like the regents of the outer worlds, he

like the regents of the outer worlds, he took time off to attend a molecular cruiser races. He hid the bitter regret proper to his station in life when his cruiser mowed down the
cheap seats. They parked their cruisers anywhere they wanted for the races & the rabble were less than ants to them. He tried to forget Jerome's family had tickets for that section
and just wanted to have a couple beers and lay low. On the way up the steps though some drunken bum made a play for his handcuffs. His training kicked in and before he knew it he
was calling upon the skills he had learned from
his Cub Scout days. What would Mrs. Nagin, his den master have done in this situation? Where would he get sufficient Oreos?
If he couldn't come up with a hundred Oreos, Slick Willy would make Catshit Mufasa pay with his blood. With nowhere else to turn, he called the only man for the job, Michael Scarn.
Scarn. A man who's name was synonymous with success. A man who would do anything to get the job done. The only man to have traveled in time in a fridge. He accepted the job, and
for a while, things were great. Money, women, moderately fast cars, But after only a few weeks, the feeling of success faded away to be replaced with an itch. An itch for
justice. Never again was he going to forget about what was important to him, and he would always regret throwing it all away for this mediocre life.
But despite his regrets, he remained the frontman of Creed.

1 Comments

Bad. Apr 22 2011 @ 00:52

This story is gold all around. Agent Scarn should become a mainstay around here.

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