The murmur of idle chatter and the scooting of restless foldout chairs filled the auditorium. Thousands of people, clad in torn up wife beaters and Marlboro light jackets, sat densely packed under the blaring stadium lights. A small man in a white and black striped shirt walked unnoticed from a side entrance and made his way up to the center of the ring, where a microphone dangled from the ceiling. He tapped on the microphone three times with his knuckled and the crowd silenced themselves, their eyes drawn to the man.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. People of all age, color, and creed are gathered under this roof for one thing and one thing only…” the man said into the microphone, holding onto the syllables for dramatic effect. “To celebrate our fine nation’s democratic system…. with a good ol’ fashioned smackdown!” Read more ›
Who the Hell is Bobby Jindal?
I have been assigned to Task Force Theta, much to my chagrin.
Anyone in the force knew the stories about Task Force Theta. About the missions they have undertaken. About how few men and women that enter come out entirely intact.
Ever since they promoted me I knew it would be coming, but I tried to convince myself I was wrong. I wasn’t wrong. They assigned me to exactly what I expected would be coming. I’m supposed to find out the true identity of the mysterious man known only as Bobby Jindal.
I saw the look on Chief Roberts’ face as he handed me the documents. His eyes averted from mine and stayed focused on the manila folder in my hands. He said, “Agent Emily Fieri, you know what your mission is, and you probably know everything we’ve collected so far. I hope you have more luck than your predecessor.” I nodded and left his sight.
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