Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Ohhh, that BURNS me up

“Buddy, you want another one?” the bartender asked. “Are you gonna drink that one or make love to it?”

“Ha ha, if he was making love to it, he’d be done already,” I slurred as I slammed my hand on the bar. My own drink spilled from the enthusiasm. “Just kiddin’ man. Hey barkeep why don’t you give him a refill when you get me one. ‘Preciate it.”

“Thanks,” the guy in the nice suit next to me nodded as the man behind the bar worked up two more drinks for us.”

“Hey no problem,” I sloshed back at him. “I’ve got nowhere to go right now, really. I was in this game, you know Company Apprentice?”

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Yeah well it’s big, lemme tell ya,” I replied. “But then they fired me even though I put my résumé on paper. You’d think a paper company would appreciate that, but nooooo. So then what do they do? They go and then ask me to come back to help out my former teammate. Can you believe it?”

“I guess not,” he answered noncommittally.

“But I’ve got a plan,” I hiccupped triumphantly. “I’m gonna screw them all up just like that one chick did on that other Apprentice. What was her name? A’Mimosa? Amaretto? You know who I’m talking about.”

“Heh heh, yeah.” He held up his newly filled glass. “Hey, cheers, man.”

“You got it.” I sloppily clacked my glass against his and took a sip. “Hey, I’ll be right back. I have to drain the main vein.”

I stumbled past my new friend and into the men’s bathroom. As I stood in front of the single urinal, I heard the door open behind me.

“Jus’ a minute,” I called. “Occupied.”

I stuck my thumbs up just as I felt the garrote hit my neck.

Anyone who’s been in the business knows a great way to set up someone perusing you is to act drunk. It will make them think they have the advantage which actually puts you at an advantage. To drink a lot without getting drunk takes a little timing, ice to water down your drinks, and you have to spill a lot.

With my thumbs giving me just enough breathing room between the wire and my neck, I threw my body down and tossed my assailant right over me.

“I should kill you now, but I need you alive.” I quickly wrapped him up in my Superman S-Symbol Snaring Kit. Then knocked him out with a punch to the jaw.

My name is Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. I used to be a contestant on Company Apprentice until…
Bennet: Blah blah blah. You’re fired.
When you’re fired, you’ve got nothing: no cash, no plane ticket home, no pencil sharpener or LED keychain tchotchkes. You’re stuck in whatever city they dump you in.
Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Where am I?
Nepharia: You’re still in New York, idiot.
You do whatever work comes your way. You rely on anyone who’s talking to you. A lightsaber-happy dark Jedi.
Nepharia: Should we stab them?
An old friend who used to inform on you to the FBI…
Private Hudson: You know spies… game over for them, man.
Other friends too…
Private Hudson: [Phone rings] Hey is that your mom again?
Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: No, it’s Professor X, dummy.
Professor Xavier: Someone needs your help, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator.
Bottom line? Until you figure out who fired you… you’re not going anywhere.
Oh yeah wait, it was that tool Bennet.


“I’ve got everything we need man,” Hudson grinned. “Check it out! Independently targeting particle beam phalanx. Vwap! Fry half a city with this puppy. We got tactical smart missiles, phase-plasma pulse rifles, RPGs, we got sonic electronic ball breakers! We got nukes, we got knives, sharp sticks...”

“You sure we’ll be OK in this factory?” I asked.

“Yeah, my buddy owns it but it’s going to be closed for quite a while,” Hudson answered. “Looks like the economy is hitting the novelty dog poop business pretty hard, too.”

“Good,” I smiled. I had noticed our quarry tied to his chair had woken up but was still feigning unconsciousness. I tipped my head quickly towards him, Hudson smiled and walked over to the man.

“Wakey wakey,” the private said as he slapped the man in the face. “Hey Jon, I say we grease this rat frack son of a bitch right now.”

“No no, not yet,” I prodded Hudson away from him and looked down at the guy. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“West,” he sputtered. “Agent Elliot West.”

