Manly Video Game Review: Ratchet & Clank Future: Quest For Booty

*If you feel confused, please refer to the Guide To Manly Video Game Reviews, put to your availability on the post below*

This game is about giggling critters. Giggling, gleeful, multicolored little fuckin' critters. Why would I bother with this? Well, there is a simple explanation for this folks. I have a passionate and undying love for platforming. If the whole spectrum of life experience would resume as climbing platforms, swinging from ledges, stepping on bad guys`s head and wearing plumbing pants...well I'd be a happy camper.

Prior to this epsiode, I played the Tools Of Destruction game and unlike most of planet earth, I was left with mixed feelings. This game was so easy, even in hard mode, that I had the impression that I was sold good self esteem more than a good game. As I dug the clever uses of the sixxaxis system for the mini-games and the frantically paced platforming...well, the fact that you never lost any levels when dying (even unsaved) and that most bosses were pushovers (which is not common to platformers), well I liked it enough to buy the PSN episode, but I wasn't expecting much. All the non-manly video game reviews were a little disappointing, so I was gearing myself towards a lesser product.

So I put on my PSN Pants, this magic item made of tight spandex allowing me to dig shorter games, none-sense plots, recycled ideas and bad graphics, all of that, for the love of cheap entertainment. So guys...here's what I thought about Ratchet and Clank Future: Quest For Booty

STORYTELLING

Without spoiling anything, I can tell you this whole episode could have been skipped. If you want to buy the new Ratchet and Clank Future game without paying for this one, well no problem, you guys won't get lost at all.

That said, it is a very enjoyable story. There is no Clank, no Captain Quark, but it makes somehow the storyline seem more focused. It was a clever idea to make a game out of the zoni subplot, from Tools Of Destruction and it was well put together. Of course it's short. I passed the game in five hours maybe and keep in mind that my manly self it a pretty slow gamer. I like to take my time and explore as much as I can. Five hours for ten bucks...well...it's a lot better than some games who give five hours for seventy bucks. Tools Of Destruction had fifteen hours for seventy bucks, so I consider Quest For Booty a better value.

Without spoiling anything, I'd resume the plot this way. Ratchet and Talwyn are looking for Clank and end up entangled with the late Captain Slag, Rusty Pete and the whole pirate crew. Talwyn is still irrelevant, Ratchet still has no personality, the new 'KOTOR' dialogue function is laughable, but the entertainment comes from the challengers. Rusty Pete is probably the most interesting character in the whole franchise and the pirate theme is silly and entertaining. It could have been called Ratchet Vs The Pirates and it would have been more accurate, but it's a very interesting idea for episodic content.

Oh by the way, is it me or episodes are the new hot thing? I think it's a nice way to involve the characters in something else than a main metaquest. Side Quest used to be the hot thing, but since imagination has left side quests designers and they transformed it into a MMO-Grinding boredom, I think episodic content might take over the flame of character involvement.

NOTE: 19/25

GAMEPLAY

Before playing the game, I had been told that it was a recycled, re-washed Ratchet and Clank episode, which I believed, because it's a cheap online download...well... BOOOOY I WAS WRONG ABOUT THIS! There is a lot of changes that have been made...for an online episode. The main functions of the game are still there, which is good, because it doesn't confuse anyone, the weapons inventory is the same, the weapons are the same, except maybe for the kinetic wrench, which allows you do nice gameplay possibilities. I heard some people whine about the weapons, but...do you guys really care? Weapons in Ratchet and Clank are all super cool and no one wants to see them change. I'd be devastated to loose my nano-swarmers.

The level design is where that game truly shines....it's A LOT BETTER than Tools Of Destruction. It's harder, the puzzles are cooler, the platforming is more inspired...and hell...bosses are not pushovers. There is also a battle which brought me to my old Nintendo days, where battle used to be hard and there was no savepoints. Just this one battle in the game, well crafted, well designed...and A LOT harder than the last boss. I spent maybe half an hour on that battle and it made the game very exciting and strategic. The technical challenge in Quest For Booty has been
raised...and it's very enjoyable!

NOTE:22/25

PRESENTATION

This is maybe where the game feels a little recycled. Yes it looks good, but...it looks exactly the same as Tools Of Destruction. There is no improvement at all, no chances taken, so it's a bit...meh! It's enjoyable, but you know, there is not much to say about them if you already know the franchise. It looks like a pixar movie yes, but I would have loved to see more architectural design, more attention to detail, less roundness in shapes.

Ratchet and Clank is a flagship series for Playstation. Tools Of Destruction is now a greatest hit, so Quest For Booty felt a little bit like an experiment. But hey...ten bucks, five hours....you get what you pay for and in that way, Quest For Booty delivers.

NOTE:16/25

AWESOMENESS

This game is plastered from wall to wall with pirates, do I need to say more? There is drunken debauchery, pirate songs and there is Rusty Pete, stealing the show, providing the game the humorous feeling that has been one of the franchise`s strong points...oh and did I mentionned the UNDEAD pirates also?

Another awesome thing that people might not know about Ratchet and Clank...unlike other platformers, this game is not about 'finding stuff'. No, the true subject of this franchise genocide. As genocide is not awesome at all, genociding happy and colored critters is very funny. Ratchet`s weapons are so grossly overpowered that they just plow through ennemies and leaves a pile of flashy colored corpses behind. The nano(toxic) swarmer in particular left me pretty satisfied

NOTE:23/25


ACES

-Rusty Pete.

-Nano/Toxic Swarmers as a genocidal weapon.

-More challenging level of difficulty.

FAILS

-Ratchet is still a hollow excuse for a character.

-The game takes no risks.

-No sixxaxis use.


CONCLUSIONS

Well...Quest For Booty, as long as it is taken for what it is...a short episode, is one of the most satisfying chapters in the Ratchet and Clank franchise. It's fun, challenging and it has a lot nice surprises. There is weak points in the narration, but they have been weak points all along the way in the franchise. Quest For Booty is good, cheap entertainment that you will play and enjoy when there is no strong game outstanding for you to try. It's good, it will keep you playing, but you won't wait for the next one to come out. So is the faith of Ratcher & Clank!

NOTE:80%

Guide to Manly Video Game Reviews

Hello readership!

As my first Manly Video Game Review has been one of the biggest success of the young history of Dead End Follies, well I've come to the conclusion that you guys could use a little more structure to make them even more awesome and easier to read. It will also get you guys a chance to form a better opinion..I think!

So here's how I will proceed.

1)INTRODUCTORY COMMENT: It's a way to get you to know the relationship I have with the game, it sets the tone for what will come after.

2)STORYTELLING: As I'm an aspiring narrative designer, it's deadly important for me. Therefore I will give you my piece of my on the story`s substance...and more important, how it is told. There's nothing more frustrating for a manly man than a weak-ass story and a character that you wish would die more.

3)GAMEPLAY: This will include controls and level design. Because it has to do with how the game handles. It`s how you move and interact with the environment. After all, Bonnie & Clyde`s car is probably full of history, but the model most likely handles like shit now. So, what use is a good story without interesting gameplay mechanics? I'm asking you!

4)PRESENTATION: This will include everything from graphics to how the game is sold to us. I will go deeper into the history and the future of the franchise as I deem important to how a game is sold to us. It`s often an indicator of how the franchise is going.

5)AWESOMENESS: A true man never plays a game who`s not awesome...not true...it rattles games that lack awesomeness...it`s what`s going to happen if I accidentally stumble upon shit. Consider that a 'game intangible' section.

6)ACES & FAILS:There is usually very precise things that will get a game remembered and things that will get it forgotten sooner. I'll try to pinpoint three of each game reviewed.


7)CLOSING COMMENTS AND NOTE: I changed my noting system. I will note STORYTELLING, GAMEPLAY, PRESENTATION and AWESOMENESS each on 25 points with will give you an ending percentage


Have a nice read with my next Manly Video Game Review!

Law Of The Gun 006: "A Golden Offer"

With Billy Mays starring as Dale Sterling, here is...LAW OF THE GUN!

His first reaction was to go buy a bag of peanuts and a diet coke at the grocery store downstairs. Brandon sat in the stairs leading to Viking Security and tried to gather his thoughts. What in the world was going on? He couldn’t help but to feel very guilty about it. By not wanting to enter constant direct conflict with David, he let him run the business. Brandon has been very neglectful and, by the looks of it, it ran his business into the ground.

Brandon looked at his big, round fingers, full of this orange barbecue salt they put on the peanuts. He felt disgust and wiped his hand against his work pants instead of licking it as he usually does after eating peanuts. He promised himself for the hundredth time to go on a diet. He got up and walked to the pay phone in the parking. Brandon was living like this since he was young. Nothing got in the way of work. Self-loathing, anxiety and uncertainty were not good enough excuses not to do the work proudly.

So he picked up the pay phone and called Ian. He had to make him aware of the situation and together, they might figure out a course of action from there. Fortunately, Ian almost immediately picked up the phone: “Mmmmmhhh?” his voice was still deep in the far away land of dreams.

“McKenzie man, d’you know what the fuck happened?”, asked Brandon nervously.

“We got bought out Brandon.” , Ian answered.

“WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK MAN? How come we got bought out? I thought Viking Security was just us man, us, ruling our own show.” , said Brandon, visibly hurt.

“Oh come on man! We’re going downhill since that fucking contract in Iraq. You barely show up at the office, David is doing I don’t know what with our money. I was the only one in there with a clear mind, I took the decision to sell. We got a good price, you got your share, you can do whatever you want now, you’re free.” , said Ian with a voice that wasn’t convincing Brandon.

