Author: Craig Weidhuner
Biography: Dead-Eye Sammie

Biography: Dead-Eye Sammie

By |

Samantha “Dead-Eye Sammie” Alcro is one of the most notorious and dangerous mercenaries in the galaxy. Known for her no nonsense attitude toward her work, plus her cold, ruthless professionalism makes her both someone to be feared and at the same time, an individual whose services are highly sought after. Even though she has no mystical force, her skill in combat, her resourcefulness and her high powered mech suit make her a deadly adversary. One who can even go toe-to-toe with a Taman Knight, as Shi-ria found out. Yet there is much about Dead-Eye that remains a mystery.

Long before she was “Dead-Eye Sammie”, she was simply Samantha Alcro. A small child born into a working class family on the planet of T’nubria, in the Torathol Empire. A world that had been conquered an annexed by Torathol over a thousand years ago. Despite Torathol attempting to suppress the culture of the T’nubrians, they still maintained their reputation as brave warriors, though some regard them more as savages. This is in part due to the Torathol Empire having a rigid caste system, one where one’s status and opportunities in life depended on what race and or species they were. A human with a mystical force such as magical essence, was regarded as being better than a non-human citizen of the Empire such as a demon. Being a human from T’nubria, automatically placed Samantha Alcro into a higher ranking in Torathol’s social hierarchy, though as often was the case, this was how it worked in theory, not necessarily in practice. Being from a working class family, coupled with their lack of a mystical force, greatly hindered any opportunities to make a better life for a young Samantha Alcro.

While her family wasn’t wealthy, they did manage to live a happy and relatively comfortable life until one day when T’nubria was struck by a planetary catastrophe. T’nubria was in a binary star system, orbiting the twin stars known as “Tenu” and “Bria.” Like Earth, T’nubria was the third planet of this system. Unlike Earth, T’nubria had a unique relationship with the fourth planet in the system, Voral. Voral had an elliptical orbit. Thus, periodically, T’nubria and Voral would switch positions. T’nubria would be the fourth planet from Tenu and Bria, while Voral would be the third until their paths crossed and they switched back. One day, according to rumours, the Imperial Space fleet of the Torathol Empire had been testing a top-secret weapon on the smaller star of Bria, which resulted in the star collapsing. The government of Torathol naturally denied this and tried to cover it up, but there was no covering up the results of their mishap; the collapse of the star shifted the orbits of the planets in the system, causing T’nubria and Voral to crash into each other. Voral, being the smaller of the two planets, was destroyed. While T’nubria survived, the damage left a lasting mark on the planet. The western hemisphere of T’nubria was decimated, while what remained was buried under the dust and dirt, all that remained of Voral. The clouds of dust and dirt became so thick that they blocked out the sun completely, creating what we commonly referred to as a “nuclear winter.” Without sunlight, every plant and tree on the planet withered and died. Temperatures dropped so low that blizzards and blinding snow storms, something unheard of in the tropics, were now the norm for the planet as a whole. Billions of lives had been lost in the cataclysm. Those fortunate enough to survive were forced to flee their home and start a new life elsewhere.

Those with money could afford to resettle on different worlds within the Torathol empire or other worlds outside the empire. The rest of the refugees, which included Samantha’s family, were now homeless and destitute. Born into a working-class family, Samantha’s parents had little in terms of finances. Despite this, they managed to scrape together what little funds they had to afford passage on a cargo freighter to escape T’nubria. Unfortunately, that was all they could afford. The problems of massive inequality in Torathol, made possible due to the autocratic monarchy’s racist policies and strict caste system, meant people like them had very few options, if any, to advance up the ladder of society. Without money and deeply in debt due to the massive corruption of the empire’s vast, privatized, for-profit infrastructure, Samantha’s parents had no choice but to sell themselves and their daughter into a life of slavery. A life that once again, thanks to the massive corruption and caste system, meant that slavery was still legal in the Torathol Empire, while other worlds in the galaxy had long since outlawed such practices. As a teenager, Samantha ended up being sold off to a powerful crime boss who forced her to work in the sex trade industry. For a generous fee, her owner would offer this young woman to various men to satisfy whatever carnal desires they had. Despite both her owner and his customers valuing her only for her body, she grew cunning and resourceful enough to learn how to take care of herself. Part of her job would sometimes be to seduce a target, usually someone her owner wished to have eliminated, and subtly kill him. Usually she would seduce her target, get as much information out of him as possible, and then murder him via poisoning his food or drink. One such client was the owner of a company that was manufacturing a prototype mech suit for the military. It was Samantha’s job to murder the owner while her fellow slaves had the task of stealing the mech suit. Unfortunately for Sam and her fellow slaves, they were caught in the act. The mission nearly ended in failure until Samantha was forced to don the suit herself and use it to rescue her fellow slaves and kill their target.

With this stolen mech suit now in her possession, Samantha decided rather than hand it over to her owner to sell on the black market to the highest bidder, she instead decided to keep it for herself and use it to win her freedom as well as liberate her fellow slaves. Thus she murdered her owner and became a wanted criminal. Despite her owner and his various clients being interested in her only for her body, they failed to realize that she was no dumb blonde. With her quick learning and ability to think on her feet, she figured out how to use the suit and later, modify it into the protective armour she still wares to this day. In order to make ends meet, Samantha used her newfound suit to become a mercenary for hire. For a fee, she would steal, extort, or eliminate anyone her clients hired her to deal with. Her targets always wound up staring at her with their dead eyes frozen in looks of horror. Thus earning her the nickname “Dead-Eye.”. Her suit provided her with many advantages. It provided her with protection, allowing her to survive in environments that would otherwise be hazardous or even deadly to a human. It also greatly enhanced her strength and protected her from attacks that would have otherwise injured or even killed her. The suit also had various sensors built into it, allowing her scan her surroundings for hidden traps as well as thermal scanners to detect other lifeforms and even see through solid matter such as walls, to monitor where security personnel might be when attempting to break into a secure location. But perhaps the suit’s greatest advantage was that of concealing her identity. With the helmet hiding her face, the body having a gender neutral design, plus the suit’s vocal modulator disguising her voice, everyone simply assumed Dead-Eye was male. Thus, Samantha Alcro, or “Dead-Eye Sammie,” as she came to be known, did nothing to stop this misconception. Since Dead-Eye Sammie was a dangerous criminal wanted on several planets, it made for the perfect cover; the authorities were so busy looking for him, they failed to notice her even when standing right in front of them. Thus, she developed a dual identity. In her suit, “he” was Dead-Eye Sammie, the notorious male mercenary—ruthless, cold, silent and deadly. Outside the suit, she was simply “Ms. Alcro,” the go-between. Anyone who wanted to hire Dead-Eye for a job had to go through her. She took care of all the meetings and arrangements while“he” did the actual dirty work.