“Look West,” I answered. “Can I call you West?”

He gulped and nodded.

“Look West, I don’t want to unleash the beast here.” I threw my thumb back at Private Hudson. “But he’s really itching to shoot something—”

“Or someone!” Hudson interrupted.

“Or someone right now,” I continued. “I know you’ve been following me and I’m just a little bit miffed that you are.”

When you have to get info out of someone, the classic set up is always the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine. It’s well known and anyone with the right training can avoid succumbing to it, but there’s no doubt to its simple effectiveness. Of course with Hudson, you might call it the Good Cop/Dumb Cop routine.

“You’re being investigated because we got a tip that you were plotting an attack against the IRS,” he sputtered. “I was ordered to follow you to check it out. I’m just doing my job.”

“I know,” I answered. “I’m the one who made the tip.”

“You what?”

Hudson put the barrel of his pulse rifle against West’s temple. “Lemme kill ‘im,” he growled. “Come on Jon, lemme kill him!”

“No!” West cried.

“Not yet,” I pushed Hudson away again. “Well Agent West, you’re right. I am in a little group called the Americans Liberating the Oppression of IRS Dollars.”

“Altoid?” he asked.

“No thanks, I just had an Ice Breaker.”

“No, I’m saying your group’s acronym is ALTOID,” he explained.

“Shut up!” Hudson slapped the agent across the face. “We don’t need any smart mouth smartness out of you.”

“OK Hudson,” I held the Colonial Marine back like a corner trainer would hold back a caged beast in a boxing ring. “Take it easy.”

Hudson feigned another strike against the agent and then stalked away.

“We want you alive, Agent West,” I said. “Because I want you to get me into the IRS office.”

“What?”

“I know there’s a security system and badges and codes and I just don’t have time to deal with all that,” I explained. “I need you to get me in and then I’ll turn you loose.”

“Don’t turn him loose,” Hudson pleaded. “Let me have him.”

“You’re going to turn me loose? I don’t believe it.”

I leaned closer towards West. “I’m not a killer like this guy,” I assured him. “In fact I’m more like you. You and I are a lot alike; I just want to do my job and then go home to my wife and kids.”

“I’m single…”

“Well you get my point nonetheless. And you will help and there’s going to be no funny business or else…”

I pulled Betsy, my blaster pistol, out just enough so he could see it.

“OK OK,” he sighed.

There are several ways to get into a high security installation. You can go in with a squad of well-armed and well-trained commandoes and guns blazing or you can do it the sneaky way. With the sneaky way, you can get in and do the damage from the inside before anyone knows it.

Agent West led me through the secured office. I kept a close eye on him to make sure he wasn’t tipping anybody off. He played it smart though, and soon I was in the main computer room.

“You’re gonna hack into the systems?” he asked. “No way. It’s triple layered super encrypted. Nothing on Earth can get through that.”

“Fortunately, I have this.” I pulled the Intergalactic Serial Port cable out of my Wristcomm and plugged it into the port on the mainframe. In no time at all, I was in the system and putting the false information into the system.

“What are you doing?” he blubbered.

“Just sending out a few official memos,” I answered.

“What?”

“Oh yeah, and I can’t have you blabbing about what happened here, either.”

“Bu-but you said that you weren’t going to kill me!” he babbled.

I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

I shot him with the sonic disrupter on my Wristcomm. He’ll remain unconscious for at least a day from the blast. Long enough for the memos to circulate.

Memo 1

Memo 2

Memo 3

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: An Interview with a Cobra

Destro poked his head through the door to Cobra Commander’s office. “Your 3:00 is here now, my dear Cobra Commander.”

“Excssssellent,” Cobra Commander cackled. “Let me sssslip into ssomething more comfortable.”

While the Scottish weapons dealer looked on, the terrorist leader pulled off his battle helmet and replaced it with his ceremonial hood.

“Pleasssse, ssssend him in,” he hissed.

“As you wish, my dear Cobra Commander.”