Brandon Vickers knew Ian McKenzie for as long as he could remember. He was a very passionate guy and he was taking as much pride as him in his job. Also, he trusted Ian with his own life and knew he wouldn’t take such a bold decision without talking to him first.

“McKenzie man, that’s fucked up. What happened, who bought us?”

“The US Government bought us out.”

“Ian, you don’t make any sense, we were already working for them, why would they buy us out and close us?”

“What?”

“Dude, don’t give me any of this crap, there are some two by fours over the fucking door!”

“I…I don’t know I just signed a contact with the government representative….I was going to work for them…they were going to offer you work too…”

As Ian was saying this, a car turned in the parking and took place in one of Viking Security’s reserved parking places. It was a brand new shiny black Ford Taurus. Brandon knew every car model. When he was a kid, he used to sit on the small porch of his apartment building with his dad and they would just count the car models passing in the street. They’d do that for hours , just sitting out, eating and counting. He did that sometimes still, when things were not going his way or when he couldn’t sleep, he’d just sit on his porch and count the cars, separate them by different models. It became a relaxing ritual for Brandon.

Two men in suits came out of the car, both very tall broad shouldered middle aged men. Brandon thought one of them looked like Troy Archer, a tennis jock from high school. His face though, was a complete mess. It reminded Brandon of a picture of Terry Sawchuk’s face he was on the internet, completely covered with big bulging scars that looked like caterpillars. The man smiled at Brandon, he recognized him. It was Troy Archer.

“Brandon Vickers!” Troy said with an extinct voice. Brandon barely could hear him.

“Troy? Is that you?”asked Brandon still hoping it was not the golden haired stud he once knew.

Before Troy could place a word, the other man introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Dale Sterling, Mr. Archer and I both work for the F.B.I, are you Brandon Vickers from Viking Security?”

“Yeah…what does the F.B.I has to do with anything?” asked Brandon.

“Have you ever wanted to be an F.B.I agent Brandon?” asked Dale Sterling as if he was proposing him the deal of a lifetime?

Said like that, it was a sweet alternative. Brendan had a sour taste from his last contract for the government, but the F.B.I, it was prestigious and it wouldn’t require him to watch people get killed for no reason all day long. He could maybe even meet a girl with the confidence that this status would give him, who knew? As an experienced businessman, he knew not to get charmed too fast by a proposition, so he said:

“Keep talking.”

Dale Sterling took a glance around, the parking was completely desert, except for the three of them: “I like parkings.” he said. “It’s the only place you can be sure you’re not getting tailed or recorded.”

“Mmmm?” said Brendan, amused by that Hollywoodian remarked.

“All right, here’s the deal. You got some skills we could use. We’ve been told you’re the best camera guy in all security business. That you can wire up a system fast to cover effective angles. You’ve been highly recommended. We heard your cameras already saved some lives. How about doing that for the government? Eighty grands a year?”

Brandon couldn’t hide his surprise.

“So you’re interested big guy?” continued Sterling, opportunistically.

“Uh yeah…” said Brandon, a little shook.

“Are you ready to take on your first assignment son? You look a little pale.”

“No, no” Brandon said, impatient to return to what would be somewhat of a routine “I’m all ears.”

“All right, your first assignment is to watch a medical clinic. I know it sounds strange, but the doctor working there is a Turkish immigrant and his medicine is practiced in a loose sense of the term. We want to monitor everything he does and if anything looks suspicious to you, you call me or Troy right?”
“Right” said Brandon.

“Now follow me” said Dale, walking towards what used to be Viking Security head office.

Brandon followed, not understanding what was going on. Dale Sterling just offered him a job that was paying him twenty grands more than his usual yearly pay in company benefits, he just couldn’t say no. Sterling hotwired the fire exit and made his way into the office, inviting Brandon to follow. Everything was still in place. The advertisements in the windows have been taken down and replace by plywood, the main entrance had been nailed shut, but that was it. Everything else was in place. Even the crayon pot of Erika, his secretary was still there.
“Here’s your center of operations Brandon. We’ll have someone to put a numeral lock on the fire exit and we’ll text you the number on your phone, don’t lose it. You start to work right now and we’ll start paying right now. Just relax until night time, we’ll get you to the clinic where you’ll be wiring up your camera network.”
While saying this, Dale Sterling dropped an envelope on Erika’s desk. There was a number scrawled on it:

10 000.

“Here is a compensation for the last few weeks. Not go get some rest, you’ll have a long night. Troy Archer smile and invited everyone to go outside.

Vintage Videos: Tribute To Michael Swaim

Hi readership! For today`s Vintage Video, I offer you one of my favorite Cracked TV episodes. Why? Because Michael Swaim is a very funny and very self-made man from the internet! He's a terror online and relatively unknown in the outside world. As I'm promoting him as much as I'm promoting myself, while you guys wait for Law Of The Gun tomorrow...here is Michael Swaim!

The Specialist: Episode 08

Settle down readership! Take a coffee, relax and enjoy this week`s episode of...THE SPECIALIST!

10:01 AM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Yeah hem...I filled up these expense reports and...it doesn`t work. My computer ID is R5242S441

ANALYST:All right, sure, I'd need to use to corporate MSN to hop over to your computer so we can see the same thing. Is that right with you Mrs...Stillwell?

CLIENT:Ugh...sure.

ANALYST:All right here it is...

CLIENT:mmm...mmmm...

ANALYST:Oh, I see, hem...how could I say that...yeah I would have to populate another expense report to correct a few things. Don't worry, it won't be long, that software is built pretty cleverly.

CLIENT:I don't think so.

ANALYST:What?

CLIENT:I spent an hour on that expense report to make notes.I'm not starting over.

ANALYST:Calm down, I'll just put your notes in a notepad while I'm doing this, five minutes in and out!

CLIENT:Let go of the mouse!

ANALYST:Hey you want help or not?

CLIENT:Nah, too much of a hassle, I'll work my way around this.

ANALYST:What the fuck did you call me for then?

CLIENT:I wrongly expected to talk to a competent worker.

ANALYST:Oh, I see what`s going on. Maybe when I wake up everyday, I wrongly expect to go to work, sit at my desk and talk to smart and patient client.

CLIENT:I'm very smart asshole, you're the one who's too dumb to do his work.

ANALYST:Listen to me, you filled up your expense report with so many fucking mistakes that you would have made your machine explode! There is no ten seconds fix for that. I wanted to fix your stupid mistakes in five minutes but ...Noooo! Too much of a hassleu!

CLIENT:Sorry, it's my fault I'm so stressed out.

ANALYST:FUCK YOU! YOU'RE A SHAME TO ANACOM SOLUTIONS!

CLIENT:Ok you can troublesh...

ANALYST:TAKE YOUR STUPID PETTY PROBLEM AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS WOMAN! *to Hamid*. I'm not taking anyone`s shit today.

CLIENT:Hello?

-CLICK-

2:30 PM

ANALYST:Thank you for calling IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Yeah, I'm having these problems connecting to the network!

ANALYST:Hey, wait a second...I KNOW YOU!

CLIENT:Hem..no you don't.

ANALYST:I KNOW YOUR VOICE!

CLIENT:Well, whatever, can you help me with that?

ANALYST:Where did I hear you damn?

CLIENT:I don't know, I don't care...want some help!

ANALYST:Oh FUCK! You were the client that made fun of me when I was working on your computer last week.*see episode 7*

CLIENT:Oh and your were that impolite employee? Can you transfer me to someone else?

ANALYST:Hum...how about...no?

CLIENT:How about I'll hang up and get someone else?

ANALYST:I know who you'll get...and he's going to transfer to me *Hamid:damn right!*

CLIENT:Look, I really need to get this resolved, I can't work.

ANALYST: Is your wiring properly made?

CLIENT:Of course!

ANALYST: What do you know about cable wiring?

CLIENT:That mine has been set up by a local technician and that I haven't touched it.

ANALYST: I can see you yapping on the phone and accidentally yanking the ethernet cable away.

CLIENT: You think I'm stupid or what?

ANALYST: I think you're stupid and lazy.

CLIENT: What does it have to do with anything?

ANALYST: What is it to bend over and check the damn ethernet cable...the big blue one.

CLIENT: Look, I have these new white pants, I don't want to mess them up.

ANALYST: Ok then you're stupid, vain and lazy.

CLIENT:OK! OK! The calbe was unplugged...

ANALYST:Plug it back in.

CLIENT:Done...it...works....

ANALYST:HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU SUCK!

-CLICK-

4:23 PM

ANALYST:Thank you for calling IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:I know nothing about computers, I'll pass the phone over to my son.

ANALYST:Ma'am, I need your...*to Hamid* Fuck,she's passing the phone to her son, what should I do?*

Hamid:Baaah! This guy is a pushover, don't give him any respect!

Roger:Right!

CLIENT:Huh hello?

ANALYST: HELLO SON!

CLIENT:Huh?

ANALYST: HELLO SON!

CLIENT:So, my mom has a corrupted excel file.

ANALYST: TELL ME ABOUT IT!

CLIENT: So, here it is...

ANALYST: SAY, YOU DO YOU CHOCOLATE COVERED PRETZELS?

CLIENT: Yeah...

ANALYST: THEY'RE A BIT MELTY BUT DAMN ARE THEY EXQUISITE!

CLIENT: Excel?

ANALYST: What about Excel?

CLIENT: The file that dosen't open?

ANALYST: Son, do YOU really care about that?

CLIENT: Yeah, my mom will be on my back if I can't get it to open.

ANALYST: WELL ISN'T THAT A SHAME?

CLIENT: Fuck, you're an asshole dude *background voice: JOHN MICHAEL, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE*

ANALYST: *laughs*

CLIENT: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING TO MY SON?

