Pax Romana, City of Angels (working title)

First off:  This manuscript is currently terrible.  Needs serious revamping and all kinds of improvement.  This is the least polished page on the entire blog.  I intend for this to my best work yet, but between completing my Bachelor’s degree, looking for a part-time job, working on my music (I intend to make youtube videos of myself playing music + play in a cover band for additional income) and other things, I haven’t had much time for this.

Please read the FAQ first for why some words are in certain colors and other

important things.


Disclaimer: This book has absolutely no relevance, influence or political motivation

for the modern world. There is no reference to any real person, event, religion,

socioeconomic class or any other “adult” serious issue.  Just as Erich Maria Remarque

famously insisted All Quiet on the Western Front had absolutely no real-world

motivations or influence, the precise same is the case for this text.

History often repeats itself

but not through pop-culture references.


September 11, 2001

“The world just got a lot more dangerous.  Daniel, know that I love you.”

“Our world has always been dangerous.  If you really love me so much, you can finally tell me

who dad actually was.”

“You never had one.”

“Nonsense.  I don’t believe in that swan bullshit.  I realize I’ll never meet him, but you did.”

“You’re eight years old Daniel.  There are some things you shouldn’t know.”

“Remember what happened when I was 5?  Walking home from kindergarten and those mobsters beat

me up so much?  I’m glad that policeman ended up coming.  Mom, after what has already happened

to me, what else could I be scared of?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about your father.”

“You can’t tell me how he looked?”

“Honestly I can’t.  I only knew him for one night, and that night he knocked me unconscious.”

“One day I’ll find him.  That’s a promise mom.”

“Even the police don’t know who or where he is.”


Daniel O’Brian’s surname was from his mother though he hardly looked Irish, and had

none of their stereotypical traits other than his love of alcohol and physical confrontations.

His Italian olive skin, dark brown hair and brown eyes were inherited from his father,

as with other things he wouldn’t care to admit.

His mother’s addiction to alcohol made it hard for her to hold a job, and since they lived

in a Los Angeles ghetto where gunfire was fairly common, and the English language wasn’t

he quickly became resourceful.

He couldn’t learn things the ‘conventional’ way; a teacher’s lecture bored the hell out

of him, as with textbooks. In high school, he flunked out of French, but by the time

he was 18 he spoke fluent Spanish, Farsi, and Arabic. Farsi and Spanish are especially easy

; LA had a large Persian and Mexican population.  Arabic

was harder, but Daniel was motivated; he always wanted to be in the military.

The only reason he took French rather than one of the languages he already

spoke was because that would have been “cheating.”

Having already made a name for himself at 16 by winning mixed martial art

tournaments in the under 18 bracket, he did ‘favors,’ some legal, others not, for successful

businessmen with a grudge and anyone else that could afford him.

Most of his money went to weapons, booze, a recurring gym membership,

Linkin Park tickets, and LAPD speeding tickets.

October 4, 30 AD

Circus Maximus was by far the most impressive amphitheater in all of the Roman empire. 

“Fight well, and you may earn your freedom.  Fight poorly, and you will die, as you would deserve to.”

This stadium is huge.  I’ve never seen anything like this.  Of course, then again I am a slave, so I haven’t seen much of anything other than my masters home.

The massive stadium could hold roughly 150,000 souls, a number that Valerius could barely even comprehend.

Made of stone, it was over 600 meters in length and was both a work of beauty and terror.  Fortunes of gold were both won and lost on a regular basis as they would gamble on predicting the winner.  The lives of the men who fought were also won, by gaining freedom or put a permanent end.

“Now repeat after me.” The master told the gladiator slaves.  “I will endure to be burned, to be bound, to be beaten, and to be killed by the sword.”

By the Gods, I will make it out of this alive.  I can recite their words with my mouth but never with my heart.  Valerius thought as he repeated his master’s words.

As he was led from the cold, dark dressing room into the arena of Circus Maximus, the bright Roman sunlight hit his eyes.

He felt himself urinate in his clothes- a biological reaction to fear, though he did not understand it.

June 8th, 32 AD

The weather was quite hot this summer day, typical for the Italian Peninsula.  A hard day of

work in the fields had finally ended.  In less than 2 Gregorian calendar days Valerius would

be of acceptable military age, and he expected to be recruited.  While military life wasn’t

known for luxury, it would at least be an escape from harvesting crops where every day was

repetition with minuscule reward.