Having won her freedom, she set out to do the same to her parents, only to discover that they had been killed by a notorious Thalien crime lord. Dead-Eye never forgot this, and she vowed to make him pay for what he did. Ironically, this man—unaware of her true identity and the fact that he indirectly murdered her parents—contacted her in order to hire Dead-Eye for a job to eliminate a witness about to testify in court about this man’s various criminal activities. Travelling to Thalia, Dead-Eye carried out the job successfully, ensuring that said witness never lived to testify, for which her client paid her handsomely for. Little did he know he was also about to pay for his crimes with his life. With the job completed, Dead-Eye showed up at her client’s mansion unannounced one evening. When questioned why “he” was there, Dead-Eye removed her helmet and revealed her secret identity to this man. He was shocked and angered by the deception, but his anger was nothing compared to hers. Revealing that he was the one responsible for the murder of her parents, she repaid the favour, ensuring that his murder was both slow and excruciatingly painful. When his wife found out, she attempted to contact the authorities. To prevent this, Dead-Eye had been forced to eliminate her as well. Unlike the now elderly Thalien man, his wife had nothing to do with any of his crimes. She was half his age, merely a trophy wife, an arrangement which suited this young woman just fine. As long as she was wined and dined at the fanciest restaurants, shopped at the most prestigious and expensive stores, wore the latest in designer clothing and jewellery, and most importantly, didn’t interfere in her husband’s “business” dealings, she got to live the high life while he paid the bills. In a way, the life of this trophy wife wasn’t that much different from Samantha’s back when she was a sex slave. While this woman had it much better than Samantha ever did, a gilded cage was still a cage, even if this woman willingly chose to live in said cage. The difference was that Dead-Eye’s reasons for killing this crime lord was an act of revenge, a personal matter. For his wife however, she was simply a liability, a loose end to be tied up, nothing more. Dead-Eye felt sympathy nor hatred toward this woman. Like many of her victims, it was simply a job to be done. Yet, Dead-Eye had no idea how this simple quest for vengeance would alter her life in a way she never imagined.

With this Thalien mob boss and his trophy wife eliminated, Dead-Eye prepared to leave when the sound of a baby’s cry caught her attention. Following the sound, she entered a nursery where Dead-Eye discovered a small girl, only a few months old, in her crib, crying out to her mother, who would never come again. Normally, Dead-Eye didn’t care about such things; as far as she was concerned, this was just a job to do. It was nothing personal; she just did what she was hired for, and whoever got hurt in the process didn’t matter. However, this time, it was different. This job was personal. She had been laser-focused on getting revenge against the one who took her parents, she never stopped to think whether this man had a family of his own. She had been so obsessed with revenge that she ended up becoming no different than the very man she just eliminated. Now, how long would it be before this small child grew up and decided to hunt down Dead-Eye to avenge her parents? Looking down at this small crying child, Samantha was suddenly transported back in time, back to her own childhood and the painful memories of herself as a young girl, sobbing while her parents had been taken away from her while she could do nothing about it. She allowed her inner darkness to warp and twist her until this very moment when the horrifying truth struck her head-on; she had become the very thing she despised. She had become no different than the man who took her family from her. Perhaps it was this startling revelation combined with a twinge of guilt, or maybe she simply saw herself in this little infant. Still, whatever it was, Samantha Dead-Eye Sammie Alcro couldn’t bring herself to abandon this small, helpless child, nor could she bring herself to kill the child. Dead-Eye had never even thought about becoming a mother. Family was a liability she couldn’t afford in her line of work. Nonetheless, she was directly responsible for this child now being an orphan. She couldn’t just wash her hands of this, take off, and leave the child to fend for herself. Thus, before departing, Dead-Eye picked up the small child, gently cradling her in her cold, metallic arms, and carefully left the house, leaving behind whatever life this child would have had. This little girl was Dead-Eye’s responsibility now. If nothing else, Dead-Eye wanted to make sure this girl was spared the tragic lifestyle she had to endure.
A Sneak Peek, Mystical Force Vol. 6: The Enemy Within

A Sneak Peek, Mystical Force Vol. 6: The Enemy Within

By |

Satisfied that more innocent lives had been saved, Shi-ria took Chiyoko back with her to Mystic’s home in Aryavarta. Given Chiyoko’s volatile emotional state, Shi-ria felt it was best to bring her back to Mystic to help her deal with these feelings. Using a simple magic ring that Mystic gave her, Shi-ria teleported herself and Chiyoko back to Mystic’s home in Aryavarta. While it was already after midnight in Teikoku City, sunset was only an hour ago in Aryavarta. Thus, both Shi-ria and Chiyoko returned just as the last orange haze of the evening twilight began fading into the western skies over the mountains in the distance. Shi-ria felt a sense of serenity as she watched the colours fade from the evening sky. Unfortunately, she also felt something else: the opposite of serenity coming from Chiyoko. She was still reeling from the earlier battle. Shi-ria could sense her inner turmoil.

“Chiyoko…” she began. She was about to suggest they talk to Mystic to help her calm herself down and focus her mind and emotions, but Chiyoko was too angry to listen.

“I should have never made that promise to you!” Chiyoko abruptly cut her off. “It was a mistake for me not to use the power of the Koldar!”

Shi-ria calmly gazed into Chiyoko’s eyes, “No, it wasn’t.”

“I could have ended things right then and there!” Chiyoko snapped.

“We did put an end to their criminal operation,” Shi-ria reminded her apprentice. “We stopped those criminals. They’re now in police custody, and the girls have been rescued. Is that not sufficient?”

“Do you really think they’ve learned their lesson?” Chiyoko asked, growing angrier. “What’s to stop them from doing the same thing again once they get out of prison?”

“That won’t be for a very long time,” Shi-ria pointed out.

“But it still could happen!” Chiyoko protested. “If I had used my powers to disintegrate them, they’d never be able to hurt anyone again!”

“However, you would gain the power to hurt people,” Shi-ria countered, “and you would hurt them again and again. Don’t you see, Chiyoko? It’s not about those criminals; it’s about you. If you take the quick and easy path and continue to surrender to fear and anger, you’ll end up a Koldar Warrior. Just like in that possible future I foresaw. The future Scarlet Knightwalker is so desperate to prevent. Remember what I told you about the Koldar Warriors? If you follow their path, you’ll be no different and no better than those criminals we’ve just defeated. You won’t care about helping others. All that will matter to you is using your power for your own selfish gain. You’ll end up hurting the very people you claim to care about. Remember what you accidentally did to Shinjo? What if next time, it’s not an accident? What if next time, you do it on purpose?”

Chiyoko just stood there, silently fuming. “YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS OF ME!” Chiyoko hollered, no longer holding back all her pent-up fury. “YOU’RE HOLDING ME BACK BECAUSE YOU’RE AFRAID THAT I MIGHT SURPASS YOU ONE DAY! THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM. YOU DON’T WANT ME TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM BECAUSE I FIGURED OUT A SOLUTION YOU DIDN’T!” As Chiyoko continued her enraged verbal assault, she also began an unintentional physical, psychic assault on Shi-ria as well. Although Chiyoko wasn’t consciously aware of it, she was once again tapping into the dark energy of the Koldar, just like she had done with Dead-Eye earlier. Chiyoko, in her fury, imagined unleashing the same power on Shiria. Chiyoko imagined herself using that same power to break down every cell, every molecule, every atom in Shi-ria’s body. In her rage, Chiyoko imagined tearing Shi-ria apart cell by cell, atom by atom. The difference was that Shi-ria had the power to prevent this. This was one of the first abilities that the Taman Knight learned when they began as an apprentice: how to use their powers to block others, like a Koldar Warrior or a dark mage, from using their powers on them. Shi-ria never forgot how to use that power. However, in this instance, she chose not to use it. Thus, even as Shi-ria could feel Chiyoko’s raw, unchecked power assaulting her cellular structure, and even as the Taman set off alarms inside her, Shi-ria offered no resistance. Shi-ria gritted her teeth and groaned, doubling over in pain. Yet, despite the agony she felt inside of her, she still offered no resistance. Collapsing on the floor, Shi-ria mustered what strength she had and lifted her head. Gazing up into Chiyoko’s eyes, she saw a burning fire of rage, anger, and hatred, but she also saw something else emerging: fear and horror. It suddenly dawned on Chiyoko what she was doing.

