there sat a picture of Brian. His mother abandoned him when he was 4. I looked down at the gun and thought: “I am about to abandon him at 11.” Then I remembered how I felt after my uncle killed himself. Anger, betrayal, sorrow, confusion. Yeah it was a lot for a nineteen year old to absorb. How would an 11 year old and a 3 year old feel? Brian was already growing up without a mother and I was about to take his father away. That was pretty fucking selfish and made me worse than his mother. His mother could come back….I couldn’t. Braydon is a happy child and his face lit up every time I would come home from work or pick him up at daycare.  He had a hard time understanding why I’m not at home right now. What would he think as he stood next to his daddy’s casket?

The last time I really cried was my grandmother’s funeral in 2001, but I cried that night. I cried all over that fucking gun. I felt broken…hell I still feel somewhat broken even as I write this. I am better now then I was that night…a lot better. I just came back from NJ after visiting some friends I have not seen in a long time and we spoke about the good times we had in the past. I needed that trip more than I knew and I plan on taking more. Some of these friends are on Facebook and will undoubtedly read this and say to themselves “WTF?” Why am I writing this or even airing this out, you may ask. Part of the reason is this is my own self therapy. I like to write (most of you know that). The other half of that reason is I believe everyone goes through a bad patch in their life, I don’t care who you are. I hope that my words can inspire anyone who is really hurting inside and thinking of picking up that gun. Put it down.

I did.

Well it’s that time again folks. Election time. It’s like Christmas in Washington DC and I would wish them a Merry Christmas but that wouldn’t be politically correct so Happy Holidays you cheeky bastards! Anyway, anyone who knows me knows I like to occasionally talk politics-I just try to keep it off this blog. But the repetitive nature of the insanity continues and I can no longer resist the urge to comment. For those of you who are unfamiliar with how the American election system works let me try to describe it briefly and using visual aids.

Well first we have a politician run for office. He promises everything from reduction of government, more freedom, more education, debt reduction, balancing the budget, everyone gets a free car to whatever it is the people want to hear. The politician usually looks like this:

Look at him…isn’t he all cute and fluffy. I jut want to hug him and squeeze him. Anyway, election night rolls around and he wins by a landslide. ALL WILL BE SAVED!!! We shout in the streets. But wait….days and months roll by. Our fluffy politician is beginning to change. What is this??

Now our politician ate all the chicken in the fridge that we were saving for dinner. Next thing we know our politician strangled the neighbor with a set of Christmas lights. He just ran up our credit card at the local strip club.  Now what do we do? Well folks, we wait another two years to vote in the new Mogwai….err politician on the block.

The point of this post (besides my own rambling insanity) is that this country needs a fundamental change. The two party system is not working. I say let us give voice to independent and third party candidates. Allow them televised debates-let their voices be heard. You may be surprised, their voice may be one of sanity for once.

People will argue: “allowing more party candidates means a person would win with less than 50% of the vote”. My argument is this: Mark Warner just won Virginia with 49% of the vote so your argument is invalid.  Do I want someone running the country who only garnered let’s say…45% of the national vote? Depends…does he or she make sense? We need to stop voting for people who have a (D) or (R) after their name just because of the letter. Let more voices be heard, let’s focus on fixing this mess we are in. We now have a Republican controlled Congress and a Democrat president. I’m sure stuff will be fixed now.

/eyeroll

Time Travel for Dummies

Observation Room- Gordian Knot-Earth Date July 13th, 2014

Sam entered the room and dropped the book on the table. The thud sounded more like a gunshot. The book was thick and as heavy as it looked.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

Sam tugged at his earring and chuckled dryly. “I assumed you were as confused as you appeared.”

I seated myself at the table. “You could say that.”

Sam seated himself across from me. “I guess I should start from the beginning.” He opened the book and started fingering through the pages. “This is Kell’s journal. Anything anyone ever wanted to know about time travel, wormholes and the universe in general is contained in this book.”

“How did you get it?” I asked with a hint of suspicion. “Did you just happen to find it at the local library?”

Sam smiled. “I am beginning to pick up your skepticism.”

“Good because I was trying to lay it on pretty thick,” I replied.