November 15, 32 AD

“From where you all have come, the progress and polish you’ve accomplished in 6 short

months are truly remarkable. With backgrounds that couldn’t be more diverse, your

only common factor was a lack of knowledge and direction. Now the reverse is true;

you are one, one which fights alike.  Sleep and wake alike.  March alike.  And most

importantly, think alike.

“You will be serving in the Judaea province, specifically in Judea.  The farthest

extent of our empire is typically the least in our reach, and you will be stationed

to minimize that.  Judea’s thirst for revolt must be quenched, as with their

barbaric cult which is causing us nothing but pain.


February 12, 2002

“If you want to win, you should have a lineup that isn’t exclusively made of

fighting types.  My Mewtwo beat your whole team.”

“Dude, I don’t even care about this game.  You bought me a Gameboy Advanced

for my birthday, and I know those things cost 100 bucks.  You probably ended up paying like 130 including the price of the game itself.  I only trained a team

so I could play with you since you’re my friend and I’d feel guilty otherwise.

And the show is even more cheesy and ridiculous than the game.  Only the Japanese

could create a yellow mouse which somehow kills a ripped monster which sacks like

Rocky Balboa.”

“Pokemon never die, they just faint.”

“What?  That’s even worse.”

“Well, just imagine if they died after you spent so many hours training them. How

much would that suck?”

“Almost as much as the time wasted where you could have just hit the gym yourself.

February 14, 2010.

“Did you make a girl’s dream come true today?”

“I made 3 different girl’s dream come true today.”

“That’s not nice.  You shouldn’t be playing girls like that, but you’re 18 now.  I can’t tell you what to do.”

“Yes, I am indeed 18 now.  I’d consider your forgiveness to be an adequate birthday present.”

“Daniel, that isn’t close to a proper birthday present.  But this is.”  She said, handing him a small


“Mom… what did I tell you about spending money on me for things I don’t need?”

“You need this.”

Inside the box contained a cross made of 24 karat gold.  It was obviously an ancient piece of jewelry.  It

didn’t even mention the manufacturer or date anywhere on it.

“What the hell were you thinking?  There’s no telling how much you spent on this.  I demand you return


“Daniel I didn’t spend a dime on that.

“You… stole it?”

“Yes.”  I stole it 18 years and 9 months ago.

“My biological father?”

“Yes.  He definitely got the better of me.  With that glaring exception.  You should have it.”

“I… don’t know what to say.  I don’t think I should have this, but there’s no way I can refuse if you feel the

burden of that cross belongs to me.”

“I insist you take it.”

“If that is the case, this means more to me than anything.”

“I wish a high school diploma meant something to you.  You’re 18 now, and you chose

to not show up for class doing God knows what.  I gave you my blessing and my most

prized possession.  You don’t have to live on your own, even though I could legally

disown you.  I never will.  But I know that you want to.  You’ve always wanted to.

Lots of people your age can’t handle the real world at 18, especially without even

a high school diploma.  But you will manage.  You’ve always found a way

to do everything.”

She latched the necklace onto him.

“You don’t have to find your father.  You probably never will.  But the one thing I ask is

you not lose this.”


February 27th, 2010

“And now ladies and gentleman, a match for the ages! Challenger Daniel O’ Brian against

defending champion King Baal!

Despite most of the contenders being almost twice his age, Daniel was the only one to find

stage names to be immature and cheesy.

Daniel was heavily favored to win the fight. His opponent was coming off an injury which

was widely speculated to have not fully healed, and Daniel had been shredding the


“Fight!” The referee yelled as the bell sounded.

King Baal, who’s legal name is Tiny Cox, threw one punch.

Daniel immediately fell the floor.

“One… two… three…”

Daniel looked his opponent in the eye with a smirk on his face. Clearly, him getting

knocked out so quickly like this had been prearranged.

“Eight… nine… ten… Knockout!” And with that, King Baal is our defending champion!

The audience was in awe. It couldn’t have been more obvious that Daniel intentionally

wanted to lose. Most people thought he took a bribe. They were definitely right. The prize

money for the tournament was a measly ten thousand dollars. The bribe was worth almost

five times that much. And the person that paid him to do this would get paid much more

than that.