Chiyoko, in turn, saw her teacher, the very woman who saved her life, who offered her the chance for something better than the life of a petty criminal, slowly and painfully wasting away right before her eyes. Suddenly, the burning fury she felt within her was quickly snuffed out and replaced with the icy hand of fear and shame over what she was doing. She was responsible for Shi-ria being in the vulnerable state she was in right now. It was just as Shi-ria had predicted; Chiyoko was using her new-found powers to get revenge against someone she believed had wronged her, and for that brief, terrifying moment, she didn’t care how her actions hurt the woman trying to save her life. Fortunately for Chiyoko, this shocking revelation freed her from the dark, seductive grasp of the power of the Koldar. No longer drawing on its dark power to lash out against Shi-ria, Chiyoko gasped in horror as her mentor collapsed unconscious on the floor.

“SHI-RIA!” Chiyoko shouted. Terrified by what she had done, she dropped to her knees and cradled Shi-ria in her arms. Overcome by shame and guilt of her actions, Chiyoko held Shiria close while silently weeping. “I’m sorry!” she whispered. “Please, don’t die!”

Mystic and Noonien rushed into the room, having sensed what happened. They looked at each other and communicated telepathically. Using his magic, Noonien gently lifted Shi-ria up and levitated her onto her bed. Meanwhile, Mystic kneeled next to Chiyoko. Sensing her thoughts, the turmoil of emotions swirling around inside her, she gently took hold of Chiyoko. Chiyoko, in turn, buried her face in Mystic’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Mystic gently hugged her, placing her hand on the back of Chiyoko’s head. She sent waves of calm, soothing energy into Chiyoko’s mind using her telepathy. It’s alright, Mystical mentally told her. Shi-ria will be alright.

Mystical Force Vol. 6: The Enemy Within. Coming soon…
From my father on Memorial Day

From my father on Memorial Day

By |

Although Memorial Day is almost over, I received this email from my father and it was so profound I just had to share it, despite the fact that by the time I post this, the day will almost be over. First a little background about my father. He was born in Eastern Germany (now part of Poland) in the closing days of the War, under the rule of Hitler and the Nazis. Like many Germans, my grandmother took him and fled to Berlin to try and escape the invading Soviets. He spent the first months of his life living in Berlin while the allies were bombing it into the ground. Like many Europeans of the time, his family (my father and grandparents) moved to the United States with little more than the clothes on their back, trying to start a new life. Having lived through that, and growing up in America at the height of the Cold War, he was-to quote Billy Joel’s song ‘Leningrad’-a “cold war kid in McCarthy time. Stop ’em at the 38th parallel. Blast those yellow reds to hell.” Thus having lost his home land and family possessions to the Russians and later the communist government of East Germany, he wanted to fight communism and thus served in Vietnam from 1965 to 1966 as a “naive young yahoo wanting to do the right thing for [his] country” (his words, not mine). Thus when he sent me this email I wanted to share it with all of you, as it was too profound not to.

A few years ago I did a past-life hypnotherapy via Youtube. During that time I had memories of a previous life, where I too was a Vietnam vet, one who didn’t survive. I specifically recall being in a field of tall grass, seeing a helicopter in the distance taking off and being surrouned by my fellow soldiers, including one to my right whom I knew only as “Sarge”-my superior I’m guessing. I got the distinct impression that I was in Vietnam and the year was 1964. Next I remembered lying in a hospital bed looking up at a wooden ceiling, a post-op room I believe-like something out of an episode of M*A*S*H. Then I found myself floating in the air, looking down at a young 20-something man with short black hair, a rather athletic build, lying shirtless in bed with a bandage around his/my abdomen, a red blood stain in the middle. My head was tilted to the left and my eyes were closed, looking as if I were sleeping. I knew that I had died and this was my spirit/soul looking down at my recently desceased body before I returned home to the spirit world.

I bring this up because all my life, I’ve never been able to understand why someone would willing choose a career in the military, much less go to war with enthusiasm. After going through that past life regression, I now see why I’ve always felt that way. While in this life I have no memory of that previous life (I don’t even know what my name was in that life) that experience did leave a mark on my soul. Having gone through that in one life, my soul said, “NEVER AGAIN!” Because just before the past-life regression ended I asked “Why am I here?”-as in, why did I choose this specific life, why did I choose to write and publish my books. A voice in my head answered, “to create.” Being a soldier in combat in a previous life, I had obviously caused destruction in that life, so in this life my soul chose to create instead of destroy. That would also explain why I like to use my writing to discuss such deep philosophical issues. To help create a world where armed forces won’t be necessary. A world where no one would even consider turing to force to solve their problems.

But enough about me, below is the email my father [Norbert W. Weidhuner] sent me for you to read. His words are in bold and italics, to differentiate from mine, so there’s no confusion as to whom is saying what. The images posted are what he sent in his email. I do not know where the all came from, nor do I claim ownership of any of them, they are there to help illustrate his point, not for my financial gain so no copyright infringement is intended (just to cover my bases for legal reasons). Now without further adeu, here’s his message for Memorial Day, Namaste:

After experiencing combat, you become part of a unique group, and money can’t buy your way in. Combat teaches you more about the human experience than anything else. It’s a profound event that involves feelings like hate, love, God, pain, fear, courage, life, and death all at once.

You learn a lot about yourself: Are you brave or not? What are your physical and mental limits? Are you a good comrade or not? You also confront the possibility of death in a much more personal way than most people. It becomes a part of who you are, and you can’t avoid it.

You might even find answers to some of life’s biggest questions: Why am I here? What’s the meaning of it all?

For some, combat is about being heroic and adventurous, and it’s a way to stand out and prove themselves. It’s a significant part of their lives. A few enjoy it, the thrill, the adrenaline rush. In the end, combat screws up your mind and some never get over it. I was lucky. For me the nightmares stopped for the most part after a year.

 Most veterans are better people because we looked the elephant in the eye and didn’t flinch.

The gunner mans the machine gun on one side of a Huey gun ship, the crew chief mans the gun on the other side. We had a crew chief who would have the pilot turn around so he could take pictures of his kills. He would boast and brag about his kills. A total psycho. Except for mob hitman, there aren’t too many job openings for a killing machine once he returns to civilian life.

Our commanding officer gave us an orientation speech when we arrived in Vietnam. He was a combat helicopter pilot. He told us “you never get used to it, even after a year of combat. When you get incoming fire, your knees turn to water and your asshole puckers”. I have to agree. Only psychos aren’t scared. But you do your job. You protect your comrades. That’s what counts.

