Manifest Destiny

[ChrisiusMaximus]

You can really feel the tension mounting nicely written SKILORD

[SKILORD]

Thanx Chris

[SKILORD]

Chapter 4: The March begins

Sitting in the cafe two of the newest initiates in the New York social elite looked at each other, a newspaper between them.

Crisis escalates, Cubans demand return of Merchants while Confederacy refuses. Bayley and Oakley vow to support allies

"Blows may decide," Hernando noted, that was a frame of mind all to common recently, the realization of the conflict on the horizon was the acceptance of the world, only a few had seen it before the Merchant crisis had escalated it such.

"I'm going to save him." Sam spoke assuradely, defying the world to oppose him.

"You were the one who said we would have left him anyways, leave him. He didn't much like you anyway."

The cafe owner walked over to them beaming, they had entered his life mysteriously a few months ago, paying for half a loaf of bread they claimed to have stolen months before that, "Anything you need sirs?" They had been a blessing, the patronship of such rising stars had brought the cafe to notriety, it rose with equal leaps and bounds as International Jewlers.

"No, thank you," Hernando waved him away politely," Besides, who will sell if you leave?"

"The name my freind," Sam grasped his partner's shoulder, "I don't sell in Pensylvania, or Quebec City, or even Cincinatti."

"True,"Hernando conceded, with this he admitted defeat," please don't die," he begged.

Sam smiled," Never."

He was condescending, Hernando hated that about him, he was never condescending to the customers, most of them loved him. Hernando felt little for the other man, few freindly emotions ever graced the Cuban's soul. He accepted that he needed Sam as much as Sam needed him, maybe more.

"Go, pack and go, liberate the b*stard who abandoned us."

Sam smiled, picked up his coat, made by his private tailor, and smiled as he left for the shop, where both men still lived and worked.

-

Henry Caliber was already in the Confederacy, not that he especially wanted to be.

He hired out as an enforcer of the slaveholder's whims, as an overseer. Under such a guise he had helped a dozen slave families to freedom, he took their slavery upon himself, but he was enslaved to his task, not another man. His family had burnt that theirs might go free, he wondered how many of the men he freed were worthy ro be exchanged at such high rates.

He wasn't alone in his task, several men on the very same plantation he worked. One of them grabbed him gently as he left the line, having received his dinner. He pointed to a lonely table, a ways from any prying ears.

As they sat the other man wispered," Hank i know yer as tough as they come, but are you afraid of anything? Could the Slavers do anything to disuade you from a task?"

"I'm afraid of fire.... nothing else."

"Well then it shouldn't be too tough a job," the other abolitionist grinned slyly,"Anything you wouldn'y do for the cause."

"Sure,"Henry leaned back," Wouldn't burn a house, or kill a woman or child."

"That's alright," the other overseer was smiling wholesale now,"President Davis is neither."

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice SKILORD, youre doing a fine job with this.

[SKILORD]

Wait till you see the assasination scene, i'm very excited about that, it's one of the few scenes i've written that isn't up.

[SKILORD]

Chapter 5: Call to Arms

Rusted chains held them down, but they didn;'t force their heads down, the cubans did that on their own. Tears were shed in the prison over a lost home, blood was left to drown these tears, as the merchants were beaten for answering questions wrong, how could they know how Cuba was defended, having been so long at sea?

Every now and again, while the jailers rested their weary arms, Pedro would lift one or another crewmate's head and wisper:

"Coconut Milk, hold onto that hope."

Dirt, Salt all united with their wounds, creating a concerto of firey pain not to be forgotten. Pedro had been their before, he was the vetran of another strinke by the South, but this did not make him calloused to their assaults. It made them worse, because he knew what came next.

The jailer came in, a rare grin crowned his scarred, angry face. He pointed at two men who had served Pedro since he began his voyages, men Pedro had been raised with. He served them their final sentance.

"Runaways." Pedro shook his head, it could not be, he had known those men since childhood. They had gone to school together, played as babes. The gaurd now pointed at Pedro as the other men were hustled away to a plantation.

"For attempting to help runaways in the escape of the Confederate States of America, you have been sentanced to death, by firing squad, in one week."

Blood drained from his face, as he looked upon his mortality, and realised how little he meant in the grand scheme of things.

-

"What would you want with them?" the man seemed shocked that Sam had asked.

"I'm a reporter, looking to report on how well they are cared for."

The other man was shocked, in his dull fashion. Sam swore he had never seen so stupid a beast before in his life. The gray eyes held no spark that placed man above the animals, that gave him the ability to accomplish such things as building Fort Prince of Wales.

"well... uh, there's an political prison on embassy drive, that might be it..."

Such a man would not find such a thing as a political prison absurd, it occured to Sam, were all Southerners so dumb?