“God Damn you, Daniel, I expected you to be more subtle about it!”

“If it looks like I truly lost, then my honor would have been damaged. I had to make it

obvious so everyone would know he wasn’t tougher than me.”

“Your honor is much more damaged now- You’re seen as a cheater. And since I was in on

this too, I’ll probably be locked up, and I’ll definitely have to cough up all the money I won

by betting on you to lose.”

Daniel was banned from competing in nearly all sporting events. Some banned him for

life, but most did a ban between two to four years. He would be 22 when he would be

eligible to box again.

Having been disgraced, he decided to join the military to regain his public image. He would

become a Navy SEAL.

Physically speaking, he could do anything the Navy Seal’s wanted. But there was one little

problem. The ASVAB, or Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, is an exam would be

Seals had to take. Daniel couldn’t score remotely high enough. He could only qualify for

the army. For once, he realized staying in school would have led to a better life.


“You know son, I don’t know what we should do with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re fluent in Farsi. A language that is so similar to Dari, the language of Afghanistan,

that you could potentially be a translator. Yet your ASVAB score was way too low to secure

that position. The truth is we need you. Tell ya what son. If you’re as serious about this as

you say you are, hire yourself a tutor and study for a few months.”

“But I don’t want to be a translator. I wanted to be a Navy SEAL.”

“Everyone in the world wants to be a Navy SEAL. Osama Bin Laden died and now everyone

thinks Navy SEALs are as sexy as James Bond. Son, let me tell you.” The sergeant said

while pulling out a cigar. “Navy SEALs go through hell. Not just the famous hell week

where they go five and a half days functioning on less than four hours of sleep, but

throughout their careers. As an enlisted SEAL, you’ll start off making only about twenty-two

thousand dollars a year. Be honest with me, son. Are you doing this for the money? Go

work on an oil rig.”

“I… sort of. What would be the advantage of being a translator then?”

“Less chance of death or trauma. Less stress in general. You could potentially work doing

translating as a civilian job when you get out.”

“Wow, that actually makes a lot of sense.”


The physical requirements of Boot Camp were a joke to him. The mental aspect was

another matter.

“You lazy rats were too slow running your miles today. Fifty pushups all of you!”

Daniel could easily do fifty pushups. However, he didn’t see the point of having the same

punishment when he wasn’t slow at all.

“I ran my mile on time. Most of us did. You, Lieutenant, didn’t run at all. How old are you,

anyway? 45? I’ll bet fifty bucks that you can’t do fifty pushups. You have a lot of nerve

always putting us down and calling us lazy when every time we drop down and do fifty

you don’t do any.”

Daniel was expecting a thunderous applause from his comrades, but they knew better.

That was the last time Daniel talked back to a superior. There’s just something about

spending the entire night running in the cold rain, taking grueling laps with a heavy

a backpack that makes you learn all about respect and kissing the ass of people you hate.

His hair, usually long and wavy was cut to a military buzz cut.  “They can take

my hair, but never my pride.” He thought.  He thought wrong, much worse was

to come.  His fellow comrades learned to hate him.  Not only because he was by

far the best at the physical activities, but because he kept breaking the rules

and as a result, had the entire unit punished.

They started learning simulated combat scenarios, where Daniel also excelled

at.  “The streets of LA already taught me everything I need to know.” He told himself.

By his fourth week, they were issued an M16A2, the standard weapon of the U.S. Army.

He had owned many firearms before and was one of the best shots in his class.

The fourth week was by far his favorite week.

In the fifth week, he was tested both with his skill with his rifle and with a fitness obstacle

course.  “I could have done this when I was 14” he knew.

At the last week, he had graduated from basic training.

Everyone was proud of what they had accomplished.  Daniel found everything about

boot camp comfortable other than the drill sergeant yelling in his face.

May 3rd, 2011

“Why do they force me to be naked?”

“Because this is their way of torturing you.”

“They think you’re with the Taliban.  I won’t tell them if you are.”

“What will they do to me if I am convicted?”

“They want far more than you admitting you are a terrorist.  They want to

know accurate information.  They think you know about a plot to ambush our unit.”

“If I tell them, will they free me?”