Memories

I know some just don’t get why we as Vietnam veterans or any combat veterans speak of ‘dark days’ and ‘sleepless nights.’ There is just no way to explain it to anyone who has not been in a hostile war environment.

There’s not an explanation in the world to bring to light the loss of a friend who has died on foreign soil, In an instant a life is removed from us. And in a lifetime, we can never forget that loss. 

We were kids planted in the middle of a war, and as kids our loyalties ran deep. We were still innocent and unknowing when we stepped into war. We were unprepared for what would be required for us to survive.

In a sentiment that’s often shared by many other combat veterans, The darkness we speak of is not the darkness everyone else sees. Ours is more of a dusky haze that clouds our emotions. It’s a spirit that can take us from contentment to sadness in a heartbeat. It can be brought on by most anything. And it often is.

So, when I speak of this, I speak of memories and a broken spirit, a darkness that seals our souls up for a time. Sure—I will snap out of it and return to what we call ‘normality’ for a while. But what we have been through is a life-changing experience. When you see the blank look or the tear, when you see the silence that has overtaken us, just realize that this is the darkness we speak of.”

People will ask, “When were you in Vietnam?” No matter how many years have passed since my service, the answer always feels like it should be, “Every day.”  

Please don’t think that the things I say are just a robotic reply to gain attention, I’m not looking for sympathy — just understanding. And if you can’t understand what I mean, then just walk away. That’s a privilege that we as veterans don’t have.

Every one of us reacts differently in the face of life threatening danger. Some people indeed get excited, some depressed, but most people I met, including myself, are just scared.

Do soldiers get scared going into battle? If soldiers don’t get scared in battle, then something is seriously wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being scared. Being scared is not cowardice. Being scared makes you careful and cautious. Those who aren’t scared usually get careless and get themselves or their buddies killed.

Anyone can die anytime in combat. The important part is to not freeze and do your job.

In honor of all the men in my unit who didn’t make it back home like I did. Especially my replacement. When my tour of duty ended, I had 6 months of active service left. They offered to let me out 3 months early if I were to extend 3 months of duty in Vietnam. I said, “No thank you, I’ll take my 6 months stateside”. Much as I loved my country and as much as I wanted to fight commie pinkos  since Russians were occupying my birth country  (East Germany), I had enough of combat and didn’t feel we were really helping the Vietnamese people by propping up a corrupt government so that the military industrial complex could get rubber from the rubber plantations, that and pilots bragging about shooting a rocket up a water buffalos ass to blow the farmer riding on him all to hell. A couple of weeks after leaving Vietnam, I got a letter from a buddy stating that my replacement while sleeping in my old cot, took a direct mortar hit early in the morning and got wasted. Had I chosen to extend my tour, that would have been me and I wouldn’t be here today.

We won most of the battles, but somehow our country lost the war.

The 173d Airborne Brigade took part in 14 designated campaigns in RVN. It remained in combat longer than any other American military unit since the Revolutionary War. It earned four unit citations, had 13 Medal of Honor winners, 1601 Sky Soldiers were killed in action and another 8,435 were wounded in action. The 10,041 casualties incurred by the 173d Brigade were:

♠ Five times greater than those suffered by the 187th Airborne Regiment in Korea,

♠ Four times greater than those suffered by the 11th Airborne Division in the Pacific during WWII,

♠ More than twice those suffered by the 101st Airborne Division in Europe in WWII,

♠ Two-thirds of those suffered by the entire 82nd Airborne Division in WW2.

The poem below by a veteran pretty much says it all

And finally…

A collection of poems:

A collection of poems:

By |

A brief collection of my attempts at writing poetry:

Poem # 1:

I write whatever comes to mind.

No reason, no rhyme.

I let the verse go where it pleases.

Where it goes, I have no idea.

Does it rhyme? It doesn’t matter!

On the wind, my thoughts scatter.

Is there meaning to my verse?

You decide.

Poem # 2:

The prose flows.

Where it goes?

I do not know where it goes,

when the prose flows.

Poem # 3:

When I meditate I let my mind go free,

Where will my thoughts take me?

Beyond the Earth, the physical confines,

Beyond reality, I go in my mind.

To world, dimensions, that I create,

full of peace, beyond fear and hate.

Someone once said, “I think therefore I AM”,

therefore, I AM free!

Poem # 4:

On the wings of tomorrow,

the night felt my sorrow.

On the crimson tide,

My thoughts do ride.

When I dream I am free,

Where does my mind take me?

Into my own reality.

For what is a dream?

Another state of being.

Total Eclipse of the Soul

Total Eclipse of the Soul

By |

I’ve seen videos and read blog posts about the spiritual significance of a solar eclipse. And this eclipse that happened back on April 8th did indeed provide some insight into my own spiritual journey, in ways I had never imagined. In a way, the incidents of April 8th forced me to look at my own darkness eclipsing my inner light and casting a shadow over my soul. I had been looking forward for years now to seeing a total solar eclipse in person. And was worried when the forecast for Southern Ontario called for overcast. I had been divided on whether or not to head down to South Central Ontario (Niagara Falls or Port Dover) or out to Eastern Ontario (both of which were in the path of totality). I chose Eastern Ontario because first it was closer to my home and I was hoping that since I’d be driving home in rush hour I’d face less traffic since I’d be heading back into the city, rather than coming home from Niagara Falls and driving through Toronto in rush hour. Second, I wanted to avoid Niagara Falls because I knew it would be swarming with visitors coming to see the eclipse and I’ve never been comfortable in large crowds. Needless to say, I was disappointed to find the overcast prevented me from seeing the eclipse (and to rub salt in the wounds, learning upon getting home that evening that the clouds cleared slightly at Niagara Falls thus I probably would have seen it had I gone there instead). Third, the day of the eclipse was my mother’s birthday and we decided to go to a bar called “Jake’s on Main” (Main St. Unionville) and I figured I’d never make it back on time had I gone to Niagara Falls. After dinner there was discussion on who got the bill for the restaurant. I admit that I was slightly annoyed at being asked to help pay for dinner, considering I had just paid off my credit card debts and am in the process of rebuilding my bank account, thus have been trying to watch my finances/expenses. Fourth, upon getting home, I had some messages on my Social media pages about paying others to help boost my number of followers and get more reviews. I admit I wasn’t feeling particularly sociable, thus it was hard to respond to my messages when all I was really thinking was “Stop bothering me and leave me alone! I’m not in the mood for idle chit chat!”