Sam laughed. “To answer your question I will have to revisit our time in that cave in New Mexico. Your life wasn’t the only one that changed that day.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam ran his hand over his face and sighed deeply. It only took one look at his weary face to understand that his story would be a long one. “After the rope went slack I became concerned,” he explained. “Of course, like an idiot, I ran into the cave without a flashlight, expecting the rope to guide me to you. I smashed my head on a low hanging rock, knocking myself out.”

I knew the story. Satou explained it to me shortly, not long after I was abducted from New Mexico. I remember laughing about it at the time, but judging by the serious look on Sam’s face, I decided to bite my tongue for now.

“I don’t remember how long I was out. What I do remember was waking up outside the cave,” he continued. “I ran home and called the police. My mother was pissed because I was supposed to have been home three hours prior.” He looked at me and smiled. “Don’t worry, when I told her something bad happened to you she forgot about our scheduled grocery store trip, so she wasn’t so angry in the end.”

“Gee, that makes my heart all aflutter,” I quipped.

Sam ignored my verbal jab. “Anyway, the police investigation determined you had died in a cave collapse.”

“What?” I cried. “That’s ridiculous!”

Sam held up his hand. “It’s not so ridiculous when you analyze the facts. The cops found your end of the rope buried underneath a collapsed wall.”

“But that’s impossible,” I interrupted. “There was a doorway in the wall. Didn’t they see it?”

Sam fixed me with a stern look. “Are you going to let me finish or are you going to keep interrupting?” When he saw I wouldn’t offer a retort he nodded. “Good. I didn’t buy their conclusion for two reasons. Number one was the fact that the rope went slack but when they found your end of the rope it was located in the center of the collapse as tight as can be. Number two: Someone dragged me out of that cave. I certainly didn’t walk out of there in an unconscious daze.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.

Sam looked confused. “You knew, didn’t you?”

I looked at the floor and nodded. “His name was Madoc. He was the Explorer’s League Medical Officer. He told me the story not long after they took me aboard their ship.”

“I went back to the cave the next day, hoping to find something that the police didn’t.” Sam closed the book and tapped the cover with his index finger, deep in thought. “Every day I went back until school started.” He stood up and walked to the window. With his back to me, he continued. “I had no idea what I expected to find. Perhaps I expected to find you crawling out of the cave, coughing up dirt balls and begging for water. Maybe I expected your ghost to spring from the cave and tell me how terrible I was at jungling in League of Legends.” He lowered his head. “I made it a point to visit the cave every chance I got but of course nothing changed. No Nathan phantoms floated from the caves. Hell not one stone in the collapse was out of place. It was like the place had been frozen in time ever since that day.”

“I’m sorry Sam,” I offered weakly.

He held up his hand and waved it dismissively without even bothering to turn around. “Don’t apologize for my ADHD because eventually it panned out. About six months after you had been declared dead, I took a stroll down to the cave after school. I was chipping away at the collapsed wall with nothing more than a flashlight and a thick wood walking stick, thinking about how badly you wanted to break through. You had a rock hammer, I had a walking stick. I figured it would take me twenty years to bust through the wall, but I didn’t care. The cave was the only thing tying me to your memory.”

“But something happened,” I interjected.

Sam nodded and turned his head. He stared at me from the corner of his eye with a smile on his face. “You could say that.” He turned and looked at me. He ran his hand through his goatee before continuing. “This trip to the cave was different. One of the stones in the wall looked as if it had been tampered with. I chipped at it with my stick and it broke off, causing a book to fall from the hole.” He cast a glance at the book on the table before continuing. “When I opened it a note fell out.”

“A note?” I asked.

Sam approached the table and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He placed it on the table and slid it across to me. It had yellowed with age and was torn at the corners. I unfolded it and read its contents.

Sam,

I have been keeping my eye on you since Nathan’s disappearance. Your relentless poking of the security barrier is quite literally the most maddening thing I have seen in a long time. I have left clues for you all over the place but you seemed focused on a rock wall for some ungodly reason. I am not sure what you hope to accomplish. Perhaps you think you can beat the wall to death with a stick? It is because of your maddening behavior that I hid my journal in the wall. I am personally running short on time and if I waited for you we would experience another Big Bang before you discovered it. The Explorer’s League has forced my hand. You must follow my instructions to the letter, Sam Wells. The fate of the universe may depend on it. Several years from now, the Earth will face a war unlike any it has experienced before. We must stop it at all costs. Grillick is on his way. He will meet you at this very spot in two weeks. Bring the book. All will be explained.