Screams echoed from the halls of the Richmond Political prison, that meant there were more than one he realised. He knocked politely on the great wooden door, which opened, revealing a weary old man behind a desk, and the beast that opened the door.

Sam estimated that he was seven feet tall, wide as an ox, probably strong to boot. His hand dropped to his revolver, which laid within his coat, he wondered how many shots the man could take, probably a few, giving the old man time to shoot him, he didn't like the odds.

"I'd like to see the captain and crew of the merchant vessle, the Padre." He announced confidently.

The other men stared, shocked, until a grin spread across the old man's lips and laughter took the room by force.

"I don't see the humor."

"You expect us to allow visitors, to political prisoners?" The old man wiped a tear from his cheek, the smile remained," There is no way there is a nation so naieve as to allow that."

"Let me in now." Sam said firmly. The old man didn't flinch, the monster moved closer.

"No, it cannot be done," the old man began to lift his gun.

Sam was the faster draw, and a bullet soon peirced the old man's chest.He slumped into his chair for the last time.

The giant looked, shocked upon the corpse," Da...Da..."

It was absurd that such a beast was the spawn of the tiny man now bleeding his last behind the desk. Sam looked, bewildered as the beast turned to him.

The realization came quickly as the giant charged, Sam lept out of the way, though not quickly enough and he lost his revolver to the sheer force of the beast, it slid across the floor, coming to rest safely out of the way.

A scream escaped the giant lips as he charged again. Sam picked up a large plank and slapped it viciously across the charging face. The wood broke harmlessly, though the man did damage himself when he hit the concrete wall. Sam lunged for the gun, rolling on the ground at it, avoiding the great feet that shot his way. The gun was raised at the angry monster. One, Two, three shots rang out. before the giant made his way over to sam, swatting the gun from his hand, out the window. Sam couldn't follow it now, and he was left to dodge punches. His strikes did little, and the ballet of destruction was lead, most definately, by the giant gaurd. A punch landed on Sam's face, tearing the skin and knocking Sam behind the desk, where he almost lost conciousness. His hand laid to rest across a long metal pipe.

The Rifle.

Sam jumped up as the giant lumbered across the room. Three rifle shots felled him, Watson left the rifle at his feet. As he took the keys from the first corpse, and made his way to the cells, where he was greeted by frightened stares.

"Come now, you're goin to pose as my slaves, we're going to my ship."

As he held the chains and lead the Cubans out of the jail, to the harbor Pedro looked at him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Sam smiled back," Shut up slave."

[SKILORD]

Addendum

Henry sat at the bar, listening to the stories of glory the men beside him chose to tell.

"So we made our way after that slave, ah mean, how could ee escape? We treated him good, right?"

Hank nodded, little choice here but to agree.

"We found him across the border, in texas. Well a few of the boys wanted to call it off there, but i remembered readin' summear that they couldn't help the slaves go. So we marched in 'der and took what was ours.

Henry's interest was piqued," what'd you do from the stealin' basterd?"

"Well, he were'nt there. So we took his woman and kids and," time froze as the last moments of his family were told him by a drunk, in a bar a nation away from his home. Anger pounded his vains, here was the master, here was the goal that he was enslved to. His hand dropped to his pistol.

He couldn't, he had another job. The other abolitionists had made him swear not to leave Richmond without killing the president, he was so close, having found the play that Davis would attend next, Jefferson loved the theater, and purchasing tickets near the president's. If he submitted here he would never make it. He couldn't give up now.

Listening to the tragedy told as a grand victory Henry Caliber held back tears, held back his gun. As his virtue made him the villain in the grand story of southern slavery he kept his calm. He piled beer after beer before him, paying it all in the nearly matchless funds the abolitionists had gotten from other nations. Drunk, sobbing, he fell asleep in a pile of garbage, in a street without a name.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

I applaud thee oh SKILORD, keep it coming .

[SKILORD]

Is there anyone else out there reading this?

[SKILORD]

Chapter 6: Heard around the world

Hiawatha was a classic play, it told the story of a Iriquois general, from times before the world began counting. Primarily the man died in the end, which Henry found appropriate.

He took his soft, cushioned seat, and the stranger next to him extended a hand and a smile.

"'ello chap," the stranger said.

"ummm, hello, you would be?"

"Call me Booth, John Wilkes Booth."

"It's a pleasure," Henry finally returned the smile. This man might be trouble. Hank sat to watch the play.

"I love the theater," Booth mentioned as the lights began to dim," have you seen We American Cousins? it's quite good."

Henry shook his head,"I've not. Do you live here, watching every play?"

"I'm an actor, i've got an off night tonight, and decided to see a play for a change," Booth laughed at his own joke. Henry didn't and looked at this absurd man. The play began.

Hiawatha was returning from great conquests of the tribes, returning in victory to Salamnaca, the capitail of the ancient empire. henry watched entranced, the play was excelent, and it occured to him that it had travelled as far as he, having originated in Fort Charles, where Shakespear had composed it.