As I was lying in bed meditating, trying to deal with my turbulent emotions and epiphany hit me, it was all about ego. I was blaming others for my feeling cheated out of seeing the eclipse. My angels for not guiding me to the right location, my brother for not suggesting we go to Niagara Falls or Hamilton instead of out East (though I probably wouldn’t have listened even if he had), my family for making me rush home to join them for dinner. God/nature for the cloudy weather spoiling the view. The people on social media asking me for money to help promote my work and so on. I realized that was simply an excuse to justify my feelings. Conversations with God has often said to live life without expectations is true freedom, yet giving up expectations about my life and my literary career is something I still haven’t mastered. I now understand the first two noble truths of the Buddha:

  1. In existence there is suffering
  2. The cause of suffering is selfish desire

My desire to see the eclipse on my own, and make it back in time to join my family for dinner (as they say, I wanted to have my cake and eat it too), my desire for my books to be best sellers and get plenty of reviews, my fears about my finances and refusal to spend my money (or my being a cheapskate I guess would be more accurate) have been my selfish desires, which in turn caused my suffering for the day. In addition to that, this blog is ironically the same thing while simultaneously being therapeutic. My ego driven fear of being judged by others upon reading this is another selfish desire. After all fear of the judgment of others is ego driven; imagining others looking down upon me for my behaviour and my ego making up excuses to try and justify it (if only to myself). This in turn also contributed to what caused my suffering for the day.

“I still have a long way to go, but I’m already so far from where I used to be, and I’m proud of that.” ~Unknown (quote posted on “tinybuddha.com”)

I admit, I’ve still got along way to go in terms of spiritual growth. In fact I had forgotten about a post I read online https://tinybuddha.com/blog/5-mistakes-people-make-spiritual-journey/ particularly the part about “Thinking I am above those who are ‘unenlightened’”. I admit, I still tend to think of myself as “more enlightened” than most people. I’ve come to realize today that despite how much I’ve grown as a spiritual being and how far I’ve come from the man I was even just 10 years ago, I still have so far to go. As someone once said, “Those who think themselves wise are usually foolish. Those who admit to being foolish are on the path to wisdom.” I know nothing. The solar eclipse of April 8th 2024 was indeed a significant spiritual moment in my life, in ways I had not expected. As the fifth mistake from the “tinybuddha.com” blog says, “I used to believe that if I were spiritually awakened, no bad things would ever happen to me again. I would never feel sad, only be surrounded by nice people, and from there on life would always feel positive. I could not be more wrong. Spirituality is not about suppressing or diminishing your dark side. Spirituality is about raising your mindfulness to a level where you can always make the conscious choice to do the right thing, in spite of what happens and what you’re feeling.”

Both Conversations with God and Friendship with God says that when things are not serving you, you should bless them and let them go. The “bless them” part is something I’m still having trouble working on. Yet these things that I can’t bless, that I still may curse/blame have indeed served me by teaching me valuable lessons. Or as Conversations would say, they have served me by reminding me that we all are beings of pure light and love since we’re not hear to learn anything but to remember who we truly are. May this blog post help you in the same way with whatever may have triggered you in life in a similar manner. By reminding you of this, I am in turn helping to remind myself. For as Friendship says, the best way to help yourself is by helping others. If you wish to feel joy, bring joy to others. If you wish to remind yourself to let go of ego and bless even those events that you may have cursed before, help others do the same. They say “God helps those who help themselves” and since we are all one with God by helping others we help ourselves.

Also, upon further reflection, had I gone to Niagara Falls or Port Dover, I probably would have seen the eclipse and thus wouldn’t have felt the way I did and missed out on some very important spiritual growth that day. Also upon waking up the following morning I felt strange, slightly uncomfortable. I remember reading somewhere that feelings of comfort come from the ego, from recognizing familiarity. When you experience something familiar, it provides comfort because we remember it feels good. When we experience something new, we have no memories to draw upon for reference. Thus we feel uncomfortable because we’re truly facing the unknown. Yet as Conversations again stated, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

In closing I would like to add that I now realize that missing out on witnessing the eclipse was actually a blessing in disguise. While seeing the beauty of totality would have been awesome and given me some pleasant memories, the spiritual growth I gained from missing out will prove much more helpful in my ultimate spiritual evolution. Namaste!

Feelings are the language of the soul

Feelings are the language of the soul

By |

Yesterday I used the money from my mutual funds to pay off my credit card bills in full. I had around $6000 in credit card debt. Naturally as a result, when I looked at my monthly budget I had a deficit. After this the usual fears came back about “How can I continue my writing?” “Will I be forced to give up my dreams? Stop publishing Mystical Force and Liberator: The People’s Guard simply because I can’t afford it?” As always whenever these problems arise, I turn to my angels for guidance and to release my fears. As I was lying on my bed meditating, I felt something strange. It almost felt like a presence in my room (even though no one else was there), though even this isn’t entirely accurate. I apologize for not being able to describe it better, the truth is I honestly don’t know how to describe what I felt. I suppose it’s like trying to describe what a near death experience feels like. Try to explain it to someone who’s never had one, and they probably won’t be able to understand because they have no frame of reference to compare it to. And if you have had one, then you already know what it’s like so no explanation is necessary.

Having recently read “Godtalk” by Neale Donald Walsch, it mentioned his words from his first book “Conversations with God”, which stated that God speaks to us through feelings because “feelings are the language of the soul”. After I was finished and I went down to the kitchen to get a bite to eat, I began recalling the stories contributed by various people in “Godtalk” about their own experiences/encounters with God, their angels or whatever divine/higher power you believe in. I didn’t so much recall a specific story from the book, it was more an overall impression of the various stories combined. Stories of people who had traumatic experiences in their lives (going through cancer, losing a loved one to some illness and so on) and it dawned on me. These people have gone through much worse than I have. I’ve never had cancer (and I hope to keep it that way). I’ve never been in such dire financial straights that I’ve been forced to live homeless on the street, begging for food or even just enough money to buy some fries at McDonalds and have that be my meal for the day. While I have lost loved ones in my life (pets, my grandparents, a cousin younger than me) even those have never left me so distraught that I began to lose faith or think God turned his back on me. And yet, despite such traumatic experiences that befell others, things turned around for them.

As this dawned on me, I realized that my problems were nothing compared to what happen to some of the people in “Godtalk”. It put things into perspective and made me realize that my fears and concerns were for nothing. My angel numbers (according to the website I often visit: Sacred Scribes) have often told me that I’m manifesting material rewards of following my soul mission – my writing, as I one did a hypnotherapy session, and asked my angels “Why am I here?” (as in why did I choose this specific life right now). A voice in my head answered, “To create”. Which is what I’m doing through my writing. The truth is I’ve been very fortunate in my life: I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my refrigerator, and I do have a full time warehouse job that allows me to pay room and board to my parents (yes I still live with them since I can’t afford a place of my own, though honestly that whole the kids move out when they turn 18 is more of a North American thing, my parents raised me more European, where it’s not uncommon for multiple generations to still live under the same roof).

The truth is I AM quite blessed in my life and I AM grateful for these things. Once I realized that I suddenly felt much better. My worries were gone, and I felt happier than I’ve felt in the past few days, possibly past few weeks. This just further proves what was said in “Conversations with God”, how God speaks to us through our feelings, which are the language of the soul. Having just read “Godtalk” I’ve begun meditating in silence, no music, no sounds, just lying in my room with only the ambient noise, trying to empty my mind and focus either on my breathing or the black void I see when I close my eyelids. As Neale said in “Godtalk” God speaks to us in the silence between our thoughts. To paraphrase Qui-Gon Jinn’s words to Anakin in Phantom Menace “When you learn to quite your mind, you’ll hear [God] speaking to you.”