ANALYST: Hey ma'am! Can I have your computer ID?

CLIENT: What ID?

ANALYST: The computer ID, which grants you access...to your computer.

CLIENT:I have no such thing sir.

ANALYST: All Anacom Solutions employee do

CLIENT:Not me, I'm just a secretary.

ANALYST: You do have one...and I need it to help you.

CLIENT:Ok I hand the phone back to my son, he'll find it for you.


-CLICK-

Vintage Videos:Sikhs are awesome

There is a weird prejudice in American about how Sikhs are serious, mystic people, entirely devoted to their religion. After all, if they wear all that apparatus, they must be damned intense huh?

Well yeah they are intense, but they also rock. Check out the video and the pic ahead for the Sikh idea of having a good time! Enjoy!

Voices...Death Clock

Hello readership!
Today I decided to explore an idea I had within me for a few years, but never took time to put words into. It's just a stream of action, nothing very definite, just this thing that I keep thinking about. It's a bit morbid, so I thought it would make a good short story.

Death Clock

Every time it happened, it was always the same way. He picked up a newspaper, skimmed all the way to the obituary and found an abnormally long one about the person who he felt was about to die. Thank god this didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was a nightmarish situation. He’d first sense something about the person. Something like a disturbance, like a dark veil over them when they were living their everyday life. They kept smiling, but their eyes were sad. They kept seeing their friends but they felt more and more estranged, alone. When they were going to bed, their sleep became thick and dreamless. Not anyone of them was prepared or knew what was happening. But Donovan knew. He knew their soul was already starting to die and wither away.

None of it was natural. When they died, it was always accidental, provoked and very painful. Suicides, car accidents, murders, the kind of death and induces long period of pain and misery for the siblings of the dead. It was also painful for him, being engulfed in this wall of shame and guilt.

He first thought he was the one making them die. That this obituary dream was somehow sucking the vital energy off these endangered people. Throughout the years, Donovan was forced to recognize that destiny seemed to choose the ill fated and that his role was a lot smaller than he would have first though. He also met that fact when he tried to suck the vital energy out of Craig Kinney in college. Donovan was a chosen witness of the tragedy of natural selection. He was given an acute sensibility to the dying and was able to “smell death” as he liked to say it.

Donovan was starting to get used to his gift. When he met a doomed soul, he just turned around, denied it and tried to forget about that person until she died. He usually had the dream a few days before it actually happened. He just skimmed and skimmed through the newspaper until the page showed itself up. The obituary was actually an article describing the person’s death. His heartbeat was transformed into pounding drums that followed him when he woke up. Just a crescendo, getting more and more intense as he was getting more nervous. As they were alarming, these dreams were just dreams. Plus, Donovan stopped reading the obituaries in the newspaper. Heck, he wasn’t reading newspaper at all anymore.

Despite the struggle he had to keep his sanity for a few years, things were rather normal for Donovan. He worked in a car shop, doing paint jobs. He was starting to get a bit of a reputation. He liked to do complicated stuff and the focus needed to get some of the special requests done made him forget about his condition for a few hours, sometimes about a whole day. As he was left alone when doing the paint job, he didn’t have to bear the presence of potential victims of destiny. The guys at work were great for that. They were good, lively companions, but none of them were friends. Donovan didn’t like to have friends. He thought it was right for him to stay alone.

It would have been good if one day, he didn’t dream about Shannon’s obituary. Shannon was buried in a distant past. It had been four years since he left Poughkeepsie for New York, but it felt to Donovan as it had been forty. It struck a distant chord, just seeing her name in his dream felt like listening to a good song he forgot about. Shannon Driscoll.

He had put an X on her when he moved. She was going her way, he was going his. Things never materialized between them. She liked him, thought he was a very kind and selfless individual, but he was creepy. Everyone of the friends thought so. In the long run, she lost interest and got involved with Sean Maltby instead. She didn’t have the uplifting conversations with Sean that she used to have with Donovan, but he was funny and a lot cuter.

Donovan put this on his condition and just moved on. She was in the back of her mind for a while, but the slow thud of everyday life got the better out of Shannon Driscoll. She drifted away like a piece of wood in high seas. That piece was washed ashore by the dream. Donovan first thought it was his subconscious being mean. He decided though not to take any chances and to go to Poughkeepsie for the first time in four years after his day at work. They were Friday, so timing was perfect.

While driving, Donovan realized something. It was the first time he tried to challenge lady destiny. He always lived a slave to these premonitions, always going with them, rather than fighting them. Maybe that was what life had for him? Saving people from their demise, maybe these dreams were a warning, more than a bad omen. He started to feel very guilty, thinking about the people he could have saved. Marvin Erickson, Jalon Stotters, Linda Barclay. He may have been able to do something for them. He stepped on the gas pedal.

Donovan’s mother told him a few months before that Shannon bought a house with Sean in one of the blue collar parts of Poughkeepsie. Sean was a steel worker; he wanted a house near the factory and near his friends. Donovan found that weird. When he used to talk with Shannon she always told him how she wanted to make it big in New York, going to Broadway, make her luck. He knew it was probably small talk, but he saw her being everything but Poughkeepsie bound.

This was it. 1445 Tallon Street. It was a small house surrounded in other similar colonial style small houses. This part of town was renowned for its strange and depressing night life, full of alcoholic and low lives. “Now what?” he asked himself. He felt moved by a sense of urgency, but he started thinking he was an idiot for making all this road without knowing exactly what was going on. He decided to think a little as he could and to follow this instinct, guiding him like a navigation beacon. It was directing him to the house. The car was not there, the lights were off. They had probably gone out or maybe Sean did and Shannon was sleeping in the bedroom.

He tried his luck, parked his car and hopped in the yard. The silence surrounding it was appealing to his inner death sense. He risked a peak into the living room window. Nothing but couches and a flat screen TV. He couldn’t help but notice how minuscule that place was. He asked himself what was the point of it as it was not bigger than an apartment and yet a lot more expensive.

Donovan asked himself where could be the bedroom. There was a small porch behind the house with a patio door. He knew a simple screwdriver could get through this. As he wiggled the lock open, he felt the cold touch of steel at the base of his neck. And then nothing.

“Sean! Sean! I got a robber! I got a robber trying to break into your house Sean!”, Travis O’Dowd yelled while banging at the door. He stepped over Donovan’s corpse and walked into the house. “SEAN! WHERE YOU AT MY BOY?”. The house was reeking of one of the most atrocious smells Travis ever had the displeasure to experience.
When he walked into the corridor Travis knew he wouldn’t find Sean in this house. He wouldn’t find anything there anymore. A foot, a trace of blood on the door.

Travis O’Dowd took his car and left town.

Manly Video Game Review: Uncharted Drake`s Fortune

This blog was going to be for fiction writing, but as it is also made to promote myself for a potential video game writing blog well...I thought I better show that I knew a thing or two about video games...and more important...that I had a quite unique vision about them...and I think I do...so...this is it!


Understand me. I was never supposed to play this game. As the PS3 always had been a surefire stop of my buy list, when I saw Uncharted Drake's Fortune promo for the first time I was like:

Aw shit! Not another one of these hip-thrusting-eco-touring-sexy-Indiana-Jones-wannabee!

I'm not a fan of Indiana Jones. I find that treasure hunting should be left to pirates. Other than that it's just a subconscious transvestite desire for men to wear funky jewelry. I can see the questions in your eyes. You're asking me:

Ben, you manliest man of them all...what convinced you of playing a game not based on shooting shit, blowing stuff up and running over people with all means of transportation known to mankind?

Well, readership, that is a very good questions. As a manly man, I get easily baited by the simple joys of male bonding. Drinking beer with friends can be only topped by drinking beer with friends while playing video games...So my new video games enthusiast neighboor knocked on my door a few weeks ago and started to ramble about Uncharted 2:Among Thieves, saying it was going to be awesome and that I needed it so we could play co-op together. As I was going to say I wasn't a fan of hip-thrusting Nathan Drake, he cut me short with the very manly:

AH KAMAN! IT'S GOING TO BE AWESOME, WE'LL SHOOT SHIT TOGETHER!

He had a point. Shooting shit can be only made more awesome if you do it while high fiving someone. So I was all for it, but as I'm an anal bastard about details I felt I couldn`t buy the sequel without playing through the original game. So with the help of my good friend Renaud (and his copy of the game), I had ten days of my busy time to try to race to completion. Mission accomplished...here are my thoughts:

Let's get something out of the way first. The graphics. It takes more than graphics to impress me in a game. I thought Myst, Riven, Myst Harder, etc. were a complete was of time. I also have sour balls about the fact that I don't have a LCD TV yet, so you know, yes, the graphics look good, the water effects specially. Being wet has never looked better than on Nathan Drake. But unlike the rest of mankind, I have complaints about the graphics, that are directly linked to the level design.

It's simple and formulaic. As I understand and appreciate the idea of Naughty Dog, to do something simple but very well, they could've done something better than ripping off Tomb Raider's scenery and every shooter's level design. We got some really heavy clichés to go through like the unbearable battle in the dock among the crates, the horrific underground laboratory, etc. As they arrive pretty late in the game after a quite fresh and original start, I put this on imagination running out. In terms of level design it starts from 'very original' to 'very cliché' but with a tasteful final, so it's all good. As graphics are refined Tomb Raider scenery, they have a feeling of Deja Vu.. Not my favorite aspects of the game.