-Kell

I folded the note and passed it back. “Kell was a big ray of sunshine, huh?”

Sam chuckled. “At the time I happened to agree with you. Until I met him, that is.”

My eyes widened. “You met Kell?”

“Several years later but that’s another story for another time.” He took the note and slipped it in his pocket. “To make a long story short I went back to the cave two weeks later.”

“And Grillick was there?” I was so engrossed in the tale that I didn’t realize I spoke out loud. It wasn’t until Sam frowned that I knew I had interrupted him again. I tossed him an apologetic smile.

“Yes and no,” he responded. When a confused look crossed my face he clarified his remark. “When I showed up there was a mailbox staked in the ground in front of the cave with a sign that read: ‘Please deposit any journals in here’. So I did what the sign said and deposited the book.”

“Yeah that sounds like Grillick,” I grumbled. “What happened next?”

“Well that’s the thing,” Sam explained. “I didn’t know what to do next so I waited.” When I looked at him like he sprouted a second head he held up his hands. “What else was I supposed to do? The note said ‘all will be explained’. A mysterious mailbox erected in a remote cave didn’t explain a damn thing.”

“Good point,” I conceded.

“I was there about fifteen minutes before a voice came from the cave. I followed it to the collapsed wall. Waiting there for me was a…” he paused and looked at me. “Well I guess I don’t have to explain what Grillick looks like. Anyway, he was sitting on a rock tapping his foot impatiently. After scolding me for standing outside waiting like an idiot instead of entering the cave, he finally explained things.”

After several minutes passed without clarification I held up my hands. “And what were these ‘things’ he explained? Don’t keep me in suspense like that!”

He turned to the window and drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

Author Carole Gill has nominated me for the WIP blog tour.  You can follow the dark path to her books here:

 http://carolegillauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/the-work-in-progress-blog-tour-meet.html

Now I will be the first to admit that I’m not the greatest blogger as my barren blog can attest. If you don’t  know who I am (and you probably don’t) I’m the author of the science fiction series The Cartographer as well as the fantasy/adventure the Guardian Chronicles and thriller Vendetta. I am currently working on is the third book in the Cartographer series (tentatively titled “Timeless”) Several authors wrote what their WIP’s are about but I’m ridiculously stubborn and I don’t like to conform to standards so I’m going to summarize the story using graphical stimulants.

So to sum up what has happened, there is this teenage kid from Earth

And he was inadvertently abducted by an officer of an intergalactic alien organization 

The kid unlocks an ancient universal map  which accidentally triggers events which renew an ancient war

Eventually this leads to betrayal as one of the Council members joins the enemy. Despite his treacherous ways he is a pretty snappy dresser 

This leads to me killing off a bunch of people, George RR Martin style because, to be honest, I’m crazy like that. So the third book picks up where Reborn leaves off. Without revealing spoilers, Nathan (not Percy Jackson) comes into contact with ancient beings known as the Timeless, and after being trained by them to stop being scared like a little bitch all the time embarks on a quest to stop Calypso and his new found allies from destroying the very fabric of the universe.  Book 3 will contain introductions to more of the Timeless, a potential ally in the Order of the Sun from the planet Gliese, more backstory and even more enemies as the fractured Consortium becomes whole again but not in a good way.

In book three there will be a lot of this 

And not so much of this [image error]

Here is a summary of the main players of book 3

Nathan Chambers – former scared bitch, now an intergalactic badass (maybe)

Embeth – Leader of the Insurgents and wannabe Thor

Lianne-Captain of the former Defense Fleet and crazy cat lady

Kedge Mal’Dineen- Former inhabitant of Mars and grumpy old man

Satou- Science officer who abducted Nathan in a fit of insanity

Calypso- Mortician of the Stars

Vayne- One of the Timeless and universal treasure hoarder. Oh and he likes himself.

Vigil- Captain Grumpsalot also a member of the Timeless

Vanth- A mysterious Timeless member who lives on the worst rendition of Tatooine ever. Oh yeah he trains Nathan to stop being such a bitch.