It’s better to give than to receive

It’s better to give than to receive

By |

The other day I was on Facebook when I got a notification that someone liked a video I reposted a while back. It was an interview with Neale Donald Walsh author of “Conversations with God”. Honestly I had completely forgotten about it until I clicked on the link and rewatched the video. What struck me was the part where Neale told of how God spoke to him about thinking about your universal or cosmic self. Basically, the point was to think of yourself by thinking of others. If you want to feel joy in your life, bring joy into the lives of others. If you want to stop feeling depressed or angry, help others out of their depression/anger. Too often in life, we approach things with the attitude of “What can I get out of this?” Rather than “What do I have to give?” I admit as an author I’ve often fallen into this trap. “What can I do to get more reviews? How can I boost sales and make more money off of my work? How do I get more followers on social media?” The problem with this mentality it you’re coming from a mindset of lacking. What you’re really saying is “I don’t have enough sales! I’m not making enough money!” As the law of attraction states, when this is your sponsoring thought, God/the universe (whatever higher power you believe in) responds, “Yes, this is true,” and thus sends you more feelings of lacking, of not having enough. As I’ve often said, the problem with this is that it becomes easy for greed to set in. Eventually, it doesn’t matter how many sales you’ve made, or how many followers you have, it’s always “NEVER ENOUGH!” The key is to not concern yourself with sales, or followers. I’ve learned this the hard way (and still am). When I began posting videos on Tik Tok and YouTube I checked my analytics and found most people stopped watching after 30 seconds. I’ve looked up various things on how to create more engaging videos, how to get more followers and so on. I realized that most of what they were suggesting, such as following the latest trends in videos wasn’t something I was interested in. Much like my writing, I could just forego crafting an interesting narrative and simply churn out some piece of fluff based on the latest fad du jour, but that’s not who I am. I read an article a while back about people (like myself) who are “old souls”(here’s the link to the article in case you’re interested) and one of the things it said was that “You’d rather talk about dreams, ideas, or even the meaning of life instead of what’s trendy right now. For an old soul, deep conversations are like a breath of fresh air. They help you connect with people on a real level…But it might also make some people think you’re too serious or hard to talk to… it could also scare some folks away if they’re not ready to dive in so deep.”

I acknowledge this, as it would explain the lack of engagement I’ve gotten, also why I don’t blog or post online as much as others. I’m the type of guy who’d rather wait until I find something meaningful to say rather than simply post/blog away about nothing simply for likes, clicks and follows. It might gain me more followers but the person they’d be following wouldn’t be the real me. I’d be forcing myself to live a lie. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to say for the moment, plus I needed to fill my monthly blog quota (I don’t actually have a quota, I try to post something at least once a month but as I said above, I don’t post just for the sake of posting). Either way I…. honestly can’t think of anything more to say, or how to end this post, so I’ll just end with…

Namaste!
Literary Titan review: Liberator vol. 2

Literary Titan review: Liberator vol. 2

By |

Thank you Literary Titan for the glowing review of my latest book, Liberator: The People’s Guard: Vol. 2 Genetic Arms Race. https://literarytitan.com/2023/12/23/liberator-the-peoples-guard-vol-2-genetic-arms-race-2/

In Liberator: The People’s Guard: Vol. 2 Genetic Arms Race, the second installment in Craig Weidhuner’s dynamic series, we are introduced to the fascinating world of genetic supremacy, a sharp departure from the traditional nuclear arms race. This science fiction narrative centers on Tovarich Revanov, also known as the Liberator, Ruthenia’s state-sponsored superhero. Endowed with extraordinary abilities due to a secret DNA-altering formula, Tovarich represents the pinnacle of human potential, evoking comparisons to a modern-day Superman.

Weidhuner’s novel adeptly explores the geopolitical tensions that escalate as rival nations, notably Usonia, become entangled in a desperate quest to replicate Ruthenia’s groundbreaking achievement. This pursuit sets off a chain of events, teetering on the brink of an international crisis, and raising the possibility of former adversaries uniting to confront a common threat. The narrative places Tovarich at the heart of this tumultuous scenario, posing intriguing questions about his role in the unfolding drama. The book thrives on its brisk pacing and action-driven plot, making it an exhilarating read. Weidhuner’s writing style is accessible and engaging, perfect for a leisurely reading experience without demanding excessive intellectual exertion. The fight scenes are particularly noteworthy, vividly rendered with cinematic flair, reminiscent of epic battles from a Marvel blockbuster. These sequences add a palpable sense of excitement to the story. Weidhuner shows notable growth as a storyteller from the first book in the series. While the initial installment was criticized for its predictability, this sequel introduces unexpected twists and a heightened sense of suspense, maintaining the reader’s engagement throughout. The novel also shines in its exploration of pertinent themes, such as the risks of extremism, illustrated through the actions of a far-right military general. These elements add depth to the narrative, encouraging readers to ponder the broader implications of the story’s events.

Genetic Arms Race is a commendable addition to Craig Weidhuner’s series Liberator: The People’s Guard, offering a blend of sci-fi intrigue, action, and thought-provoking themes. It stands as a testament to Weidhuner’s evolving narrative skills and his ability to craft a story that is both entertaining and reflective of contemporary issues.
[Updated] What is a ‘Mystical Force’?

[Updated] What is a ‘Mystical Force’?

By |

You’ve all heard the term ‘Mystical Force’, but what exactly does it mean?

“All beings radiate a life force, but some have an additional ‘Mystical Force’. Mystical Forces are divided into three main categories: Magical Essence, Demonic Aura and Spiritual Powers. Though on the surface these powers seem identical and indistinguishable there are subtle differences between them.

Magical Essence:

Is the generic term for beings with magic powers (called mages), regardless of what type of magic it is. The characters of Mystic and Noonien are two examples of characters with Magical Essence as their Mystical Force. Magic powers may be hereditary, natural to the species/race or from other/artificial means (magic potions, objects, and so on) Depending on the exact nature of the powers it may be necessary to recite incantations to engage specific spells. However, if one is powerful enough in their magic skills, they need only to think of the desired effect to make it happen, such as Mystic or Noonien simply casting a spell with a wave of their hand, rather than performing an elaborate ritual, or even saying a specific magic phrase for different actions to be taken.

Demonic Aura:

The generic term used to describe the powers demons have. Demonic Aura, like Magical Essence, can be natural to the race/species but is also hereditary and is passed down from one or more of the parents. Thus a human with a demon for an ancestor can inherit Demonic Aura via it being passed down through the generations, though in that case their Demonic Aura is generally weaker and may even not be noticeable (the individual may not even be aware that they have it). Unlike magic, the powers of Demonic Aura are less direct. Demons generally use their powers to enhance their abilities (strength, speed, stamina, healing). In some cases it may allow the user to change their appearance and or form (gaining claws/wings and so on) Any other powers/abilities their Demonic Aura gives them are more general in nature and unlike Magical Essence they don’t require spells or incantations to work. Tokijin is an example of a character with Demonic Aura as his Mystical Force. Despite the name, individuals with Demonic Aura don’t get their powers from the Devil, as the Order of the Cross claims, it would be more accurate to describe their abilities as natural traits of their race/species. Demons are simply another species living on Earth. Despite their appearance and abilities, they’re not much different than humans. Like humans, some are kind and compassionate, some are malevolent and hostile and most simply want to live normal lives. It is simple prejudice for being different from humans that makes people fear and hate them.