As for what's good now...writing! I was not expecting that. Very good, well crafted writing by the Naughty Dog people. A very pleasant surprise to say the least. First the characters. Nathan Drake is not as empty as I thought, he is also vain, prone to stupid comments and to put himself in trouble (without spoiling I'd just say...the airplane scene). That made him still a cliché but a lot less cardboard than the generic bad ass we're usually having as a hero. As I'm pretty convinced that clichés (read archetypes) are necessary as a video game protagonist, well there are refreshing ones. Nathan Drake is one of them.

The other people of the cast are a bit more generic. Helena is an interesting female counterpart as she seems normal. No spandex, no big titties. no bra, no shorts, just attitude...and good looks that is not really my type! That made her relevant to the game, which is not the case of most female side kicks. Would Naughty Dog respect women? Times are changing in video games. Vic Sullivan is straight out of an Indiana Jones movie...as are the bad guys...so Nathan Drake and Helena are bearing the game on their shoulders...and are quite masterfully doing so.

Two very interesting details. First, the sounds. Straining and panic sounds from Nathan Drake...it was very humane and very uncommon to video games to hear him go:

Ggnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn Huf! when swinging from ledges

and do a

Wo Wo Wo Woooooooooooo! while running from a grenade.

These are smallish details, but they made a big difference for me, they put Drake further from the stone cold bad ass even more. As Drake is alone for a good part of the game, seeing him speak to himself and verbalizing his fear, made him a lot more human, so a lot more enjoyable. I would also not pass under silence the verbal consternation from the friendly AI everytime you plunge to your death. Very realistic and engrossing. Congrats Naughty Dog!.

The storyline is also very solid despite being very Indiana-Jonesish. It makes sense and there is a few plot twists around the way. Without spoiling anything I could resume it as: Nathan Drake is a descendant of pirate Francis Drake...and wants to retrieve the Eldorado treasure, what his ancestor failed to do. Simple enough? Straight forward? Yes, but effective.

Last but not least...the gameplay. I have a love/hate relationship with the gameplay in Drake's Fortune. There are many good and many bad elements. There are three fronts to analyze here:Shooting, platforming and puzzles.

Shooting is awesomely accurate. This is one of my favorite shooting systems in all games ever. You can take cover, run & gun do whatever you feel like! Close quarters can get troublesome as some of the later foes will dry hump you during reloading times. The shooting action is also terribly paced. You flow smoothly through a level and then...WHAM, you get prisonner of a killzone where ennemies keep spawning on you as if you were Gordon Freeman or something. Retarded amount of ennemies in every killzone makes it a lot less enjoyable than astutely placed ennemies along the way. Shooting action is like driving a Cadillac in bad shape. Very accurate, but very stop & go.

Platforming is very original...if you take into account that it's all from Tomb Raider's matrix. Unlike the graphic, it grows from there. It's most often embezzled into the puzzling action. You often have half of the pieces and you have to use you head to get the whole portrait of what's going on. Drake's Fortune offers the gamer a very instinctive platforming/puzzling experience, which, alongside with the writing, made the game for me.

A little footnote to say that the platforming mechanics are sometimes frustrating. You don't jump where you aim to. Which will most often get you to jump into the deep abyss, triggering the aforementioned concerned comments from the friendly AI. Frustrating, but this doesn't overcome the pleasure I had playing game.


So, is Drake's Fortune any good? Fuck me, yes it is. Very good even. Does it have that soul-stealing quality that I search for in my timeless classic? No it doesn't. It's very good, enjoyable, but it dosen't succeed in melting the distance from the gamers. Why? Well, Nathan Drake, despite being quite likeable after all, is strutting through this adventure with a grace that just makes it hard to relate to. He dosen't have any problems, he's just another one of these greedy dudes. He's just on the good side. You don't relate to him anyhow. That's what I think distances Nathan Drake from timeless greatness...which the likes of Carl Johnson, Tommy Vercetti and Gordon Freeman achieved for exemple. Drake's Fortune
is a technical challenge, an eye-popper and an above average tale, but it won't stick with you. I bought Uncharted 2:Among Thieves yesterday, I heard it's superior in every way to the first...so I start it tonight you should hear feedback from me soon.

ACES

-Ideal shooting system.

-Surprisingly humorous.

-Well implemented physics in platforming.

FAILS

-Clogged gunplay sequences.

-No tension at all, the game is Nathan Drake's smooth handling of dangerous treasure hunters.

-Weird camera angles can make platforming frustrating.



Uncharted: Drake's Fortune:B+

Law Of The Gun 005: "Castles Of Glass"

Allison was a smart girl. Smart enough to get that the presence of this stranger at her breakfast table wasn’t any good. If things would’ve been good and normal she would’ve been eating breakfast with Liz right now, not some kind of used up, overly polite home invader.

“Who are you and where’s my dad?” she asked in a tone that usually got her what she wants.

The man in the suit smiled.

“Such a strong character, you couldn’t be anything else but Larry’s daughter.”

“You’re not answering!”, she said, trying to increase the pressure on the stranger.

“Why do you care?” said the stranger, losing his smile and his polite manners, for a more rugged approach: “Aren’t you angry at him because he got Jerome arrested?

"Didn’t you wish he was gone when you woke up?”.

Allison was shocked. He guessed exactly how she felt this morning. He was a very keen individual or simply a mind reader. She believed in that. Allison Shaw believed in mind reading, spirits and witchery. She had been a Wiccan for a brief period when she was fourteen.

She looked at the man, not sure if she could even think anymore. He just repeated the question he first asked: “Allison. What do you know about your father?”

“I know he’s working for the FBI….that he was in the army for a long long time…he’s nice sometimes…” she said, realizing her dad might be under a serious threat.

“Do you even know his name?” he asked.

“Larry. Larry Shaw.” Allison answered, naturally regaining a little attitude.

The stranger smiled again. That disturbing, crazed smile she already hated.

“My father is named Lawrence Joseph Shaw, what’s funny about it?” she said, annoyed.

“Your father’s name is Michael Penske.”, the strange said, seriously.

“No, no you got the wrong house sir, my father is Lawrence Shaw.”

“Your dad changed his name after the Kossovo deployment in 1999. He was scared you wouldn’t buy into it; you were six years old already. Old enough to think on your own, a thing that I can see you’re doing well right now.”

Allison was feeling panic slowly invade her body. It was like a colony of ants, walking up her stomach exploring every spot of her body. Soon, her heart started beating fast, she started to lose focus on the stranger and thoughts started racing in her brain. Things that were long forgotten, buried by time and dust were resurfacing. Michael Penske, why was that name so familiar to her?

Allison was under the impression that she always knew that name. Was it from a TV show? Was it from a dream? It had that distant connotation of familiarity that could only belong to something from another world. It couldn’t be her father. He had memories that were from before 1999. A few of them, mostly involving her mother, but still, she had memories of her dad too. She remembered him in uniform. She used to find him so strong and imperial when wearing it.

She remembered being in his arms, feeling the security and trust a little girl usually have for her father. She remembered playing with him also. He would play bowling games with her using this plastic set of bowling pins she got from a friend at her birthday. “Another strike!” he would say. As the pins were almost falling by themselves on the soft carpet of the living room. They were so tightly put together that a simple contact was good enough to make them fall. “Another strike for…”

“…Jill”

That smile again.

“My name is Jill Penske.”

“I see that some things were buried pretty deep”, the stranger said, with a strangely compassionate tone in his voice.

Allison started to cry. Tears of confusion, fear. She didn’t know who she really was. This house, which she thought was her home, suddenly seemed alien to her, it was part of the lie she just discovered.

“Why?” she asked, hoping the stranger would give her more of an answer.
“I don’t know, he was probably trying to be a good father, after all he did, you were probably the only way out for him, the only was he could redeem himself was to give you a nice, safe…and rather posh upbringing”, the stranger said looking around him, impressed by the size of the kitchen.

“You should probably eat” he added: : “You don’t look good.”

“I’m not hungry” said Allison.

He got up and went to the counter. He started pouring cereals in a bowl. He put some milk and a little drop of honey in it:

“Here you go, I put you some honey in it, these shitty health cereals are always better with some honey in it. That’s how my mother made me eat them when I was your age.”

Allison tried to get a better reading at her interlocutor. Dad told her how to do that. Staring intensely into someone’s eyes allowed you to read their soul. He used to say that the eyes are the hole in someone’s armor. No one could completely shield their eyes from an insistent enough gaze. Even if the body wouldn’t move, the eyes were like a window on what was truly happening inside someone.

When looking at the stranger, she had the impression of looking at a leathery mask. The fact that he was standing up over her under the neon lighting of the kitchen gave him shadow zones around the eyes and make him completely impossible to read. He seemed to her like a dangerous man, but she also felt that he wouldn’t do anything bad to her. He was too relaxed, too friendly, too natural to be a psychopath.

She ate a few spoonfuls and he went on and grabbed his coat. He told her: “Get your things together young girl, we have a long day ahead.”
She got up, threw the rest of the cereals to the garbage and said: “And you, who are you?”

He smiled, this time without the teeth, which made him a little more loveable.

“My parents always told me never to follow stranger…and considering the wreckage you already did this morning I think you owe me at least a name.”

“Fine, call me Harry” he said. “I always liked that name…and you…how should I call you now?”

“Jill”.

“Why? You don’t like Allison anymore? It’s a pretty name.”

“Yes, but Jill is my name.”

The Specialist: Episode 07

Ladies and gentlemen...you made him the superstar of this blog...here he is in all his glory...ROGER SPIVEY, THE HELPDESK ANALYST!


9:56 AM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Yeah, I can't use the corporate MSN...

ANALYST: Can I have your computer ID please?

CLIENT:R243S435

ANALYST:Mr. Sexus?

CLIENT:Yeah

ANALYST: Are you getting an error message?

CLIENT:As a matter of fact yes...Error 446, browser fail.