“Our group is hiding in a camp 200 kilometers to the south of Shibar.

We are planning to attack in two days time at midnight.”

“Thank you for this information.  What is your name, so I can thank you?”

“Abdul Gulloo.”

Abdul was sent to a prison camp in Guantanamo Bay where he would spend

the rest of his life.

May 3rd, 2011

“And you’re sure you don’t want to renew your contract with the army?”


Daniel received exemplary marks for his military service.  Master of

interrogation and had saved his unit countless times.

“I… can’t serve the American armed forces any longer.  What we are doing is evil,

and I would lose my mind to continue.  But I won’t lose my nerve!

I will find a job somewhere else, doing something else.”

July 23rd, 2011

It was a Friday night.  The only thing on Daniel’s mind was going home with an attractive

woman.  In one of the hottest clubs in LA, he ordered himself a drink of Guinness and

spotted a woman roughly his age… she was already talking to a man, who appeared old

enough to be her dad.  As such, Daniel thought he had a chance to overtake her attention.

“I need to vent.  Would you care to listen?”  Daniel knew the best pick-up lines were the

most genuine ones.  He could not come across as a sleazy womanizer if he only told the truth.

“Sure.”  the woman said, with the older man looking at him with a frown.

“I just finished a 4-year contract with the military.  I’m feeling really guilty about it.”

“Why?”  The older gentleman said, both out of curiosity and to block Daniel from talking to her.

“Don’t you think what we are doing is wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Our presence in Afghanistan.  Don’t you think it is wrong?” Daniel asked

“You can’t call yourself a Patriot if you question it.”

“Why are we here, then?”

“To defeat the Taliban abroad, so they won’t come home.”

“Look.  I do not deny the Taliban is wrong.  But does that mean that we are right?”

“We are securing freedom both for ourselves and for the people of Afghanistan.”

“How are we achieving freedom for ourselves?  Do you think we wouldn’t have

freedom at home if we weren’t occupying this country?”


“In what way?”

“Remember September 11th?”

“Yep.  None of the hijackers were from Afghanistan, and even if they were,

occupying their entire country is just a little bit ridiculous.

“So you’re a liberal.”

“I wouldn’t say that.  I have never voted and probably never will.  I certainly don’t vote

Democrat, if that is where you’re going with this.”

“You are sympathetic to the enemies of the United States.”

“So?  Why aren’t my opinions as valid as yours?  If not much more, since I’ve actually

personally met with these ‘enemies,’ as well as arrogant people like you who know

everything from an Ivory tower.”

“You are a disgrace to the armed forces.”

“Perhaps that’s why I quit as soon as I was given the opportunity rather than re-enlist.

But these Taliban, these Arabs, these Muslims that you claim to hate so much.  We loved

them at one point.  Reagan backed the Taliban in the 1980’s to help them fight their

Russian occupiers.  Do you know what we called them?  Freedom Fighters.  And to be honest,

if I were a Russian who lost my son, my spouse, my father to the Taliban.  To Osama

Bin Laden, who was actively supported by the United States, I would be laughing my ass off

when September 11th happened.  I would laugh my ass off every single time an RPG hits an

American tank in Afghanistan.  And there’s no way you could blame me.  The only

difference between a freedom fighter and a terrorist is a freedom fighter is an Arab who

blows shit up in your best interest, and a terrorist is an Arab who blows shit up in

somebody else’s best interest.”

Several different people heard Daniel’s unpatriotic speech.  Soon the older gentleman, as

well as several others, began attacking him.

Daniel overpowered his foes, nearly killing all of them.  The owner of the bar approached


“You unpatriotic son of a bitch.  I’m going to file a police report.  You’ve been caught on camera.  I’ll have you arrested and locked up for the rest of your life.”


Daniel immediately went to the airport.  Knowing that the longer he stayed in LA the more he was playing with fire- the possibility to get arrested.

“I need the quickest plane out of the United States.  Not including Canada, Mexico, Puerto Rico, or Guam.”

“That’s an odd request.  Any particular reason?”

Daniel saw this coming.  “I hate America and everything close to it.  I’ve had enough.  I’m leaving and never coming back.”  Daniel loved his answer.  He got to tell the truth without being arrested or denied service.