Grillick- A hairier version of Tyrion Lannister. Oh and he invents stuff too. Some of it even works. Also a member of the Timeless

Sergeant Cantrell- Grillick’s hired gun. His is a combination of Han Solo and Mike from Breaking Bad

Now unfortunately I don’t have a time table on book 3 but I’m working to try to release first quarter of 2015. Don’t rush miracles or you get rotten miracles.

And since I have no friends I decided to nominate the entire Creativia team of authors to carry on this tradition of insanity! See, I don’t conform to rules and regulations!

You can find the entire list of authors here

http://www.creativia.org/

But watch out for Miika Hannila, he’s secretly the Walking Dude. Stephen King told me this himself.

So I was on my way home last night and I heard something interesting on the radio. No it wasn’t the latest Justin Bieber tune. It was the latest food fad to hit the country-The Twinkirito.

Now you may think I am making this up so I would like to insert a documented news source here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/07/23/twinkerito-twinkie-burrito_n_5609243.html

Let me explain what a “Twinkirito” is. It is a Twinkie- you know, that lovable 500 calorie creamy sponge cake that goes way back to Ghostbusters. 

Well what we are going to do is take that Twinkie, roll it in a burrito shell, deep fry it and sprinkle it with powdered sugar.  That’s right folks. Only in America have we decided that a Twinkie is not sugary nor fattening enough. We have reached deep down within ourselves to work at increasing our waist line even further. What we have created is this:

[image error]

‘Murica!!!! HELL YEAH!!!

[image error]

You tell ‘em Wilfred!

-Craig “Twinkirito Bandito” Gaydas

Talon

Thirty minutes had passed. Most of them went in brooding silence. The final ten I spent silently raging. Vayne held us prisoner but we had yet to understand why. Satou and our allies were on the planet below meeting with an unknown adversary, according to him. My patience ran out. I could no longer hold my tongue.

“What is going on down there?” I demanded.

Lianne laid her hand gently across my wrist. It seemed she sensed my rising anger. Vayne on the other hand seemed to care less. For the past fifteen minutes he had been busy using his dagger to clean dirt from underneath his fingernails. At the sound of my voice he looked up from the endeavor and locked on me with his helmet of goggles.

“That’s a good question,” he said more to himself than to me. “I wonder what is going on down there.”

Lianne stood up. I watched her hand fall to the sword at her waist. “We are tired of waiting Vayne. We are tired of your games.” Her hand tensed on the sword hilt. “I will slice my way through you if I have to.”

Vayne laid the dagger flat on the table and spun it. It was as if I watched some macabre game of spin the bottle. The dagger stopped with the tip of the blade pointing toward us.

“I do not doubt your courage, Lianne.” He looked at the dagger and tapped his index finger on the table. “Despite your beliefs we are on the same side. I have a vested interest in your young friend’s safety.”

Lianne looked at me and I recognized her concern. “Why?” I asked.

Vayne leaned across the table. “You face enemies at all side. You are embroiled in a war which you cannot hope to win.”

“What do you mean?” I pressed.

“Your enemies are all around you.” He stood and looked out the window and the planet below. “The Ascended are searching for you. The Consortium is trying to kill you. The Insurgents need you.” He turned and folded his arms across his chest. “They would all kill you to achieve their goals. Your friends are no different. Only one group is trying to protect you.”

I looked at Lianne. Her grip relaxed on her sword. “And what group is that?” she asked.

Vayne took a seat and leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. “The only group that matters, the one who has been tasked with protecting the universe since the Big Bang.”

“And that is?” I asked.

“Us,” he responded smugly. “The Twelve Timeless.”

Talon

Lianne and I sat across from each other at the long table. At the far end, Vayne cut off a piece of fruit with his dagger. It was grotesque smelling and equally nasty looking. It looked like a purple banana but despite my revulsion, he seemed to take pleasure in it. He closed his eyes and chewed so slow it was like watching in slow motion. Vayne took pleasure in everything it seemed, based upon the riches which adorned his ship.

Lianne’s fingers drummed the table’s surface impatiently. My foot took on its own kind of spastic rhythm against the leg of the table while we waited for Vayne to swallow. “Why do you keep us here?” I finally blurted.