ANALYST:Oh, what browser do you use on your computer?

CLIENT:Google Chrome

ANALYST: Sir you have to have Internet Explorer as your default browser, if not, the corporate MSN will crash.

CLIENT:But it is my default browser.

ANALYST:...mmm...no. Google Chrome is.

CLIENT:No, I did not made it my default browser.

ANALYST:Yes, by downloading it, you did.

CLIENT:But...but...I fail to see how it`s relevant, it`s another program.

ANALYST:Your Coporate MSN is trying to start up using Google Chrome.

CLIENT:But...you don't make any sense.

ANALYST:...

CLIENT:Hello?

ANALYST: WHAT do you NOT understand?

CLIENT:What does Google Chrome have to do with my problem?

ANALYST: Let me rephrase that...YOU downloaded Google Chrome. Corporate MSN is triggering using the defautl browser...but it needs it to be Internet Explorer, if not, it`s going to crash

CLIENT:This is stupid.

ANALYST: These are two Microsoft products sir, they go together. Like pieces of a puzzle. You might not like that, but that's Microsoft`s business plan. I'm pretty sure they don't care.

CLIENT: So you mean I'm forced to use Internet Explorer as my default browser?

ANALYST: Yes, it's your work computer you shouldn't use anything that's not there already.

CLIENT: Don't tell me what to do pal!

ANALYST: Listening is not your forte huh?

CLIENT: What?

ANALYST: Are you one of these rebellious spirits that likes to defines themselves by the choice of their internet browser?

CLIENT: What?

ANALYST: Say what one more time! I dare you!

CLIENT: Wha...YOU MAKING FUN OF ME?

ANALYST: Yes

CLIENT: You're a sad and pathetic looser that works in a call center, I don't know why you would make fun of me.

ANALYST: It dosen't make sense right? You hyper-rational egghead.

CLIENT: No really, you're a fucking dunce that cannot troubleshoot his way out of a paperbag. I don't even know why I lost my time with you.

ANALYST: Well too bad it's part of the Anacom Solutions official documentation. If you would've read it instead of jerking off to math problems...maybe, well maybe you would be chatting on the corporate MSN right now.

CLIENT: What Official Documentation?

-CLICK-

12:17 PM

We pick this call up in action...

ANALYST: So what I'll try to do now is to apply an Office fix that is known to repair the kind of issue you're having. It's home made so it will trigger a small security alert but there`s nothing to be scared of.

CLIENT: Hum hum...

ANALYST: All right it's done, would you please try to run Word again?

CLIENT: Sure...hmmm....HAHA! YOU SUCK!

ANALYST: What?

CLIENT: Ah come on you gotta keep it interesting right?

ANALYST: I guess...let me try my backup solution.

CLIENT:Go ahead...

ANALYST:...damn...I usually kill that error message

CLIENT:haha...yeah right...

ANALYST:Do you find it funny not be able to work?

CLIENT:No, but I find it funny that you keep failing.

ANALYST:Oh yeah?

CLIENT:Yeah, remember you gotta keep it interesting.

ANALYST:Oh yeah...sure...you're being really interesting right now.

CLIENT:Is it me or I smell sour balls?

ANALYST:If I was you, I'd consult a doctor, something is not right with your nose.

CLIENT:Hey!

ANALYST: Gotta keep it interesting!

CLIENT:Gotta keep it professional also.

ANALYST: You tell me that!

CLIENT: No no...I can joke around I'm your client. I can make fun of you all I want. Your job is to take it.

ANALYST: My job is to troubleshoot your computer not to take your boring-ass shit.

CLIENT: I wanna talk to your manager with foul-mouthed dipshit.

ANALYST: My manager is down with a case of diphteria. You'll have to deal through me.

CLIENT: You're lying, I wanna talk to your manager NOW!

ANALYST: No!

CLIENT: NOW!

ANALYST: How about that instead. I hang up the phone and I leave you with your stupid administrative assistant problem not be able to work.

CLIENT: YOU MOTHERFUCKER!

-CLICK-

4:40 PM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Hey hem...I'm looking for the fax.

ANALYST: On your desk?

CLIENT: Huh?

ANALYST: Well it can't be that far.

CLIENT: On my machine I mean.

ANALYST: On your PC? You don't have a fax on your PC.

CLIENT: No?

ANALYST: But you might want to test the coffee machine.

CLIENT: There's a coffee machine on this.

ANALYST: Yeah!

CLIENT: Where is it?

ANALYST: Go down the building and go to the local Starbucks.

-CLICK-

Voices....Jane Elisabeth Walker

Hey folks,

I'm going to change my aim a little bit here. The Mondays are going to change their purpose. As I don't hate that many bands, Cracking Down was starting to loose some steam. In fact, whatever style you do, if you rock to it as hard as you can, there is a good chance I like your music. So, therefore...the need for a change was getting there on Monday.

So here is my new formula. It's called: "Voices". It's a very simple concept. Every week, I'll write a different story, which will mainly be OR an action OR character developpement OR dialogue. It will have around 1000 words every time. It will have no other restraint...but maybe to be prose...no poetry, no column...just fiction.

The kick off for this week is inspired by an ex-girlfriend of mine who went Norman Bates on me a few years ago before disappearing into the past. A few weeks ago I had a dream where she was in an institution. If we take this at a wider range, I guess it could be interpreted as a tale about the dangers of young adulthood a theme that I love!!! Just sit back, relax and enjoy:

Jane Elisabeth Walker

Ah, look at all the lonely people

Jane is signing in front of the mirror.

Ah, look at all the lonely people…

Tonight is the big night she worked so hard for. Tonight she’ll finally be a princess. Oh it wasn’t an easy road. It wasn’t well traveled neither. But all that work will come to fruition. Tonight, Dwight is picking her up at seven to go to the prom.

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream…waits at the window…

She liked that song, Eleanor Rigby, her mother used to sign it while rocking her when she was young. She loved that feeling, that security of rocking against her mother’s body. Signing it was quite soothing for Jane Elisabeth. It remembered her of that warm, relaxing moment with mommy. A time when she felt invincible.

When she was done with her make-up, she looked at herself in the room’s vanity one more time, in contemplation. She worked so hard at being beautiful.

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?

Jane is happy, she wishes that moment lasts forever.

Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear…

After the prom, she would become a lawyer. Not a cold and greedy one, but a passionate one who helps the kids and the needy. The good kind of lawyers, like in these movies she saw. That would invest their lives into helping the others and find love in a ruthless co-worker who will be inspired by her selfless work. Dwight was a nice boyfriend, but he was a pure intellectual. She couldn’t live her life next to someone who wants to be a pure spirit, this is not the real world. She was not important enough for him. He was nice, but he wasn’t what love destined for Jane Elisabeth.

All the lonely people…

She had the most beautiful dress and she went such a long way since the days of Piggy Walker. She wasn’t Piggy anymore. She was Jane…or J. Elisabeth Walker as she planned to use for a professional name. Oh, such excitement. As she was double checking the last details, she saw the reflection of Charlie’s face in the vanity.

She didn’t like Charlie. He was a meanie. Even if she worked so hard to become who she was today, Charlie kept making Jane feel like Piggy. He was a stupid boy. Jealous of her happiness, of her status among her peers. He was just an unhappy boy in a blue suit, roaming the corridors of their house.

“Jane, what’chu doin’?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

“Get out Charlie, I have to get ready, Dwight will be there soon.” Jane answered,
clearly irritated.

Charlie rolled his eyes and put his back against the door of her room.

“What? Get out!” she said.

“Jane, it’s time to go to bed.” , he said.

“What? But it’s only seven! Dwight will be there soon, he’ll take me to the prom.

He’ll have an orchid for me.”, she said, laughing.

“Why are we going over this every time Jane Elisabeth? You go to bed at seven, because you wake up at five. Doctor Grimsley gives you that curfew because you have sleep disorder. Aren’t you taking your medication?” Charlie said, grumpily.

The notion of Doctor Grimsley was vaguely unpleasant. She couldn’t pinpoint who he was, but it awoke a flow of images in her mind. She saw the blood, she was the worried look on daddy’s face…she saw that old, wrinkled, dry man looking at her with a cold pity.

“I can’t go to bed, what is Dwight going to think? He’s going to think that I’m crazy” told Jane with a loud, nervous noise, trying to get Charlie out of her way.

“Jane, Dwight is dead. You killed him. You’re living in this fantasy because it was the best moment of your life. Snap out of it, just accept who you are and what you’ve done.”

Jane started to screaminguncontrollably. She threw herself at Charlie throwing blind windmill punches. Charlie took her by under the arms and pulled her away from the bathroom. She was kicking the air and trying to bite Charlie’s arm. Thank god he was wearing his vest. These were the blocking mechanism Doctor Grimsley said. Every time she was confronted to what happened, she’d violently block it, wind up the clock and start again where she was happy and unassuming.

Jane Elisabeth Walker came to Silver Heights a year ago after she was judged unapt for criminal prosecution. She was suffering of extreme nervous exhaustion following her failure at an exam in criminal law class at University Of Washington. Her mother told Doctor Grimsley that she could never adapt to the competitive world of law students. The long hours, the jealousy, the inner politics. She was raised in a very calm and protected environnement.

What Charlie could never understand was why she killed that poor fellow Dwight Hartman. After all, SHE dumped him for a greater life in the big city. But no, she killed him, she stabbed him eighty-eight times in the back as he was calmly writing while listening to music in the living room. The poor girlfriend of Dwight got one hell of a show when she got back in from her aerobics class. She found her man shred into pieces and the bloody Jane signing some Beatles song on the couch, all covered in blood. She had the good reflex and left the apartment before Jane could understand what was going on.