“Fair enough.  We’ve got a flight to London.  But hurry.  It leaves in 5 minutes.  There won’t be enough time for security to clear you.  You can go on without it.  We trust you.”

Daniel looked around him and saw two middle eastern men being humiliated and stripped searched.  “We didn’t do anything wrong!  Please get your hands off my testicles, how could I hide something there?” the man said.

Daniel made his way quickly on the plane.  It would be over 10 hours by the time the plane landed in London.  His luggage was packed though he had nothing in his carry-on bag other than his phone, headphones to listen to music, a book on Buddhist philosophy that he’d always intended to read, and a few good porno mags.

He was quite pleased that the person sitting next to him was an attractive woman.  She was fair skinned with brown hair, quite tall like a model, and simply beautiful.  Thanks to her, his carry on items would be pointless other than his phone in the possibility he could get her number.  10 hours is a long time to get to know a person.  There were slim odds that anything would come out of this, but no hurt in trying.  Especially when he was going to a country where he knew literally no one.  Even if there was no romance between them, she could potentially help him.  Or at the very least, tell him what to expect in England and the differences there compared to America.  Or the first things he should do when moving.

“So what do you do for a living?” he asked her.

“Hopefully I’ll become a professor.  Or at least a student teacher, or something.”

“Why hopefully?”

“Because it’s undecided until I get my first job, and I’m in an exceptionally competitive field. My Bachelor’s degree is in history and I specialized in antiquity, which means the time period of the Roman Empire.  My master’s degree and Ph.D. came from UCLA, in your country.  My masters and Ph.D. double in both Archeology as well as Anthropology.  I’m well versed in tracing someone’s genetic background to find whatever they’d like.  I also know about forensics.

“Forensics.  So like, you would know what the cops are thinking – and therefore get away with murder because you’re one step ahead of the game?”

She started laughing, not realizing he meant that as serious.  “Yes… I suppose.  I never really thought of it that way.”

“So you just graduated and are going back to your home country to find work I take it?”

“Yes.  What about you, what brings you to England?”

“I murdered some people and had to get out of the country as soon as possible or else I’d get arrested.”

“You have a twisted since of humor.  You Americans are quite different.  But I like it.  So what do you plan on doing once you arrive?”

“Honestly I’m not sure.  Probably check into a cheap motel and get wasted.  If strippers are available they’d be welcome to join me.”

“You don’t want to see the country but do something you could do here in America or anywhere?”

“I’m moving here permanently.  I thought we discussed that.  What I need from you is a crash course in your country.  What it’s like to live there, the different types of places, how the economy is or what type of job I could realistically get.  What recreational drugs are legal.  If the cops are serious about cutting down on speeding or if it’s just a general guideline.  If your country doesn’t racially profile against brown and black people.  These are all the things that matter to me.”


“You definitely can’t speed.  It’s generally more expensive in England.  You may have to do with an apartment unless you’re well off.  Your taxes will be higher.  Drugs are still illegal.  I’d recommend going to the Netherlands if that’s important to you.  From the way you talk, if you’re serious, that’d make a better destination.”

“Do I have to speak Dutch?”

“Well, you don’t have to.  But it would make things easier.”

“Sort of like how I can still do drugs in England but I have to try a little harder to not get caught.  Trade off to not learn Dutch.  I don’t want to learn a fourth language so I’ll stick with England.”

“You speak three languages?”

“Yep.  English, Farsi, and Spanish.”

“What led you to pick those three?”

“LA has a large Persian and Hispanic population.  I naturally picked it up.  Have lots of friends in those communities.”

“Well that’s good that you seized those opportunities.  I’d imagine with that alone you could find work.”

“Well I’m ex military.  I’m looking to do some private contracting.  My other languages could come in handy, supposing they station me somewhere where it’s spoken.”

“So by private contracting you mean like Mercenary?  Military except for private companies?”

“Yes.  That or be a bodyguard.  I’ve done all kinds of stuff like that.”

“I believe you.  You look like the type of man that I wouldn’t mess with.  English men can be a bit shy and effeminate.  You’ll definitely stand out in a good way.”

“Thanks.”  Daniel said.  It would be a long flight and he was already sleep deprived.  “Thanks for our conversation.  I need to sleep.”