Spiritual Powers:

Is the generic term used to describe the third main type of Mystical Force. Characters like Shi-ria, Sister Rose and the other members of the Order of the Cross are examples of characters with Spiritual Powers as their Mystical Force. Spiritual Powers are more vague than the other two and are the most difficult to achieve. Unlike Magical Essence or Demonic Aura, Spiritual Powers take years of training and discipline to master. Most people who have these powers usually have strong spiritual/religious beliefs. They also tend to be monks or nuns (though this isn’t necessarily a requirement) and they tend to live simplistic non-materialistic lives in order to strengthen their spiritual beliefs and powers. Like Demonic Aura, Spiritual Powers are used to enhance one’s abilities (strength, speed, stamina, healing) as well as providing a form of ESP (such as visions of the future, a warning or ‘feeling’ of danger and so on). Some (like Shi-ria) believe that these powers lie dormant in everyone and with proper training and practice, anyone can learn to harness these powers. Others (like the Order of the Cross) believe this power only appears in certain people chosen by God and by extension, those who aren’t ‘chosen’ by God who have similar powers must have gotten them from the devil. While Spiritual Powers are developed through training, the time it takes one to develop such powers and their skill level may vary based on the individuals. Some have to train long and hard to master Spiritual Powers while others are just naturally gifted.

It should also be noted that these three categories are not mutually exclusive. For example, if a mage and a demon were to conceive and child then that child could theoretically have both Magical Essence and Demonic Aura. So which would choose? What’s your Mystical Force?
A sneak peek at Liberator vol. 2:

A sneak peek at Liberator vol. 2:

By |

Coming this November, Liberator: The People’s Guard volume 2: Genetic Arms Race! And now I’d like to present you all with a special sneak peek! A small excerpt from the book, enjoy!

Location: The Heptagon, Federal District, Republic of Usonia

It had been several months since Mongo’s rampage in Movogorsky. The attempt to obtain the formula from Grigori Chekhov had been deemed a failure. Yet despite this setback, General Flagg was more optimistic than ever about his attempt to create his own version of the Liberator. After his phone call with Mr. Torahara, Flagg had been delivered a suitcase containing “top secret” information. Inside was exactly what he had been looking for all this time—the formula necessary to create his own genetically enhanced metamorphic-human, one loyal to Usonia and with the same strength and invulnerability as the Liberator. The difference with this version was that Flagg didn’t trust anyone with the formula. So, rather than choose a candidate and genetically modify that person, Flagg simply provided a sample of his own DNA to create his own version from scratch, a clone of himself that would be programmed to be unquestioningly loyal to both Flagg and Usonia. Thanks again to both the information and equipment provided by Torahara Industries, Flagg managed to create his clone. The clone was grown in a lab like a culture of bacteria and programmed like a computer. This Usonian “Liberator” was everything Flagg had hoped for—a state-sponsored hero who shared all his beliefs because Flagg had personally overseen them to be programmed into its DNA. Now, he was ready to show off his creation to a top secret meeting of military and government officials.

Having temporarily closed off an outdoor space on the north side of the building, General Flagg was addressing an assembled crowd of top military brass and government officials, “My fellow Usonians,” he began proudly. “Our nation has faced many threats over the years, but none so great as the one that exists right now over in Ruthenia—a threat known simply as the Liberator—a genetically enhanced super soldier, created by those godless commie pinkos for the sole purpose of destroying our nation and our way of life. While some out there are content to let Ruthenia win this genetic arms race, I can assure you I am not one of them. Just as we’ve spent the past several decades trying to win the nuclear arms race, so too shall we win this genetic arms race. For today, I am proud to present to you our nation’s newest weapon in the war against tyranny. Our own state-sponsored hero. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Patriot!”

The general motioned toward a large black metallic box several feet away, large enough to hold a person. Some attendees expressed shock and disgust that the general would keep a person contained in a box; it seemed inhuman. This was another example of General Flagg’s irrational view on national security; his country’s newest hero, a tool to be kept sealed away in storage until called for, then placed back into storage until needed again. However, this shock and disgust was nothing compared to the reaction of the gathered dignitaries when two soldiers, under Flagg’s orders, opened the box to reveal the Patriot.

The Patriot looked less like an idealized version of the ultimate soldier and more like a creature from some post-apocalyptic zombie horror movie. He looked like General Flagg if the general had been killed and brought back to life by a mad scientist as some experiment gone wrong. His skin was pale and pockmarked, his eyes appeared sunken into his skull, and his massive muscular frame looked like he had overdosed on a lifetime supply of steroids. His uniform was not unlike the Liberator’s in terms of design—a blue one-piece suit with red and white vertical stripes over his abdomen under a large white star in the middle of the chest, much like the large yellow star on the Liberator’s costume. Just as the Liberator had a yellow cape, the Patriot had a red and white striped one, making him look like he was wearing the Usonian flag on his back. While the Liberator’s face was partially concealed by a red bandana/mask, the Patriot’s face was completely exposed. Given that he had a bald misshapen head and a pair of grey eyes that seemed fixed in an intense frozen gaze of pure rage, many guests silently wished the Patriot had been given something to cover his face. Some of the dignitaries had to turn and look away. The fierce gaze of their so-called “hero” gave the impression that he would attack and kill them simply for looking at him. One of those dignitaries was another high-ranking general in the Usonian armed forces, General Roberto Sanchez.

General Sanchez was only a few years younger than Flagg. He was slightly shorter and pudgier than Flagg, with a round face, brown eyes, and thick black hair with only slight signs of grey. While he may have lacked Flagg’s physical finesse, his intellect made up for it. Unlike Flagg, Sanchez wasn’t a hard-line conservative; he was actually more liberal. While he was still a patriot and ardent supporter of the military, Sanchez didn’t see conspiracies all around him, nor did he believe that the military should actively go out looking for wars to fight. He was sane and rational enough to know when to pick up a weapon and when to put one down. He was the type of man who preferred to use words and diplomacy to solve problems while, at the same time, not afraid to use force when necessary. Unlike Flagg, General Sanchez didn’t look at the Patriot and see a soldier; all he saw was Frankenstein’s monster dressed like a character out of the comic books he used to read as a child. He turned to General Flagg, “This… thing is your idea of our state-sponsored hero?”

“Don’t let his appearance fool you, general,” Flagg responded indignantly, “I assure you he’s as deadly as the Liberator.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is,” General Sanchez replied. “I was more concerned about his ability to follow orders.”

“I’ve created the Patriot to be the perfect soldier,” Flagg explained. “One who is unquestioningly loyal to our country and won’t hesitate to follow orders.”

Sanchez looked the Patriot over closely, “He looks kinda like you, general.”

“Of course, he looks like me,” Flagg said, slightly insulted. “I provided the DNA sample necessary to clone him.”

“Clone him?” Sanchez replied with genuine surprise, “You’re telling me you’ve been secretly cloning yourself? Why wasn’t I notified?”

