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This story will probably be at the forefront of my mind like L&C was last year. So I hope that this one will spark more interest. Heh heh. Well As the title would suggest this is something I began work on several years ago but abandoned until this week. I'm still trying to figure out what I'll be doing with this but it's one piece of the full story there will be four in all, I only have two planned out, but that's enough talk from me. Well more than enough really. Oh by the wayside this story is not meant to offend anyone or express any feelings held by the author it's an alternate universe and all of the world leaders and people and animals are different from those currently alive here in our universe, that said I feel kinda bad playing god with these people's lives but it's all for the greater story and that wonderful nonsense. Yeah...


Clip [1/4] ASOTV:

The date is the twenty first of January 2013, the President of the United States of America is dead. After harsh months of campaigning the victor stood on a podium readied to give a speech only to be shot down and killed by an unidentified sniper; as of yet no clues were found at the scene. Internal and external operatives on all sides are coming up empty in the search for the unknown rifleman. The resurgence of Near Eastern conflict spurred on by the late President’s November election, and the string of terrorist attacks in China, India, and Russia leave the world in a state of confusion and paranoia. The separate incidents can hardly be seen as isolated and connections are under investigation but the understanding of the situation is limited. As far as the world knows this is a sign of the apocalypse and the world is going to fall apart any day now; goverment insiders tend to agree with them. With the perfectly coordinated assassinations of several foreign ministers, diplomats, and other international officials perpetrated within twenty four hours of the President’s and the resurgence of widespread terror, it‘s easy to understand why.



I’d like to tell you all a story, not a short one either. It’s a story of mystery, suspense, and thrills. So reader, try your best to keep reading, do your best to take interest and most importantly of all, be very sure never to post your personal information on an open forum. This is no more than a piece of advice from me to you, take it as you like it and leave it if you don’t, but as for me I’ve got a story to tell all of you.

“That’s terrible.†A boy, a boy with no outstanding characteristics, physical or otherwise. He had dark brown and black hair, slouched at around five feet and six inches, and had terrible year round allergies producing dark bags under his eyes and the habit of leaving his mouth ever so slightly ajar. He was average at best when it came to sports and activities and never went voluntarily into the sun. His IQ was on average estimated to be one hundred forty-nine, with outliers as high as two hundred seventy-six and low as fifty-five. His grades were above average in school, but not by enough to be considered excellent.

This boy was slumped over staring at his desktop as his head rested on his desk. He had a downcast look on his face like always and frowned the longer he stared up at the glowing screen. He lifted his head enough to glance at the clock in the corner of his screen. Four thirty-six in the AM. He had noticed how tired he was some hours ago and ignored it. He lifted himself from his chair, spun it around and flopped back into it as it came to a stop. With a push from his foot the ratty office chair moved itself back to it’s original position. He placed his hands clumsily over his keyboard and with one swift motion moved his hand over to the backspace key and held it down watching with pleasure as the word processor page emptied itself of text. He chuckled to himself careful not to wake anyone near.

Then with a series of taps like rain on a car’s roof another page of text appeared. He frowned and his brow furrowed, the text he’d only just completed replacing was looking awfully appealing right now. The boy was a writer in his spare time, what of it he cared to actually use. He had several fans on the great series of tubes that were his playground eight or nine hours a day. However, his style lacked-- well, it sucked. He could never think of anything to write, nor could he ever think of anything to write about even. So he spun the chair about full circle once more before slamming his hands of the wooden desk and staring at the screen that defied all attempts at making a story. He liked writing well enough even with all of these setbacks but at times it made him want to rip hair straight off his head. He clicked the satisfying red enclosed cross at the upper right hand corner of the screen and sighed. Another window had been hiding behind it however, it was an online forum page.

He X’ed that out as well leaving nothing on his desktop but a bunch of icons and a little block dancing at the lower corner of his screen insisting that he had twelve unread messages. He clicked it and let loose the page. It was a standard E-mail account with eleven spam messages and one that caught his interest. It was an E-mail from his friend at the CIA, a irrefutable genius who could hack any system. In fact he'd got his job by hacking an NSA network and altering some classified data to read “Here’s my application.†He opened the message and said a short line of text. All it said was: “The usual suspects at: Dreadnought Five, Fifty Nine, Seven Kings.†The dark haired boy’s eyes widened. It had been the first time he’d received a coded message for months, cryptography was a secret hobby of his that he’d given up on actually developing years ago, however he still dabbled every so often. If the situation called for a code he’d gladly solve it and even gleefully look at the true meaning.

With a jerk back and a roll of plastic wheels he drew open a drawer of his desk where a pen and paper as well as a book of codes. He smiled inside as he flicked on his desk lamp and scribbled down the message. He also looked at the time it was sent, the username of his friend and the properties of the text. After copying everything he saw as important down he stared at it for some time. It didn’t get him anywhere so he started thinking more of past messages and inside jokes between the two. They always started hardest and most vaguely in these little games, so he looked through his message history and anything that showed up in between. He tried several methods but it dawned on him when he read an old message from nearly two years back, the fifth word of a message entitled Assault on the Dreadnought and all of the messages after it with the same topic heading formed a sentence when put side by side. After what felt like hours the boy crossed out the first word and wrote above it: “Do regret eating anything drenched near a ubiquitous grey heaven temple.â€

He stared at that for a few seconds before crossing it out and replacing it with, “Don’t eat government issued rations.†It was all he could think this strange message meant with his information detailed in the related messages. The government hadn’t issued anything yet, but he continued decoding well into the next day. He had just preceded onto the next two words and was looking over the information he’d written down earlier when he noticed the second word was in a different color from the first, it was a dark grey instead of automatic black, nearly impossible to see without looking at the text code or proper lighting. After several minutes of head scratching and scribbling the second word was hidden beneath a layer of ink and a fresh sentence lay above it.

“Five words, starting with F, ending with e, related to the government mentioned in the first word…†the decoded message read. “Foul play is quite possible.†The second group of words came quicker, he almost instantly remembered looking through a message from five months back that he received at about nine in the AM when he was trying to decode the first message. It was a rather stupid joke about an internet war god called Wossface. The boy took that to mean that there was some manner of espionage or warfare going on via the web and the final clue was the easiest.

The Seven Kings were the seven dwarf lords from the Lord of the Rings series that was excessively quoted in both book and motion picture form by the sender. “So that means, they’re building something, something big, a bulwark, a stone wall, a…nuclear bomb shelter?†He wasn’t sure what to make of a e-mail telling him not to eat government rations because of foul play and a nuclear internet war. The whole thing seemed too absurd, in fact it couldn’t have been anything but absurd. He quickly typed up a reply and sent it. It wasn’t coded, but it was vague, probably enough to keep a lot of people in the dark. Almost as soon as the message was sent a reply was waiting in his mailbox.

“This better be fucking good.†He groused momentarily. By his standards it was. Another coded message translating roughly to a meeting the next week on the Mall. It was nearly impossible to think that this was a joke any longer, not after a face to face was arranged. So the boy replied again, this time acknowledging and assenting. With that final parting he shut down the computer, turned out his desk lamp and swept himself from his desk into his bed in a strange awkward sashay. He didn’t even think about school work he’d neglected to do for the next day, he just shut his eyes and fell straight to sleep.