Arriving in London Daniel got off the plane and went to the terminal to pick up his luggage.  He checked the luggage to make sure the contents remained.  “Yes!” he said as he opened his first luggage.  It was filled with cocaine, pot, LSD, speed, mushrooms, heroin, ecstasy and ice.

Then he checked his second luggage.  Inside were an assortment of machine guns, ammunition, knives, and grenades.  Finally his last luggage was filled with more porn magazines, and anthrax in case he had to kill someone.  Smiling, he walked off into London, with a valet putting his suitcases in a taxi.
After having been hired, he set out for his new line of work.


April 16, 32 AD.

“And here we have a rebel.  A troublemaker.  Ladies and gentleman,

to be crucified before you is Jesus, son of Joseph and Mary!”  Some

of the crowd cheered, others were crying.

“Don’t do it.  You’re better than this Valerius.”

Who said that?  Why are there voices in my head? Valerius wondered.

Valerius whipped the man until he was in proper place.  He nailed

Jesus on the cross, and met absolutely no resistance.

“You are called king of the Jews, yet you put up the fight of a baby.”

He scoffed.  Jesus didn’t reply.

Valerius nailed Jesus to the cross.  Red blood began gushing down his

arms and to the green grass below them.

“You coward.  You have caused nothing but problems.” Valerius

said to him

“Father… forgive them.  For they do not know what they do.”

Jesus replied.

Forgive us?  Everyone whom I’ve crucified has cursed at me, spit at me. 

Yet he wants me to be forgiven?  I’ve never known a man like this in my life.

“This man has done nothing wrong.”  One of the two men crucified

besides Jesus said.

“Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Jesus responded.

“Even you, killer, have a chance to join me in paradise.”

Where are these voices inside my head coming from?  They sound exactly like

Jesus’s voice. 

I won’t lose my nerve.  I set out to do this and I will.

Mary, Jesus’s mother, cried out for her son.  “How

Could you do this to my son?  He has done nothing to be

in such pain!”

“Woman, this is your son,” Jesus said to his mother.

“This is your mother.” He said to one of his disciples.

Valerius put a crown of thorns on Jesus’ head.

“I’m just following orders.  I… don’t want to do this.”

There’s just something about this man.  Something in his presence

that makes me feel completely different than I’ve ever felt before.

“The only orders to be followed are from the kingdom of God.

And even you, my killer Valerius Maximus, has an opportunity

to join it.  I hope to see you in heaven.”

I’ve been so cruel to this man, and he hopes I will see him in heaven? 

If someone treated me one tenth as bad as treated him, I would invite them to hell

, not heaven.  He is unlike anyone else in the world.

By now more and more blood was rushing down Jesus’s body.

He would die soon.

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”  Jesus said.

I thought there were many God’s, not one.  Could all of my God’s be false? 

Even if there is one God, why would God let this happen to this man?”

((for those that haven’t read the FAQ, everything in purple means it’s out of order with the rest of the book.  If you don’t want to be spoiled, do not continue!))

December 31, 32 AD

“Snow and sand is such a curious mix. In that, they tend to be virtually identical by way of petty

annoyance for walking up a damn hill behind a trail of blood. It seems a little bit sad

really how pathetic thieves, murders, or Jews that crossed a real Roman can be when forced to carry the instrument of their demise. Killing a man is really not that difficult as the human body can only

withstand so much force undergo so much trauma before it shuts down.  However, it seems

almost too easy when they are presented in shackles and alone, hopeless, without a chance to ever

try to harm rather than in my past experience with what seems like legions rushing out with of

trees like wild beasts intent on the destruction of you, people you love, people you hate, pretty

much every bastard you’ve ever met.  Somehow it seems demeaning to only be handed your victim

. It’s much like a caged lion being fed steak from a cow. It’s nearly pointless, to be frank.