I stepped into the office and placed myself in the chair in front of the Commander’s desk. He was sitting behind it, pouring over the contents of a manila folder.

“Uh, here’s the bottle of urine for my drug test,” I placed a two liter bottle on his desk. “I had to drink a lot of ice tea to fill it up. I hope it’s enough.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, asss long ass you’re not on Venom or that stuff that Headman’s pushing, I'm sure you’ll be fine.” Still looking at the file, he took the bottle and placed it in a drawer in his desk. “I sssee you included your résumé as well as your official filecard and a headshot.”

“Yes,” I smiled. “I understand you would probably like to see a different kind of a headshot produced by one of your operatives, but so many agencies are asking for them now…”

“Heh heh, yesss,” he laughed. The Cobra leader finally set down the file and looked at me. Behind the hood, I could just make out the expression on his face change. “You! You! You’re the one who blew up my gloriousss airship! You are the one who worked with the cursed Joe team to stop my plans in Springfield! I ssshould kill you right now.”

“Whoa whoa, hold on right there,” I held up my arms. “To be fair, your assassin Zartan tried to kill me. It was my duty as a presidential candidate to investigate. Then Colonel Scar captured me and was going to kill me as well. I had to defend myself.”

“Hmmm…” Cobra Commander tapped his fingertips together as he thought.

“And at Springfield, er well…” I thought for a moment. “The fact that I’m here now shows that when I was there, I was just doing my job. Pay me now, and I’ll work for you. Pretty mercenary of me, huh?”

“Yessss,” Cobra Commander’s eyes lit up. “I do like mersssenaries… Sssso tell me, right off the bat, if you were to attack a landmark, like sssay the Eiffel Tower, how would you do it?”

“Well let’s see,” I replied. “Teleporting it away has already been done. So has destroying it with meteorites and nanotech. I would still want to do something elaborate though. Probably have a one of a kind machine made that has real unusual and hard to get components, like maybe a freeze ray that uses ionic ice from the South Pole, a rare cold metal found in a South American pyramid, and some sort of power core that we would have to steal from a research lab.”

“I like it! I’ll get my bessst men working on it right away.” He looked at my filecard again. “It says here that you’re a qualified paratrooper.”

“That’s right,” I answered.

“That’s good. You could be a Firebat pilot or a gunner on a Rattler. If your plane gets shot, you could just jump right out and parachute to the ground.”

“Er… sure.”

Cobra Commander slammed the paperwork down and placed his palms on top of them. “I tell you what, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, I don’t like this interview very much. I like action. Do you consider yourself a man of action?”

“Of course,” I responded. “I’m Action Man, that is I’m a man of action, you know.”

“Right, right. This issss good because I have a little test for you. Ever take a test to get a job?”

“Sure,” I answered. “I had to write a press release to get a job as a PR intern. I assume that you don’t want me to do any writing though, do you?”

“No I don’t,” Cobra Commander answered. “I have something a little more physical for you; in fact this mission will be your physical. I want you to go to Cobra Island, find a way to sneak into the base there, take out the Cobra ninja guarding Serpentor, and then kill him.”

“Kill Serpentor?” I asked.

“Yesss! I hate him! I hate that damnable clone with his regal arrogance and hisss ‘Thisss I command’ and that stupid cape!” the Commander howled. “I hate that cape. I hate him! Kill him then meet me at the Terror Drome.”

“You go it.” I winked at him and made a pistol out of my forefinger and aimed it at him, making a clicking noise to complete the effect.

* * *

The guard was bored. It was a quiet night with a full moon and no one ever attacks a base under a full moon if they can help it. There’s just too much light.

The coffee he just drank to keep him awake just went right through him. A full bladder and boredom make for a long night, so he decided to just let it out right there.

Nobody else was down by the docks. There was a small river that led straight into the Gulf of Mexico with a number of buildings built up around it. Further down were it was deeper, Water Moccasins and Moray Eels were docked but nothing was here where the water was only about a foot deep.

Splish splish splish.