A warrior, his body painted in classic Iriquois style turned to his general,

"Remember sir, thou art mortal."

Henry almost laughed, what appropriate advice. Another leader would do well to remember this, he turned to look at the President, who smiled at his assasin. The assasin smiled back, biding his time.

As Hiawatha was assasinated, by a group including his once freind Squanto, Hank turned back to look discreetly. Jefferson was entranced.

The play came to an end. Henry stood,m a knot in his stomache, he lifted his revolver to a panicked face. the president of the Confederacy shouted as the bullet entered his heart, death was coming, there was no avoiding it.

"Sic Semper Tyrrannis!" Henry shouted, holding the smoking gun high.

As he ran from the scene he realized that he would be remembered forever, his name found in every history book, written in the blood of Jefferson Davis.

As the assasin fled John Wilkes Booth stood up and with fury in his eyes shouted to the world.

"Dammit that's my line!"

-

The city was buzzing while the murderer was searched for. Samuel Watson wished the best of luck to the man as he returned to his carriage. He was going to return to the North. he found a man huddled in his carriage, outside the theater.

"And who will you be?" Sam wasn't frightened, he was incapable of such, having defeated the giant.

"Where are you going?" the other man spoke with a Texan's accent, Sam shrugged he'd give him a chance.

"I'm on my way home, to New York. Why is it so important that you know?"

"Take me with you, i'm wanted here, i won't be wanted there...." the man seemed on the edge of things.

Recognition dawned on Samuel's face," You, You," he pointed at the theater.

"We're still in the CSA," Henry reminded him.

Sam nodded, and sat in the driver's seat, prodding the horses to make their way to the border.

-

"Yippi-kayey Mothef***er" Billy wispered, it was his personal chant, he used it to psyche himself into a rage, or to taunt his defeated foes. He hadn't used it much for the latter, and wasn't now. He squatted frightened outside the saloon. Sundance was inside.

Walking confidently to the door Billy lifted his revolver and shouted,

"This is the sheriff, I call for the surrender of the Sundance Kid, come out with yer hands raised."

Noone stirred. he pushed to door open.

"Oh, my, I see, i'll be going then." The rifles at his face didn't respond, for which he was thankful. They parted, and he went in, wondering where his sanity went. Sundance sat upon a chair above the rest, the King of Theives.

The pistol was up, pointing at the Kid.

"git down."

Sundance laughed at him, "look around, my freind, the rifles haven't fallen. Surrender. We'll probably only torture you for the next week. Then we'll let you gop, humiliated."

Billy threw his gun down.

"Sh*t," he kicked the floor as he eyed it. his head bowed," I knew i shoulda been a balletrina, but daddy said No, it wouldn't be manly. Well Sh*t! Is this manly?!"

Sundance laughed again.

"I can't torture a balletrina." he hopped down and indicated to the riflemen around him and shrugged.

"Shoot 'im"

While the blood drained through the floorboards Sundance began.

"War's come boys. Yesterday We declared war on the Hudson Bay Republic, Cuba and the US for their attacks on the Confederacy. Oregon in turn declared war on us, along with Quebec, but that doesn't matter. I have a plan boys. I don't want this war so here;'s what i say we should do. Rise Up! We have received a nice sum," he indicated a heap of currency," from assorted nations, to destroy Oakley's factories, and do such to disrupt the western war effort. I've accepted the deal, of course. Well let's get to it!"

A plauge left the saloon a great mass of men all wearing the signature bkllack bandannas of the VeryVeryBadMen Gang.

[SKILORD]

i don't like the last section. Sundance turned from a niceguy bank robber to a cold blooded murderer. it was out of character, and i shouldn't have done that.

Can't be helped now, i'll keep it up.

Unless this has been deemed unsavory by my audience.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Its fine SKI in fact tame by the standards of some of the stories here.

I honestly think more people are reading this than me but there seems to be a lot of regulars not active and of course the old problem of not giving feedback.

I say keep writing and soon enough the feedback will arise.

[Chingis Khan]

Re: Chapter 6: Heard around the world

Originally posted by SKILORD
"Sic Semper Tyrrannis!" Henry shouted, holding the smoking gun high.

As he ran from the scene he realized that he would be remembered forever, his name found in every history book, written in the blood of Jefferson Davis.

As the assasin fled John Wilkes Booth stood up and with fury in his eyes shouted to the world.

"Dammit that's my line!"

Good story! Keep it up.

[SKILORD]

I don't mind the fact that billy got killed, i don't mind killing him. That Sundance is acting to calloussed bothers me.

Skilord shrugs. I'll make it work, he'll end up battling scizofrenia.

[gooberboob]

ahh a good schizo story, I'll keep readin'



"THAT'S MY LINE!"