Today I hadn’t even whipped a man before he started crying and professing to crimes i doubt that

he committed out of sheer fear of my whip. He trudged through the sand and snow,

complaining about what I deem a slight scratch in his back and legs.  I will never understand the

cowardice of these people. I once saw a man who was barely old enough to be a man in

Germanic countryside take three arrows to the chest and still had the fight to continue without fear. It appears to me that all of Judea is a bunch of victims crying out to the government they

hate but do nothing about. Their numbers could easily start a revolt that would at least get

Caesar’s attention but they shrink away at the sight of armor and weapons. However, the is a

sect that I have noticed for a time that has formed a more cult-like following that proclaims a

load of filth about prophecies and a bunch of age-old nonsense. They are harder to break and

I find myself curious about the reasoning behind it. They are far from revolution, however, almost zen

in the way they carry themselves. But for all their talk of holiness and even the son of their

God, they still wind up on the wrong side of my devices and though they maintain their stance

of a fearless rock after a few lashes they break and in the winter their blood mixes in the sand

and snow on a long walk to the Place of the Skull.”


I was instructed to guard Jesus’s body.  And yet… his body disappeared before my

eyes.  They will think I’m a traitor.  And they would be correct, by this point. 

I cannot serve another day.  Both because they will falsely accuse me of intentionally giving up the corpse of Jesus, and because I feel morally obligated to leave

their ranks.  But with the power of Christ by my side, I shall push through. 

I don’t fear even death, I only fear to do evil.

Valerius held onto his shield- a red circular one made of wood, with the

words S.P.Q.R, and an Aquila, which was a symbol of Roman power.

The worst part of escape was the initial part- that is where he was mistakenly to get caught, as he was still within Rome’s grasp.  The further got the less chance he had of getting recaptured, but there were still challenges.  One of which was he did not speak the

common tongue of the middle easterners, which he was raised to believe were


He survived by hunting wild animals for food and cooking them over a

fire.  He would have to steal water from wells.  Something he hated to do,

but he did it out of survival rather than greed. 

As he traveled further and further east, he finally reached Parthia, a growing

empire built out of the ashes of Persia. 

As he was hunting game one day he encountered strangers – an entire legion

of Parthian troops.

Jesus… I suppose this is the end.  I will meet you in your kingdom of heaven.”

Valerius was instantly captured and interrogated.

“Hello?  Need… water.” He said, exhausted.

Aman replied to him, but in a tongue, he didn’t speak.  After some time, the two of them realized they

apparently didn’t speak the same language.  The man waved his hands,

instructing Valerius to follow.

They were brought before a military-style camp, and soon Valerius realized he was

probably going to be held captive.

“So you are Roman.  This much cannot be denied.” A man told him.

“Unfortunately yes.  But who are you?”

“I am a translator whose job it is to interrogate you.  You will not be asking

questions from now on, only answering them.”

“So you can ask questions but I can’t?  Why the double standard?”

“Because your life is in the hands of our mercy, and not the other way around.  Now.

  Clearly, you are a Roman, and we are sure you are a spy.  The only question

at this point is what your mission was.”

“I’m no spy.  I’m a deserter from the Roman army.  They are wicked through and through

Forget about executing me.  I will fight for Parthia, especially

if it means an opportunity to strike Rome.”

“A spy always has a story.  This is yours.”

“If I am a spy, wouldn’t I at least be fluent in your language?  How could

I hope to succeed as a spy if I cannot communicate with anyone?”

“Perhaps you can speak our language, but pretend not to.”

“I’ve done lots of horrible things in my life in the name of Rome, but spying was never one of

them.  If there’s anything I could do to prove to you I’m not a spy, I will do it.”

“What is your reason for why you say you felt the need to betray Rome?”

“Many things.  The final straw was when they killed the man who was sent to this

earth to change the world.  This may sound crazy to you, but I know

what I felt.”

“The man who was sent to this earth to change the world? 

Elaborate on what you mean.”

“A man sent down from God, to give people a chance for forgiveness for their wrongdoings

.  A man who does not stand for any one empire, or creed, or

color but for all.  He has promised to come back a second time, though I

don’t know when.  In fact, this man is the son of God himself.”

“Son of God as in one God?  We Parthians know that only one God exists,

but you Romans believe in many false Gods.”

“Yes, I was taught to believe there are many Gods.  But after my experience

with this man, I know there to be only one true God.”

“Yes, Ahura Mazda is the one true God.  Is that who he claimed to be God?”

“He said God is just a word, and the tongue the word is spoken in is irrelevant

.  The essence of whether you have faith in him is more important

than the word you use.”

“This man you speak of.  Did he have a name?”

“Yes.  Jesus of Nazareth.”

Jesus of Nazareth?

“Yes.  Is he familiar to you?”