The trooper looked up. Some idiot was running straight at him in the river. It wouldn’t be an attack would it? Why would someone attacking be right out in the open like that?

With a jumping back kick, I sprung up out of the water and clocked him in the jaw. I was then ready to give him my cool action line.

“I thought you’d get a kick out of that,” I smirked. Yeah, I’ll use a better line next time.

The Cobra Ninja was tougher. He was too quick and agile for me but I managed to stun him with the sonic disrupter on my Wristcomm and finish him off with a flying kick.

I then made my way to Cobra Commander in the Terror Drome. “Mission accomplished,” I said.

“You killed Serpentor?” he asked.

“Well no,” I answered.

“You failed?!” he screamed.

“No, I just subcontracted it out,” I explained. “I hired Zartan to do it.”

“You got someone else to do it?” he hissed gleefully. “I like it. Showsss that you’re definitely management material.”

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Team One has a picnic

I sat smiling at my teammates as I popped a grape into my mouth.

“Guys, we’ve been doing great,” I grinned. “We’re on a tear, winning an unprecedented 3 challenges in a row.”

“I’d think it was unprecedented,” Nepharia smiled slyly. “This is the first time this game has been played.”

“Right,” I nodded. “And since I am, ipso facto, El Jefe for this week’s challenge I thought I’d reward us all with a picnic lunch.”

“Jon, you do realize that we’re in the boardroom, don’t you?” Professor Xavier asked. “Having a picnic indoors is a little unusual, to say the least.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to have it outside,” I explained. “Too many ants. Anyway, I’m the ipso facto El Jefe and Team One’s been an unstoppable juggernaut—”

“I don’t think ipso facto means what you think it means,” the telepath interrupted. “And please refrain from using the word juggernaut if you can. There are some bad memories there.”

“OK whatever. So we have a real opportunity to shut down the other team with this challenge. Sure Gyrobo shed a little dead weight in the last few rounds, but he’s going to come out tougher than ever. He’s going to eat lightning and crap thunder. Literally. I’ve seen him do it. That’s why we’re going to work harder as a team to snuff him out.”

“Um Jon,” Nepharia attempted to interrupt.

“Yeah, he’s going to come out of the gate swinging,” I continued. “He’s going to be tough, like one of those little tough animals with the claws that are sharp... what are they called? I dunno, doesn’t matter. That’s why I’m going to pull out the most dangerous secret weapon of all.”

I paused for effect.

“Teamwork. He doesn’t have any teammates anymore, so he’s going to have to do all the work himself but we’ll be working together, like a well oiled clock or something and bingo! His house of cards will come tumbling down like so many dominoes. Checkmate.”

Nepharia rolled her eyes.

“That’s right, we’re going straight for the jugular, or whatever his robot clown hybrid equivalent is, and we’re going to slice it open and he’s going to be thrashing on the ground bleeding all over the place and messing up the carpet and dying. Figuratively speaking of course.”

“Ahem, Jon,” Xavier cleared his throat.

“Oh yeah, Gyrobo knows that it’s 4th and long and he’s down by 5. He knows he needs to go the whole nine yards and he’s going to try a flea flicker, statue of liberty, end around halfback option pass, hail Mary hook and lateral. But you know what that pass is going to do?”

“I’m not even sure what you’re talking about any more,” Nepharia answered.

“He’s talking American football terms again,” Xavier sighed. “Is it football season already?”

Ignoring their comments, I answered my rhetorical question. “That pass is going to clang to the ground.”

“Jon,” Xavier interrupted. “I appreciate your enthusiasm and all, but I have to tell you. We’re not working as a team anymore.”

“What?”

Nepharia folded her arms across each other. “I wasn’t going to tell him.”

“What do you mean we’re not working as a team?”

“We need to work alone to complete this task,” Xavier explained.

“We do?”

“Uh, yeah,” Nepharia added.

“Well that does put an interesting spin on my plan,” I rubbed my chin in deep contemplation. At least I was contemplating thought. “I tell you what, we still got all this food here. Why don’t we just enjoy this meal as a last function of a team?”