He swallowed, wiped the dagger carefully on a napkin and slid it back into its sheath—a leather scabbard obscenely inlaid with gold that was most likely won during some random game of chance on some godforsaken planet against some sucker. Vayne’s gambling stories were as numerous as his treasures.

Laying the dagger gently upon the table he flicked a seed off the table. “You are here because I have orders to keep you here.”

“Orders from who? Lianne demanded.

“That isn’t important,” he huffed. “What is important is that you remain here until otherwise necessary. Safety is of the utmost priority.”

“I don’t need anyone to keep me safe,” Lianne growled.

Vayne looked at her and laughed. “Bugger off then. It’s not you I’m concerned with.”

A look of concern washed over her before she turned toward me. “Is he in danger?”

Vayne removed his dagger and began picking his teeth. “These are dangerous times we live in. Isn’t everybody in some kind of danger at one time or another?”

“Your riddles are beginning to drive me crazy,” I responded angrily. “Can’t you give us a straight answer for once?”

Vayne removed the blade from his teeth. His mouth twisted and for the first time since our initial meeting I spied anger in his expression. As quickly as it came, it disappeared. “I thought I did,” he replied calmly.

I rose angrily and slammed my fists on the table. “Screw you and screw your riddles, I’m outta here.” I hurried to the door.

Startled, Lianne rose and hurried after me. Before either of us could reach the door, Vayne flicked his wrist and his dagger crashed into the wall about three inches from my nose. He moved around the table with a swift feline grace to stand between us and the door. “It’s not my riddles that are keeping you alive, Cartographer.”

“Is it your witty banter?” I mocked.

Vayne brayed like a donkey. “I like you Cartographer. I will miss you when you’re dead.”

I frowned. “Well that’s reassuring.”

Vayne yanked the dagger from the wall and slipped it back into its sheath before seating himself. “Reassurance is not really my game. To be honest, babysitter is not really my thing either but it was what I have been tasked to do until backup arrives.”

“Backup?” I asked. “We have allies down there.” I gestured at the window, toward the planet below. “All you need to do is land.”

His expression suddenly became serious. “Your confidence in your allies can be your undoing, Cartographer. Be wary of those you call friend.”

“I knew most of those people since I was barely out of my mother’s womb,” Lianne shouted. “Nobody down there plans to hurt us so you can stop the act.”

Vayne stared at her for a long time. Tension fell over us like a blanket. He studied her to decide if she was one of the questionable ones. Lianne didn’t flinch. She was a fighter in all that she did and never backed down, despite the odds. The silence was broken by the beeping of the intercom. Vayne stood up and strolled over to the wall mounted unit.

“Yes?”

“The enemy has been sighted. Their forces have landed on the planet, sir.”

“Thank you.” Vayne turned from the intercom and flashed us a toothy smile. “And now we shall put your friend’s allegiance to the test.”

Galaxy GX-400

Aboard Talon, orbiting over the planet Vaire

It has been two weeks since the second Battle of Caelum. The first battle, waged several centuries ago between the Consortium and Lumagom, ended badly for the latter. This time the battle between the Consortium and Insurgents ended badly for the former. It surprised me how easily they were routed on their home world, but Embeth suggested their fractured alliances caused them the greatest harm. Our alliance with the Timeless certainly played no small part in our victory. How long they will continue to be our ally remains to be seen.

A hand fell upon my shoulder. “How are you holding up?” I knew who it was before she even spoke. Her perfume, a faint musk combined with the scent of cloves preceded her entrance into my room.

I replied with a wry smile. “I’m just peachy.”

Her feline eyes studied me. They flashed with an emerald brilliance and I realized my apprehension had broke through my facade. “Something troubles you.” It wasn’t a question.

I sighed and swept my hand across the lavishly decorated room. Vayne, our host and captain of the Talon, was fond of the riches gathered from the far reaches of the universe. My eyes drifted to a golden urn perched on top of a mahogany desk, also inlaid in gold. Talon explained that he had won the urn from a Drith gambler playing a game of Orgellian Chance. Talon at the time attempted to explain the rules of the card game but I failed to grasp it. It seemed to be some sort of mutant form of Gin Rummy but the stakes were much higher. Apparently people had lost more than golden urns.