As horrible as it was sometimes it was still fascinating for Charles Connolly to work with these people. As a security guard for now, but his classes were almost done and Doctor Grimsley told him he could do his internship at Silver Heights. He wished he could have Jane Elisabeth as a patient. She was irritating at times, but he has empathy for her.

He looked at her on the floor of the padded cell and remembered the picture from her file. The prom picture with Dwight Hartman. She was beautiful on it. A bit chubby, but well deserving of the Prom Queen title she got. Now she kept walking around on that torn up dress, she must have taken fifty pounds, he flaccid greenish skin made her look even sicker that she already was.

After a few seconds of total inertia, she got up, looking around like an injured dog. She got up and took a few step towards the window of the cell. She was looking towards Charlie, but he knew she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at her reflection…again.

I look at all the lonely people…

“Here we go again “, said Charlie…”I need another coffee….He got back to his office, calmly whistling the melody of Eleanor Rigby.

Law Of The Gun Episode 004: "Up Close & Personal"

It was hard to get a distinctive idea of Captain Walter Tatum at first glance. He didn’t look like John Rambo. This tall, skinny man, handcuffed to the parlor table on the other side of the window, calmly smoking a cigarette was looking rather harmless.

He was shaven clean; his hair had also been cut. His skin was yellowish looking under the fluorescent light. He looked tired; there were huge bags under his eyes, making them almost disappear in all that darkness. He seemed calm and collected though. He was quietly smoking, looking at Doctor Travers from his impenetrable gaze. The rap sheet mentioned that too, that Tatum liked to play the intimidation card a lot. Simon knew he made himself vulnerable by stopping in the doorstep to reckon his battlefield. Tatum would interpret it as a sign of weakness. Simon was determined to bend the Captain to his will, so he begun the conversation very aggressively:

“So, how does it feel?” he said, throwing his folder on his side of the parlor table.

“How does what feel?” said Walter, with a disarming calm amusement in his voice.

“Being the one that’s trapped.”, answered Simon.

“Oh, I don’t take it personal.” said Walter, with a grim smile.

Simon had a nervous laugh. Tatum was facing death penalty and he seemed to feel awkwardly comfortable with his situation. This was clashing with the strong, controlling personality he was briefed about. Tatum seemed to go with the flow, so Simon decided to push the aggressiveness a little further. He needed to destabilize his subject in order to take total control of the situation:

“So what d’you think about these charges Walter? You scared of the death penalty?” Simon asked, betraying a little anxiety.

Walter took a pause before answering : “Oh, not much Doc…not much.”

“What do you mean not much? A proud soldier like you, aren’t you scared to go out like this?” asked Simon.

“No, not really, I don’t think I’ll get prosecuted…and if I do, there is no way of proving whether I killed Colonel Patterson or not. There is no evidence, no witnesses, all you got is confused, circumstantial witnesses. You think it’s going to fly in court? I don’t think so.” , said Walter, as if he had a prepared answer.

“What I know is that you are accused of killing your commanding officer Captain”, said Simon, “usually, it’s not well looked upon by martial law.”

“I can see where you’re getting at doctor. I’ll tell you then that as you might know, my wrap sheet is a lot more impressive than Patterson’s and despite his rank, it’s not likely that I’ll be spared over an academic issue like this. Face it doc, I’m useful. You don’t throw useful stuff to the garbage without a valid reason.”,
said Walter, conscientiously pounding his cigarette butt into the ashtray.

“Killing your C.O isn’t a valid reason to you?”

“Therein lies the beauty of it doc, I didn’t kill Patterson. Heck, I don’t even know who did.”

“Come on, everyone saw you argue on that night.”

“So? What the hell does that prove? Testimonies cannot even concur on a single course of actions. For all that we know Robert Patterson could still be alive for all we know.”

“He’s been legally declared dead”

“He disappeared, there is no clear evidence he got murdered.”

“If you don’t think he got murdered, tell me, why did you dived in the river and disappeared yourself when returning to base?” said Simon, happy, feeling he’s touching the heart of a very important affair.

“Because we did argued on that night doc, and I did shoot Colonel Patterson in the leg.” Answered Walter, with ,what seemed to Simon, the rational passion of a debater.

“Why did you shoot Colonel Patterson in the leg, Captain?” asked Simon, staring into Walter’s distant gaze.

“Because he was endangering the mission, I took the necessary force to stop him from betraying General Tallon’s orders.”

“And what was that mission Captain Tatum?”

“Make Iraq secure again.”

“D’you think the US Military succeeded?”

“No, doc I don’t.”

“Do you still believe in the military?”, Simon damned himself silently for asking that question. It served no purpose but to satisfy his own curiosity. It was passion-driven, not rational.

Walter smiled, as if he knew it, as if he smelled the confusion in Simon. He did not wait for Simon to back track and answered the question with pleasure: “I do believe in the military, yes, do I believe in the US Army? No. It’s been seven years all we’ve been doing is spreading fear and destruction on the surface of the planet. Tell me, Doc, how does it feel to be a part of this misery machine? Does it feel righteous to try to pin me down because I defended a poor, Arabic kid with no education from the gun of a racist pig? Does it feel right to do what you’re being told and not think for yourself?”

“I don’t have to answer your questions Walter, I’m leading the discussion here.”, Simon said impassively.

“You don’t lead anything doc, not even this conversation. Look at me…I’m telling you right now…I’ll be out of this hospital within the next five days, walking on the US street like a free citizen. When you’ll receive my postcard, think about the guy you thought killed a Colonel. This guy will be home when you, the good, obedient soldier, will be freezing your ass in this shitty hospital.”
“This conversation is over Walter.” ,said Simon, picking up his folder, trying to stay calm and collected.

“Where is the “Captain” now Doc? Did I strike a nerve?” yelled Walter as Simon was quickly leaving the room.

Simon put his head against the door and took a deep breath. He had lost control of a discussion with a patient…it never happened to him before. It made him agitated. Who was this so called officer trying to play Socrates? What point was he trying to make? Why was he thinking he would be out In American street in the next five days as Simon asked to get transferred back on American soil for the last year and was denied every time. Who did he think he was?

The Specialist Episode 06

* Folks! I've been away for a little while now for a purpose of dog buying and dog training, but now that my amazing mutt is in house and under control, well...guess who's back? Roger Spivey! The magnificent IT Helpdesk Analyst *

10:10 AM

ANALYST:Thank you for calling IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:*Sobs*

ANALYST:Hello? Are you ok?

CLIENT:THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!!!!!!

ANALYST:AND THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU!

CLIENT:*sobs get louder*

ANALYST:No, seriously, what's up?

CLIENT:THE ANTS!

ANALYST:Ants? Like ants in the pants?

CLIENT:YEEESSS!!

ANALYST:Like, for real?

CLIENT:YEEES DO SOMETHIIIIIIING!

ANALYST:Like what? I work in a call center all across the country.

CLIENT: I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOooOOO...

ANALYST:Shit...have you tried smashing them?

CLIENT: I DON'T WANT TO TOUCH RED ANTS...

ANALYST:Oh yeah..Tucson caller...

CLIENT:YeeAAAH...I'm from Tuuuucsoon.

ANALYST:Oh I know, cleaning products!

CLIENT: I tried that allllready...it just slows them down *sobs again*

ANALYST:* Roger cracks up *

CLIENT: You're not of aaanny help.

ANALYST: I know, you need an exterminator ma'am!

CLIENT: But they're all over my computer keyboard.

ANALYST: So?

CLIENT: How am I supposed to go check my email?

-CLICK-

1:44 PM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Hey Roger, how are you doing?

ANALYST:Good sir, you?

CLIENT: Very good, Roggie boy, I got an easy one for ya.

ANALYST:Shoot pilgrim!

CLIENT: I like your style kid! I got this plug-in for Excel on Microsoft web site caled Kajagoogoo21, when I calculate an integral with it on Excel, it gives me an wrong result and an inverted curve on the graphic, what am I doing wrong?

ANALYST: Well first of all, downloading from Microsoft Web Site is extremely wrong. Anacom Solution has its own download engine...and there is like three allowed programs.

CLIENT: Tell me something I don't know...or better yet...try to help me for a change.

ANALYST: You want my help? YOU CAN'T HANDLE MY HELP!

CLIENT: Cut the bullshit idiot, what have I got to do?

ANALYST: Uninstall the plugin or get your computer formatted, HOW ABOUT THEM APPLES?

CLIENT:I told you to cut that out. Let me speak to your manager.

ANALYST: You don't want to do that!

CLIENT:Yes I do

ANALYST:Sure!

Transfer Line!

ANALYST 1:Hey Roger!

ANALYST 2:Hey Liam!

ANALYST 1:You want me to impersonate Travis again?

ANALYST 2:Travis, Hulk Hogan, John Rambo, or anyone who can shut that pop-culture junkie up.

ANALYST 1:What's the problem?

ANALYST 2:Dude downloaded a disallowed Excel plug-in and wants to bully me into making it work.

ANALYST 1:I hate bullies!

ANALYST 2:I know you hate bullies Liam! That's why I thought of you.

ANALYST 1:You're a good friend Roger, let me take care of that piece of shit.

ANALYST 2:You're the boss!

* Client's back online, Roger puts himself on mute *

ANALYST:Hello!

CLIENT:Hello sir!

ANALYST:So my employee is telling me you're wasting his time with disallowed Excel plug-ins?

CLIENT:I got administrative rights on my machine sir, I can do whatever I want with it, and it's your job to help me.

ANALYST:Yeah, this is America right?

CLIENT:Damn right son! I like your style!