I stared at my new opponents as they happily munched on their picnic foods. Professor Xavier eyeballed me back, but took a bit of cold chicken in silence. Nepahria’s gaze shifted back and forth between me and Xavier as she popped a cube of Colby jack into her mouth. My eyes darted between the two as I munched on a handful of BBQ potato chips. Xavier looked at Nepharia, then at me as Nepharia looked him and then at me. We looked at each other. Oh yes, the competition is on.

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: And Here's the Pitch

“Good afternoon we’re from the network. I’m Margeaux Duvoux. That’s with an X.”

“Which name?” I asked as I shook her hand.

“Both,” she replied.

“Hi, I’m Richard Head and I’m an alcoholic.” The second executive shook my hand. “And we’ve got to be honest with you, we’ve got a lot of shows in the works. You’re really going to have to wow us today.”

“We need you to engage us with synergy!” Margeaux added as she pushed her hands together. “We’re looking for something with pizzazz – but not too much pizzazz, we need something that people will want to watch. Something that will put money in the bank.”


“Of course,” I answered. “That’s why I would like to show you Team One: Criminal Intent.”

“Hmmm,” Richard rubbed his forefinger on his upper lip. “Isn’t there already a similar show to this?”

“There is,” I conceded. “But there’s a certain simplistic elegance to the police procedural that works and we’re looking to use that to our advantage.”

“Explain,” Margeaux harrumphed.

“Well, it should be obvious that the police procedural does very well not only in first run, but then subsequently in syndication as well,” I said. “You have a crime, the characters investigate, throw in a few clever lines, solve the crime, then you run the teaser for the next week. Nothing to get you bogged down in a long running story arc or any messy personal details to confuse watchers and prevent them from coming back again.”


“Interesting,” Richard nodded. “But the story arc shows are quite popular right now.”

“Of course they are, but who’s going to watch Lost or Battlestar Galactica in reruns? Nobody, that’s who, because if you miss an episode you miss what’s going on. A viewer needs to either catch up or else drop out. And don’t get me started on that grand ending to BSG. Blah! It ruined the whole story from beginning to end.”

“Well you do have a very valid point, I would rather be in another drug-fueled orgy with Richard here than watch that Battlestar Galactica ending again,” Margaeux agreed. “Tell me though, what is the message that you’re trying to convey with your show?”


“Team One rocks.”

“You just lost me,” Richard groaned with disinterest.

“Look at it this way,” I pushed forward. “You want a simple but easily valid statement for everyone to believe in. This is it. People watch the show, get hooked on the show, then they want more, and that’s what we give them: Spinoffs: Team One Special Victims Unit, Team One: Miami, Team One NCIS, Team One Beach Patrol, Team ONe Beach Patrol Nights, kids shows, lunch boxes, video games, syndication everywhere. That’s how it’s done.”


“I see what you’re saying,” Margeaux with an X nodded. “But I think we need something with a little more oomph, you know. We want to take over everything, what about ‘Bow Down to Team One?’”

“No no, that’s a little too much,” I insisted. “People will get wise to that and start working against our cause. We don’t want our TV station to be overrun by elite counterterrorist units or suave British spies – believe me I’ve seen plenty of that kind of stuff in my day. We just want everyone to dully accept the truth.”

“I like it,” Richard nodded. “It’s a good plan and we don’t really have to work all that hard at it. It’s win win.”

“I like it too. This thing is going to print money,” Margeaux agreed. “One question: who is that first guy on the left in the first picture?”

“Private Hudson? Oh yeah, he’s harmless.”

“Yeah,” Margeaux exhaled. “I don’t think he’ll work for the show.”

“Yeah, not what we’re looking for here,” Richard nodded. “Definitely not the right look.”

“Yes, you will need to ditch the private,” Margeaux agreed.

“You got it,” I said. “He’s gone.”

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Watch Out For That Tree!