“What troubles me is our allies,” I replied with a grimace. “How long can we depend on Vayne? How long can we depend on the Timeless for their support?”

Lianne removed her hand from my shoulder and rubbed the back of her neck. My questions, rhetorical in nature, caused her brow to furrow nonetheless as she searched for the answer. “For as long as our goals are the same, I guess.”

A moment of silence passed between us until Vayne entered the room. He took one look at Lianne and smiled. Instead of eyes, his helmet—adorned with many lenses of various shapes and sizes—gave him sight beyond that of any normal sentient being. Not long after our first meeting he explained that he could see across a wider spectrum than others. During our battles together I had witnessed his abilities both in extreme darkness and blinding sunlight. Neither affected him in a negative manner thanks to his goggle helmet.

“Well speak of the devil,” I grunted.

His smiled faded when he turned toward me. “Wouldn’t be the first time I was accused of that,” he replied with a shrug.

“I believe it is just an Earthly figure of speech,” offered Lianne.

He gave another disinterested shrug. “I just stopped by to let you know we are now orbiting Vaire.”

Lianne looked relieved and threw her arm around my shoulders. “It’s been a long time since we have seen Satou, let’s not keep him waiting.”

Vayne stepped between us and the door. “I have my orders, we need to remain here.”

Lianne’s smile faded. I did not find Vayne’s statement particularly comforting. “We have orders from Embeth,” I argued. “We need to collect Satou and his forces.”

Vayne’s hand fell to his sidearm. The gesture was done in a calm, nonchalant manner, but I still did not appreciate his hand lying there ominously. Lianne removed her arm from my shoulders and dropped her hand to her sword. The two combatants squared off in an old fashion Wild West showdown for several minutes, staring at each other in tense silence.

Vayne had a crew of roughly seventeen highly trained soldiers and mercenaries aboard the Talon. I had Lianne. Vayne was an ageless warrior with the ability to infiltrate and destroy entire armies. I was a teenager in charge of a map.

Checkmate.

Caelum

I sagged in front of the screen with file 24.001 in my hand. According to the notes embedded within the previous file, this would show me exactly what happened to those two boys. Were their deaths caused by Fire Wolves or was it something more sinister? Whispers of assassination ran through the masses as tensions rose between the Martian government and the Consortium. Before I could pop the disk into the computer, Gard rolled into the room. My robotic sidekick was like a faithful bloodhound lately, leaving my side only if he must.

“Nathan, it is time for us to go.”

I sighed. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

Embeth appeared in the doorway. “Unfortunately there is no time. We have to leave before Royal Command collects and rallies their scattered forces. We must take advantage of this moment.”

I felt the walls close around me. We had to leave, but I lamented leaving these tomes of history behind. The High Prince, just to spite me, would burn the Archivist Library to the ground. Embeth thought the idea ludicrous but I suspected otherwise. I exposed his Consortium as a fraud and he vowed revenge.

“I know,” I acknowledged. “I don’t have to like it though.”

Embeth dropped his hand on my shoulder. “Nobody likes it, Nathan. The events unfolding since that day appeal to no one. We have lost too many and come too far to look back now.”

I scooped up all the files I could carry and dropped it into my pack. With a sympathetic nod, Embeth led me out of the Library. Once outside, the bright suns contrasted the dimly lit room and briefly blinded me with their glare. Despite refraining from looking skyward, Caelum’s two suns pounded my peripheral vision and forced me to look at the ground until my eyes adjusted. After they cleared I looked around and immediately regretted it. Inside the confines of the Library I felt at ease. The wealth of knowledge provided a security blanket which allowed me to escape reality, even if only briefly. When I looked up, reality punched me in the gut.

Embeth’s forces were gathered around the library and had begun boarding the many scout ships that littered the Library’s grounds. Flying beyond the clouds were several DFS class warships, providing a shroud defense against any hostile forces that may have lingered behind. Bodies were strewn around the courtyard. Some were the High Prince’s forces, others were Embeth’s. I recognized some of their faces, but forgot their names. During these times I am thankful they are forgotten. The pain of remembrance is sometimes too much to bear. Dead faces linger far longer than those of the living.

“It’s time,” Embeth muttered.

I followed him aboard the nearest scout ship with Gard in tow. There were more dead faces yet to come.

-Nathan Chambers