ANALYST:Everyone can do what he wants in America right?

CLIENT:Exactly

ANALYST:Do you have a daughter?

CLIENT:Yes, why?

ANALYST:Can I have her phone number?

CLIENT:NO! She's a nice girl and she's going to marry soon! Leave her out of this.

ANALYST:BUT THIS IS AMERICA! I CAN TRY MY LUCK WITH HER, CAN I? MAYBE I'M THE MAN OF HER DREAMS. WHAT DO YOU KNOW HUH?* Roger and Hamid are laughing in the background *

CLIENT:MY DAUGHTER DOESN`T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE CONSTITUTION

ANALYST:NEITHER DOES MICROSOFT EXCEL, YOU WHITE TRASH PIECE OF SHIT!

-CLICK-

3:52 PM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT: I wonder if you can?

ANALYST: If you help me to help you, the sky is the limit ma'am.

CLIENT: I got problems with my phone.

ANALYST: What kind of problems?

CLIENT: It's dead.

ANALYST: I can hear you well.

CLIENT: I'm talking about my cell phone.

ANALYST: Oh, I can get you a replacement it`s probably the battery.

CLIENT: Oh great!

ANALYST: I need the tag number

CLIENT: Where can I find that?

ANALYST: On the phone.

CLIENT: I mean where on my phone?

ANALYST: There is a big white sticker with the TAG mention on it.

CLIENT: I don't have that.

ANALYST: Don't tell me you pried it off?

CLIENT:No, I just don't have anything

ANALYST: Yes you did, you just were a naughty girl and pried the damn thing off.

CLIENT: Don't call me naughty!

ANALYST: Then DON'T PRY THE COMPANY TAG NUMBER OFF THINGS DAMMIT!

CLIENT: Don't yell, it doesn't help our case here.

ANALYST: Yeah, you're right, I'm sorry...can I have the model, I can retrace it with that.

CLIENT:It's a blackberry Pearl.

ANALYST: What's the company doesn`t hand out this shitty model. Can I have your computer ID?

CLIENT:What?

ANALYST: Your computer ID, which is pretty much your Anacom Solutions ID!

CLIENT:I'm not calling Verizon?

-CLICK-

Law Of The Gun Episode 003: ''The Fat Guy''

Going to work wasn't fun anymore for Brandon. It had been a big pile of shit for months now. He never imagined it would come to this. When he started Viking Security with his childhood friends Ian and David, Brandon never imagined where it would lead him. Especially not in Iraq. All he was ever interested in was to make some money using the only thing he ever had for him. His size. Brandon Vickers was a big guy. He used to be 'the fat guy', but now that he was an adult and learned how to cultivate intimidation, he was just 'big'. Brandon was six foot four and three hundred and fifty pounds.

Security had been a natural for him. Viking security had started when him, Ian and David came out of high school. There all had long hair, beards and were metal music enthusiasts. Fourteen years later, Viking Security was held by three clean shaved guys and had become a reputable name in Washington D.C. They has over eighty employees and were specializing in sports events. Viking Security's biggest client was the Washington Capitals. They never had anything to do with politics. Never before 2001.

David came with the idea of going to Iraq. David was the money guy. He studied administration at night at the D.C community college. He was the main reason why Viking security was so successful. He was like a money radar. He could smell a good offer from a mile away. He was the one that got the gig for the Caps. Brandon's thing was cameras. He could get the best angles on the most difficult places to keep calm. He had a god gift for perspective and a great photographic memory. He also mastered the way to talk people out of doing things. He would always remember the day he talked a depressed janitor out of jumping down the roof of the Verizon Center. It was only two weeks he was working there and he had already saved a life. Ten years later, it was still the only life he saved on duty.

Brandon frequently talked of Carlos the janitor. That's how David sold him the idea of going to Irak: ''Over there man, you'll save a ton of lives. It's going to be exciting and we'll sit of a fucking tower of money We'll help people AND we'll be rich, how about that?''. Brandon argued he felt good about the work they were doing in D.C, that he didn't felt the need to save the world and fight wars that were not his, but he couldn't say no. It was an occasion for him. The opportunity he was waiting for. The opportunity for the fat guy to be a hero. The chance to make people see other things than his weight. So he said yes.

So Brandon and Ian flew over to Irak in 2004 as a private security consultant for the United States of America. David was supposed to fly in a few weeks later, but he never came. He said he was busy working on two fronts (US and Irak security), making jokes and all. Brandon thought David was scared, rightfully scared of what was lying ahead. There wasn't much life saving to do in Irak. Even when you extracted them from an exploded vehicle, the victims were to scarred by what they lived they were barely ressembling to anything human. This was completely another game. Brandon knew how to shoot, but it was not of any use. He was affected to guarding a warehouse in Tikrit. The storage was full of american ammo. Brandon had to brush off a few curious here and there, but most of the time, he just say in the camera room, looking at the troops getting blown up on the street.

When he came back from Irak at the end of 2005, things weren't fun anymore for Brandon. Of course he saved a few lives by sheltering people inside the warehouse he was protecting. But he saw so many people die unjustly, like dogs, in the street, Brandon didn`t wanted to do this anymore. When he came back to D.C, it was to stay in D.C. David yelled, threatened to kick him out of the company, to sue him, he even made physical threats to him. Brandon took his shit with a smile. Ian didn`t want to get involved so there was no choice but to smile and take it. He just stayed in the camera room at the Verizon Center, changed his cell phone number and tried to do his his job as good as he could so David wouldn`t have anything to say. From to 2006 to 2008, Brandon could count on his fingers the number of times he saw his associate.

When Brandon`s pay wasn`t put in his bank account last week, he didn`t say anything. He felt one of David Mallard's plans to try to infuriate him. He wouldn`t bite. He kept his mouth closed and waited for the next week. He wasn`t short of any money anyway. When money failed to arrive this week though, he thought it was exageration. Brandon took his car to his company`s head office, which was on the second floor of a multi-use building. They were situated over a grocery store, next to a pharmacy. In 1994 they were occupying only one room, in 2008 it was half of the building`s second floor.

Brandon was intrigued as no one seemed to be there at 9 AM. No cars were in their reserved section of the parking. They took a raise of a grand on their rent to get these parkings, so Brandon was ticked off when no one used it. He took the lateral starecase to the second floor, only to find himself confronted to a sealed shut door. There were two by fours nailed across. There was usually more than thirty people working in there on business days:
''...the fuck is going on'', Brandon murmured to himself, ''Mallard, what have you done...''

The Death Of Joe Cole Part 2

* here is part two of this intense scene moment *

Vintage Videos:Spirited Awakening

*You have to admire the spirited effort on the prankster...and the wicked retaliation that follows, 95% grade on the chair throw*

The Specialist Episode 05

* Here's the new episode of Dead End Follies most successful show THE SPECIALIST!!!11ONE *

9:10 AM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Hello Roger, how are you doing today?

ANALYST:I'm in a goooood mood ma'am. How about you?

CLIENT:I'm not.

ANALYST:OK, what can I do for you?

CLIENT:I'm having problems with Outlook again.

ANALYST: Yeah I can see that in your history, you've had...one..two..three,four,five,six,seven calls about Outlook in the last...day!

CLIENT:It just dosen't work when I work at home.

ANALYST:Hum hum...let's proceed methodically.

CLIENT:No, I'm tired of that. I'm not going to put up with this bullshit anymore.

ANALYST:What?

CLIENT:You heard me. I demand that you transfer me to a web based e-mail client right about now.

ANALYST:Hem...Anacom Solutions doesn't have web based clients ma'am. They are considered a security threat

CLIENT:I don't give a shit, my boyfriend told me I could transfer my stuff to a web based client whenever I want. This is my constitutional right.

ANALYST:Too bad by signing your Anacom Solutions contract you agreed not being a security breach, therefore not having a web based email client.

CLIENT:I don't give a shit.

ANALYST:Lady, the evils of the world won't be brushed away by closing your eyes and saying: 'I don't give a shit'. It's not gonna happen.

CLIENT:I'm pretty sure that if I hang up and get another receptionnist, he'll make me a web based account.

ANALYST:And get fired.

CLIENT:What do you know about it?

ANALYST:I don't know, maybe I've been working with these policies 40 hours a week.

CLIENT:But I'm fed up with Outlook.

ANALYST:Jesus, how old are you, five?

CLIENT:I wanna speak to your manager

ANALYST:My manager died last night so pay your respects.

CLIENT:What? You're bullshitting me.

ANALYST:No, you heartless bitch

CLIENT:It's not funny, I wanna talk to your manager and get you fired.

ANALYST:For what? Respecting the company policies and not giving in to a nagging client? How about I get YOU fired.

CLIENT: Fuck you.

ANALYST: *talking to Hamid* What's the number to report security issues?

-CLICK-

12:51 PM

ANALYST:IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I help you?

CLIENT:Hello, I'm an Anacom Solutions salesperson, did I call the right number?

ANALYST:You absolutely did.

CLIENT:I'm having connections problem.

ANALYST:All right...Hamid? You free bro?...fuck I'll have to do this myself

CLIENT:Huh?

ANALYST:What's going on?

CLIENT:I was entering my monthly stats and I lost my connection...

ANALYST:What was the error message?

CLIENT:Client disconnected, but I didn't...

ANALYST:What's the hour on the PC right now?

CLIENT:Why does that matter?

ANALYST:You'll mess up remote connections if you change your hour.

CLIENT:It's 12:53..

ANALYST:And the date?

CLIENT:...March 14th...

ANALYST:But we're in July, why would you do this?

CLIENT: Well see...I didn't meet my quotas for the last months...so....