“This soup is delicious,” I exclaimed. “I thought it would be just snake, but there’s something more in here. How’d you get this interesting flavor?”

“Oh tell, I never will,” Yoda giggled. Well, not really a giggle per se, but some kind of equivalent that his species would employ.

“Well it’s good, I never thought I’d like snake soup this much, but I do,” I said as I took one more slurp. “This place is crawling with big game hunters and your Snake House is as filled with as many people as you can fit in here (which I admit isn’t very much, but hey they’re here, right?). We’re doing a pretty brisk business here, if I do say so myself.”

Before Yoda could answer, I noticed something outside in the swamp. It seemed like some sort of old, twisted tree with a cave at the base of it. I thought it was interesting that I hadn’t seen it before, but it certainly caught my attention now. It was giving off this whole creepy vibe, like some sort of evil, dark force was emanating from it.

“Say, what’s that over there?” I asked. “There’s something not right here.”

“That place...is strong with the dark side of the Force,” Yoda answered. “A domain of evil it is. Stay away from it, you probably should.”

I quickly sprang up and clipped on my pistol belt. My blaster pistols Betsy and Winona were charged and ready to go. I started walking towards the cave.

“Your weapons…you will not need them.”

I checked the charge of the sonic disrupter on my Wristcomm. I then ran my fingers over the stunball grenades dangling from my web belt. They were set. I pulled my vibroknife out of its boot sheath, thumbed that, then slid it snuggly back into its place.

“I said your weapons…you will not need them!” Yoda called louder.

“Right,” I nodded in agreematude. I checked the survival knife that was strapped to my web belt as well, then verified that the pins on the frag grenades were securely in their place. With my Wristcomm, I called up my ship, the Danger Sled, armed the torpedoes and cannon, and prepped it for a strafing run. After that, I wiggled my back and felt my holdout pistol clinging to it, the back of its holster damp with sweat. Finally, I checked that the penlight laser in my shirt pocket was also charged.

I then double checked the throwing stars that were snuggly tucked into the strap inside my lower arm opposite my Wristcomm. The dart gun with the tranq darts was ready to go as well. I sighed as I thought about my double phase powertronic sniper rifle sitting in the weapon storage locker in the Danger Sled but there was no chance of getting it at this point. I would have to be content with the Nunchakus, short katana, and the three poison gas pellets that I had secreted away.

Yoda rolled his eyes in exasperation as I stepped into the cave in my trademark casually-nonchalant-but-extremely-cautious manner.

The cave was dark, foreboding, and one of the scariest places I have ever been. Way scarier than a roller coaster at Six Flags. My head buzzed like a crescendo on a tympani when I saw a dark figure step in front of me.

It was Darth Vader.


I’m serious, it was totally the Dark Lord of the Sith. Not some whiny teenager wannabe. He stalked towards me in some manner that made me wonder if this was reality or some weird vision.


I ignited my lightsaber, which interestingly enough I neglected to mention up until now.

We traded blows. Lightsaber against lightsaber.


Darth Vader brought his weapon back for a killing blow.


And then I totally chopped his head off! Hell yeah! Score one for the good guy, it was awesome!


Vader stood for but a moment until his lifeless form crumpled to the ground like some sort of cyborg marionette with its strings cut mercilessly.


I watched as Vader’s helmet rolled across the soft earth of the cave. It sat for just a moment there as I heard the tympani roll once again.


And then it exploded open, revealing the face inside. What could this possibly mean?

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Mad Men and Women of Team One

“Good afternoon, Yoda,” Nepharia greeted the Jedi Master. “I am Dar*ahem* Nepharia, the El Jefe for Team One and this afternoon we would like to show you our multipart plan to bring more tourism to Dagobah. Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator has been working on the advertising campaign and I believe that he has a presentation to share with you at this time.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Yoda,” I stretched out my hand towards him.

“Remember you I do,” the diminutive wizard spoke. “Sing to me that lame song you have and crash into my backyard in your spaceship you did.”