“National security,” Flagg replied. Even among his fellow officers, Flagg hesitated to reveal too much information to them. As far as he was concerned, no one, not even the president of Usonia, especially those who weren’t hard-line conservatives, could be trusted. “Observe,” Flagg addressed the rest of the crowd. He signalled a small group of soldiers, who drew their guns and began firing on the Patriot. Just as Flagg had hoped, the bullets simply bounced off the Patriot. The Patriot turned and looked at the soldiers shooting at him but took no action.

“Fellow soldiers. Patriotic citizens,” the Patriot spoke in a firm voice that gave no hint of emotion, “Accidental friendly fire, do not engage,” the Patriot stated in an almost robotic tone.

Flagg nodded to the soldiers, who holstered their side arms. Turning to another group of soldiers sitting at a nearby table, Flagg waved his hand, signalling them to begin the next phase of the demonstration. Using small remote control devices, the soldiers sent a small group of robotic drones up in the air, hovering around the Patriot. The drones fired several grenades and small rockets at the Patriot. The weapons exploded upon contact with the Patriot, but he remained unharmed and unfazed. He stood there completely motionless, like a statue.

“Patriot,” Flagg called out, “destroy those drones.”

“Understood,” the Patriot replied before turning to attack. Leaping up several feet in the air, higher than any average person could, the Patriot grabbed each of the drones mid-air and crushed them in his hands. Even the spinning blades of the drones’ helicopters shattered upon impact with his skin. The Patriot turned these high-powered yet compact military weapons into debris as easily as if they were paper origami. The various dignitaries, even General Sanchez, had to admit they were impressed by what they just witnessed.

Just then, a young officer ran up to one of the captains. He delivered an emergency message to him. After reading it, the captain rushed over to General Sanchez, “Excuse me, sir. This message just came in,” he handed the note to the general.

General Sanchez took the note and read it, “A civilian aircraft flying nearby has suffered some sort of malfunction,” he warned the others. “It has lost control and looks like it’s going to crash right here.” The rest of the brass looked up and noticed a commercial jet in the distance with thick black smoke appeared to be coming from it. It was obvious that it was about to crash right into their headquarters. Their new super soldier, their counterpart to the Liberator, noticed it too. Without waiting for orders, he flew up toward the plane, flew directly underneath it, held it up, and safely guided it to a landing near their location.

General Flagg turned to address the others, “See? I told you our hero would do a better job than the Liberator. You think that commie pinko would have saved innocent lives? The state probably would have just ordered him to destroy the plane because it posed a threat to national security.” However, the others weren’t listening to the general. Instead, they raced over to the plane to assist in evacuating the passengers. General Sanchez ordered his lieutenant to bring medics just in case. With the plane’s evacuation slides deployed at all the exits, the passengers began disembarking. They were all civilians, some travelling on business, others on vacation. They were of various ages, genders, and ethnicities. Some were citizens of Usonia; some were from other nations visiting the country as tourists. Unfortunately, Flagg’s new super soldier didn’t seem to care. He stood there, taking note of the various passengers as they disembarked. They looked uneasy being surrounded by soldiers, especially by the grotesque appearance of Flagg’s super soldier. The other soldiers were busy aiding the evacuees and reassuring them that they weren’t under arrest for breaching national security. Little did the other soldiers know that Flagg’s abomination had other plans. Noticing the skin colour and some of the passengers’ fashion choices, the Patriot zeroed in on some passengers who didn’t, at least on the surface, look to be natives of Usonia.

“Potential terrorist threat,” the Patriot said in a cold, almost robotic tone. “Eliminate threat. Defend the homeland.” Before anyone realized what was happening, the Patriot raced toward these passengers, grabbed two of them by their throats, and squeezed until their necks snapped. The other passengers panicked and proceeded to flee in terror. Even the soldiers attempting to assist in the evacuation were in shock.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, SOLDIER?” Sanchez barked, “LET THEM GO NOW!”

The Patriot ignored his orders and continued targeting passengers who didn’t look like light-skinned Usonian civilians. Seeing one Caucasian man wearing a hat with the Usonian flag on it, the Patriot simply said, “Patriotic citizen, do not engage.” The Patriot turned his attention to two other passengers, who, by their appearance, seemed to be from Aryavarta. Whether they were citizens of this country simply visiting Usonia or they had immigrated to Usonia and were now living here made no difference to the Patriot. They didn’t look like General Flagg, so in the Patriot’s mind, that made them potential terrorist threats. “Eliminate threat. Defend the homeland.” The Patriot grabbed them both and proceeded to snap their necks like twigs.

“LEAVE THEM ALONE!” Sanchez barked. “STAND DOWN, SOLDIER! THAT’S AN ORDER! STAND DOWN!” Unfortunately, the Patriot continued ignoring his direct orders and continued attacking non-existing threats to national security. Several of the soldiers rushed the Patriot. Tackling him, they tried to force him to release his victims. Unfortunately, the Patriot possessed the same strength as the Liberator. Thus, it was like trying to pry open a vice with one’s bare hands. A few soldiers even tried to pound the Patriot in the back of his head with their fists. It was like trying to bash an anvil with one’s fists.

General Sanchez turned to Flagg, “Order that thing to stand down at once!”

“The soldier is only doing what he was programmed to do,” Flagg argued. “Defend the homeland from potential threats!”

“The only threat here is your soldier!” Sanchez shouted.

“We don’t know who these people are,” Flagg shouted, pointing to the various passengers his super soldier was attacking. “For all we know, they could be enemy spies or terrorists! Hell, they may have caused the plane to malfunction! Their goal may have been to crash it into our offices! Eliminate our country’s top military brass, leaving us defenceless and open for attack!” In Flagg’s twisted view of the world, this made perfect sense. And he made sure to imprint these irrational beliefs onto his new super soldier.

General Sanchez gave Flagg a cold hard glare, “We don’t go attacking innocent civilians because they might possibly be potential threats to the state!”

“You FOOL!” Flagg shouted. “If they’re innocent, my soldier wouldn’t be attacking them!” This was how Flagg’s insane logic worked. Anyone who didn’t look or think like him must be a threat to his country; thus, a pre-emptive strike was completely justifiable. The ends justified the means.

Seeing as this was going nowhere, General Sanchez was left with no option. He drew his gun and aimed it directly at the Patriot. While he was hesitant to start firing it in front of the panicking civilians, not to mention that it wouldn’t harm the Patriot in any way, he was desperate to do anything to try and stop it. “Out of the way!” he ordered the other officers, and they dove for cover as Sanchez began firing on the Patriot. At least he didn’t have to worry about hitting the Patriot’s victims because, tragically, they were already dead. The Patriot dropped the corpses at his feet. Taking a cue from the general, the other soldiers drew their guns and began firing on the Patriot as well. Like before, the bullets simply bounced off the Patriot. Some soldiers stood there frozen in fear, wondering if the Patriot would turn his ire on them next.

“Accidental friendly fire,” the Patriot simply said. “Do not engage.” He turned and continued going after other civilians he deemed potential threats, the civilians the other soldiers were desperately trying to get to safety. While the Patriot had been attacking innocent people and some of the soldiers were trying to stop it, most of the other civilians were whisked away to safety under the protection of other soldiers. Not all of them made it.

….To find out what happens keep your eyes out for Liberator: The People’s Guard Vol. 2 Genetic Arms Race. Coming soon to a bookstore and online retailer near you!