ANALYST:Wait a minute...

CLIENT:What?

ANALYST:Are you frauding you employer?

CLIENT:NO!

ANALYST:You're entering sales you never did! YOU'RE FRAUDING

CLIENT: NO WAY!

ANALYST:GUYS! GUYS! I HAVE A CON ARTIST ON THE PHONE, WHAT DO I DO? WHAT DO I DO? Hamid: Call the cops

CLIENT: No, you don't understand.

ANALYST: Don't understand what? Fraud?

CLIENT: No, things were not so good for me last Winter, things were bad with my boyfriend...

ANALYST: So you decided to fraud your way out?

CLIENT: Would you shut the fuck up with this? I didn't fraud.

ANALYST: You're so fired.

CLIENT: I wanna speak to your manager.

ANALYST: NO I WANNA SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!.

CLIENT: My manager is Bob Fickett.

ANALYST: You're so fired.

-CLICK-

1:24 PM

ANALYST: IT Helpdesk, my name is Roger, how can I...

CLIENT: I'm having problems with Excel.

ANALYST: Ok sir wha...

CLIENT: I searched Google for a solution already.

ANALYST: Is it a walkthr...

CLIENT: I'm really upset.

ANALYST: I can un...

CLIENT: Helpdesk is never of any help to me.

ANALYST: If you would just...

CLIENT: D'you think I missed a new patching fix?

ANALYST: It's a...

CLIENT: What if I try this....

ANALYST: What if..

CLIENT: Fuck what do I do now?

ANALYST: BITCH, GIVE ME YOUR COMPUTER ID!

CLIENT: HEY WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE.

ANALYST: HOW ABOUT YOU LET ME....

CLIENT:I DON'T NEED THIS NOW.

ANALYST: Fuck...your wife must se...

CLIENT:I'M AN IMPORTANT PERSON

ANALYST: Oh really? Like a VP?

CLIENT:Like a scientist. I cure cancer

ANALYST: You would cure your way out of...

CLIENT:If I try this formula...

ANALYST:FUCK YOU WANT HELP OR NOT?

CLIENT: I don't know.

-CLICK-

Vintage Videos:The Death Of Joe Cole Part 1

As promised, the dark and sad story of Henry Rollins's best friend death...

Cracking Down:Silverchair

HOLD IT!

Don't you guys even dare to try. I can see your two main complaints from a mile away. First of all, yes, this IS a picture of Silverchair. If you look closely you will recognize Daniel Johns in all his teen angst glory. Secondly, yes, as scary as it sounds, they are BACK. They probably ran out of money or something.

Don't get me wrong. This band has an interesting story and when they first came out with their album Frogstomp, I kind of dug them. These fourteen years old mutts doing their grungy rock thing. They were pretty cool. Pure Massacre is still an awesome song.

But...two things happened. Money and hormones. As Daniel Johns entered puberty he discovered chicks dug him so he said no to his masculinity and signed up for the troubled trans-gender rock star cliché role. As they were good earners (as Don Corleone would say), they got picked up by a major and got so fucking corporate that Jon Bon Jovi started to call them sellouts.

So, to celebrate their return, Cracking Down is making a trip ten years in the past and offers you....

ANTHEM FOR THE YEAR 2000

We are the youth
We'll take your fascism away

FUCK YEAH! ROCK!

We are the youth
Apologise for another day

Wait, what?

We are the youth
And politicians are so sure

Way to go not finishing your idea you uneducated youth!

We are the youth
And we are knocking on death's door

Hey Dan! Bob Dylan called, he wants his lyrics back.


With a mind that could be so sure
Never knew we were living in a world
With a mind that could be so small
Never knew we were living in a world

* Sorry, we are experiencing technical difficulties. The satyrical column will resume as soon as the writer is done laughing. *

And the world is an open court
Maybe we don't want to live in a world
Where innocence is so short
We'll make it up to you
in the year 2000 with...

..hihih...all right, all right...how tall is innocence supposed to be exactly..or how long is it supposed to last? And...what will you make up to us? Innocence? You want to color the sky pink and yellow with your teen angst?

Never knew we were living in a world
With a mind that could be so sure
Never knew we were living in a world
With a mind that could be so small
Never knew we were living in a world
And the world is an open court
Maybe we don't want to live in a world
Where innocence is so short

This is your bridge? Is that supposed to have some kind of political meaning? That's as meaninful as the Backstreet Boys signing 'I want it that way'

We'll make it up to you
In the year 2000
Build it up for you
In the year 2000
Make it up to you
In the year 2000
Build it up for you
In the year 2000 with you

You sure seem to want to take over in the year 2000 Danny. Too bad your band died in 2001. Now the only thing that shows up at your gigs are nostalgics groupies and ironic hipsters.

Never knew we were living in a world
With a world that could be so sure
Never knew we were living in a world
With a mind that could be so small
Never knew we were living in a world
And the world is an open court
Maybe we don't want to live in a world
World who cares at all

We'll make it up to you
In the year 2000
Build it up for you
In the year 2000
Make it hard for you
In the year 2000
Build it up for you
In the year 2000
Make it hard for you
In the year 2000
Build it up for you
In the year 2000 with you



What's with you and that relentless pounding of your message. You sound like an Arnold Schwartzenegger campaign. Empty and formulaic.

That's it guys, Silverchair in a nutshell...Rome in its downfall. Shitty rimes and failed puberty will lead you to unemployment office kids. Beware!

Law Of The Gun:Episode 002 "The Stranger In The Suit"

Morning was always a drag for Allison Shaw. Mornings are always a drag when you are sixteen anyway. It was even harder since her parents were starting to tail her daily activities. Having a father who works for the FBI isn’t the most relaxing thing on earth. Although Larry Shaw always tried to leave his family out of his work, when he saw his older daughter starting to hang out with low lives, he couldn’t resist but put himself in the way.

The day Allison started to date Jerome Wallace, Larry got King Oliver White arrested. White was allowed to do his drug traffic by the federal authorities in exchange for his information on Washington D.C’s underworld. When Larry arrested him, Jerome found himself without any smack to sell…and therefore any money to spoil Allison. She knew her dad was behind this. Larry somehow knew that she knew…and he was very happy about it. His job always forced him into a distant approach to his daughters, so he was delighted to be able to do something for one of them. Even if she didn’t realize it on the spot, she’d be thankful later.

As she made her way out of the shower, Allison heard the familiar and soothing breakfast ruckus downstairs. Plates clanging together, the fridge door getting slammed and the silence of her parents and two sisters with their mouth too full to usher a word. It would have been a morning like every other ones if Larry wouldn’t have got Jerome’s purveyor arrested. Allison was a bit reluctant at going downstairs and confront her dad. She could see his quiet and satisfied smile in her head. She’d just wait until he’d be gone to work. He was always leaving earlier than the rest of the family. Reason was that he was starting work at 7:30 AM.

Allison just went to her room and started preparing for her day, which was a step she used to perform after breakfast. She’d eat with her baby sister Elizabeth later on. A girls-only breakfast. Allison was satisfied of the idea as she hadn’t spent a quality moment with her baby sister in a long while. Since Liz started high school, she grew more distant to her big sister. She probably didn’t mean any wrong, but she just took a different way. Liz was a sporty, a soccer player. Allison always hated the sporties before her sister became one.

Allison wanted to be a big sister again so her plan was perfect. Skip the breakfast with mom and dad to be able to have better time with Liz. As she was applying the last touches of make-up in front of the mirror, she thought of herself as being mature and pretty smart for her age. That’s why an eighteen years old like Jerome saw some interest in her in the first place.

She opened the door of her room and listened. Just the faint sound of a single person, eating alone. Allison prayed it was not her father waiting for her to have a talk. She cautiously walked down the stairs and risked an eye in the kitchen. She did not see what she expected to. Not at all.

Sitting alone at the kitchen table was a man she never saw before. A short and stocky gray haired man. He was drinking coffee, eating a toast and reading Larry’s journal. The intruder had something very governmental about him. He was dressed in a suit and was wearing black leather gloves. In fact, every piece of clothing on him was black, except for his white silk shirt. His posture was very official too. The man, despite trying to look relaxed was sitting at a 90 degrees angle. Allison thought he looked somewhat like an ex-soldier.

That somehow reassured her as her father was. Larry Shaw had served in the army from 1990 to 1999. He retired after the Kossovo deployment with the title of Sergeant. Allison was herself born on a military base. Larry was really proud of his military career. The whole Shaw household was plastered with pictures and military decorations. That guy in the kitchen somehow fitted in the landscape so well that Allison was not scared of him. She walked to the kitchen and risked a shy and quiet: “Sir?”

The man lowered his journal and turned around with a very artificial smile: “Hey, Allison, sit down, there are some eggs left for you? You slept well last night?”
“Huh…yeah” Allison said, a bit freaked out but the intruder’s behavior.
“Not much to tell you the truth, but I’m a bit of an early bird, so it’s ok”, he said with this phony smile plastered on his face.

Allison sat at the table and examined her foe. He had a stocky, burly face and his traits were deep. He was probably a lot younger than he look, he just had been overexposed to elements, like dad and uncle Jim were. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would smile to anyone in a overly welcoming manner. In fact, his eyes were expressing cold focus and self-restraint. Suddenly, the stranger started to intimidate Allison pretty bad.

“Where’s my family?” she muttered.

“Liz is at school and your mother went to pick up her clothes from the dry cleaner on her way to work. They are fine. For them, today is just another day.” , the stranger said, looking at Allison in the eyes.

“And my dad?” Allison continued.

The stranger took a short pause and just ogled Allison for a few seconds and then said:

“Tell me little Ali, what do you know about your dad?”