“Heh heh, yes of course,” I chuckled. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, I would like to show you a little presentation on the campaign that we’ve been working on. Before we begin, would you like some refreshments? We have some delicious sandwiches made with toasted pumpernickel.”

“Those sandwiches I cannot eat,” he replied. “Dark toast intolerant I am.”

“Of course of course,” I replied. “Then how about some lizard skin wontons?”

“Not good for me all that cholesterol is,” he shook his head.

“Then perhaps some fruit,” I offered. “I believe we have some mixed fruit right here.”

Yoda waved his hand “Too much fresh fruit, I cannot take.”

“Then perhaps I should just get on with the presentation.”

“Nice that would be.”

“Here it is, four words, one which is used three times: Experience Adventure, Experience Excitement, Experience Dagobah.”

Yoda was silent for a moment. Then a moment more.

“Adventure? Excitement? A vacationer craves these things?” Yoda asked after a third moment.


“Yes they do!” my eyes lit up. “We’re talking about extreme vacations, surrounded by thousands of acres of untamed natural wild lands. Bush piloting through the swamps, hunting ravenous creatures, fishing for giant water beasts, giant swamp beasts, giant bog beasts, you name it.”

“An interesting idea this is,” Yoda conceded.

“Now as for your restaurant,” I continued. “We’re going in a slightly different direction with that, we want these vacationers to dine there, but we don’t necessarily want to make it part of the ‘extreme’ experience.”

“I see,” Yoda said. “Er, see I.”


“Right, so we’re using a few different methods to get the word out for that,” I explained. “We’ll have fortune cookies.”

“Fortune cookies I like,” Yoda nodded.


“And we’re not scared to try a little viral marketing as well,” I added.

Yoda nodded.


“Er, you’ll have to forgive us on that one,” I smiled weakly. “These are high school kids, you know.”

“Perhaps lose Dooku to the Dark Side I would not,” Yoda sighed. “If drop out of high school he did not.”


“We’ve got our troops excited over the idea of going to Dagobah. Ooops, and uh never mind about this next slide. I don’t know how it got in there.”



“Hmmm,” Yoda scratched his chin.



“And of course, no trip to Dagobah would be complete without souvenir bumper stickers,” I said. “It will be like the Wall Drug of a galaxy far, far away.”

“Nice this is,” Yoda smiled. “Many good ideas you show me, but complete your campaign is not.”


“Of course not,” I assured him. “We’re lining up celebrity endorsements even as we speak.”

“Speak we even as?” Yoda repeated.


“Yes,” I nodded excitedly. “Dave’s in, G.I.Joe jungle expert Recondo is in, Kraven the Hunter is dying to come to Dagobah, well not literally. I admit they’re not the biggest names in--”


“Size matters not.”

“You’re right, Master Yoda. In addition, we have Taarna, last of the Taarakians signed on.” I pointed to her picture in the presentation.


“A fetching creature she is,” Yoda smiled. “If a hundred years younger were I and a hundred years older was she…”

“And that’s not all. We still have a few more ideas up our sleeve.” I tugged on the cuffs of my shirt as a visual cue to what I was saying, like a magic act. All the good magicians do that, like that guy who does birthday parties. What’s his name? The great Flukini or something?

“Meditate on your campaign I must.” Yoda scooted off the chair and worked his way towards the door. “But looking forward to your next part I am.”

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Large and in charge, baby

“And so I think this week’s task we’ll have the perfect opportunity to—” Professor Xavier paused. “Jon, are you listening?”

“Sorry, dude,” I replied. “Every time I hit F5 on my Wristcomm, it plays that Money song.”

Professor Xavier and Nepharia looked at each other. “Have you been drinking again?” she asked.

“Jus’ a little,” I pinched my fingers together and squinted. “I’m a’ight… really. You smell nice. Brrrrrrup.”

“You know Jon,” the Professor stated. “As a former private in the US Army and a presidential candidate, I would think you have the leadership skills necessary to get us the win. I was about to suggest that you would be the ideal El Jefe this week, but it doesn’t appear that you are up to the task. ”

“I don’t think he’s got it,” Nepharia smirked. “Look at him. He was missing from the first week’s task for some alleged mission to save the multiverse and he came back smelling like booze. What kind of a mission to save the multiverse comes with booze?”

“Hey, I’ll be the Jefe,” I slurred. “I’ll be the Jefe.”

“Managing a Sith and Earth’s greatest telepath?” Nepharia snorted. “Not in your condition.”

“You clearly seem rather tipsy, as the kids say,” Xavier concurred.

“This is the worst intervention ever!” I indignantly blurted back at them. “Look at you, Charlie. You’re sitting there and drinking a cognac.”

“This isn’t an intervention, this is a team meeting,” Xavier answered with a hint of frustration.

“It is?” Huh. They might be right, maybe this is getting a little out of hand. I have only one choice and so I opened the hidden compartment on my Wirstcomm and pulled out the lone pill contained within. I popped the Bacchusian Anti Intoxicant into my mouth and swallowed it whole. Immediately, I felt the effects like my body swelled up and quickly returned to normal starting from my head and traveling all the way to my toes, then straight back up again. My head immediately cleared up, the lethargic, fatigued feeling was chased away, and my muscles felt tighter. I curled my arm to show my bicep and the image of an M1A2 Abrams tank firing its 120 mm smoothebore gun briefly appeared on it.

I think I even heard nautical music.

“OK, I’m your man,” I said. I picked up a yardstick and slapped the image of the man on the wall with it. “This will be a real easy snatch and grab. Nepharia, you use the technologies and Sith abilities at your disposal to teleport our objective to here.”

I smacked the map on the wall next to the picture of our victim with my makeshift pointer.

“Professor,” I continued. “With your abilities, we’ll easily negotiate an exchange with our objective for the ransom. This will be a cakewalk, no fuss, no muss, in and out, easy stuff. I’ll leave you two to your portions of the task and meet our friend when he arrives at the hideout.”

Later, I was alone in the abandoned warehouse. Odd shadows chased each other throughout the open space where I stood.

“Hey, what the?” a surprised voice cried out behind me.

I turned around and saw my victim had appeared sitting in a wooden chair.

“You’ll have to excuse the accommodations,” I said coldly as I pulled a length of duct tape from its roll. “I’ll make you as comfortable as possible but I’m going to have to keep you secure for the duration.”

“You kidnapped me? That’s cold.” Mr. Bennet exhaled. “I like it.”

“Yeah, you should have seen the look on the Haitian’s face,” I smirked. “He was speechless.”

“That’s his character!” Bennet growled. “Anyway, who do you think is going to pay to get me back, huh?”

“We have several options on that,” I grinned. “Maybe the producers of this show will want you back, maybe Primatech won’t want any dirty little secrets to come spilling out of your head, or maybe your family will cough up the dough. Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and get all three, huh?”

“My family would never betray me!” the man with the glasses shouted angrily.

“I think your kid would,” I answered.

“Claire?”

“No,” I shook my head and pulled my jacket off to get a little more comfortable. “Lyle.”

“Ooh,” he sucked in his breath. “Yeah, him. Well, my family doesn’t have that kind of cash lying around, you’ll never get any from him even if he agrees to the make the exchange.”

“Come on, Noah, you’ve been doing this sneaky black ops stuff for years. You must have a little cash squirreled away under your mattress or buried in your basement. I know your type. And as for your son, you know the one who plays second fiddle to your adopted daughter at every turn? The one who you just kicked out of the competition? I’m sure he’ll play ball if it comes to that.”

“Yeah well…” Bennet’s bluster hissed out of him like the air out of a balloon. “Fine. So what will we do until then?”

“I Guess that I’m just stuck in the middle with you,” I smiled menacingly as I reached into my pocket.

“Wait… What?” he gasped. “You’re not going to cut my ear off are you?”

“Naw, just make you a little prettier.”