“He is the chosen one our own prophets have spoken of.   Some of our wisest

magi were present at his birth in Bethlehem, and showered him with gifts.”

Valerius felt relieved that they seemed to finally believe him.  “His people want to

be free of Roman rule, yet he refused to fight it.  Yet even then, that

didn’t spare him of Rome’s brutality.”

“What do you mean by this?”

“That means he was crucified to death.  By Rome.  To be more specific, by me. 

It’s the most wicked thing I’ve ever done, and something I’ll never forgive myself for

.  And yet… Jesus himself begged for my forgiveness as I did the act.”

You killed him?  If you knew him to be the chosen one to cleanse the earth

of evil, why would you kill him?”

“I didn’t completely understand who he was and what I was doing until after he died.  He spoke to me in my mind after his death.  There was also one particular event

that helped me realize his significance.

“What was that?”

“Three days after I killed him… his body was gone.  I was instructed to guard

his corpse and I knew for a fact nothing happened to it.  But on the third

day, it literally disappeared before my eyes.  Then he spoke to me in my

mind once again, telling me he’d been reunited with God, his Father,

in heaven.”


October 31, 2014

The house of the main event was extravagant with no expenses spared, featuring two

stories with 4 bedrooms filled with luxury furniture, the finest champagne, and even a few celebrities.

 There were about fifty or so people in the house, and 15 in the foyer, where Daniel was.

He felt sweat drop down his neck, feeling uneasy with himself for the first time since getting off the

boat.  Gunshots. He could swear he heard gunshots. From where? Suddenly his mind went blank.

He almost fell out of his chair but somehow held on as his mind span in a million directions.

“Make it stop.” He accidentally whispered out loud. More shots.  His first memory of them was when he

was only four, and he continued hearing them throughout his life. Then blood.

Whose blood, his own or someone else?

Then a boom. All of a sudden his breathing was erratic.

“He’s on drugs, fucking idiot. Why’d you invite him?”

“I thought he would have interesting stories to tell. But he’s probably too high to say them.”

Daniel finally was able to regain himself. “I’m not on drugs. I just… remember the past.”

“That’s a new one. So what are you on? Or are you just mad?”

“I’m not crazy.”

“What’s your issue, then?”

“I can’t explain it right now. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“Do you want us to take you to a doctor?”

“No, I should be okay.  But I did promise you I’d entertain your guests with my stories.

I don’t like interruptions, though, just let me say my piece.”

Daniel then went on a thoroughly detailed account of his life from when he was a small child to his

latest contract with Cadterk.

“Excuse me sir, but are you telling us the truth? We wouldn’t judge you if you actually inherited

from your parents” a man with a thick Persian accent asked him.

“I’ve inherited nothing but determination from my mother, and I’ve never met my father.”

“In that case, I’d like to speak with you privately.”


“Wait… is that a Faravahar around your neck?”

“Yes. I’m not Persian though, but I grew up with a lot of them, LA has tons of them as you

probably know.”

“Do you speak Farsi?”

“Yes. I don’t have much understanding of the written language, but I can speak it pretty well.”

“That’s even better.  Then when I give you a substantial offer our conversation will be all

the more private.” the man told him in Farsi.

“Why should I follow you?”

“I want to help you out.”

“Ok.  Now you’ve got my attention.  I’m not sure why you’d want to help a total stranger, and I’m usually skeptical of people like that.  But I’ll listen to you.  Just know that even though I’m young, I cannot be fooled easily.”

“I want to give you a new job.  But if you want it no more questions, just follow me.”

The man went to the second floor of the house, and went inside the isolated bedroom.  

They continued the rest of their conversation in Farsi and whispered as an extra caution.

“Do you want to make the world a better place?’

“I thought you had a job for me. Now it’s this make the world a better place bullshit.”

“Well, that’s what I meant, it’s a job. Only you’d be making the world a better place.”

“None of my previous jobs have done that, so this would be a first. But what’s the job?

And more importantly, what would you pay me?”

“Well, my daughter, my beautiful, precious daughter was taken advantage of. 

She was raped.  I would pay you enough to where you may not have to work another day in

your life, depending on how much you already have saved up.”

“Let me guess, you want me to kill the man who raped her. Why not just try him in court?”

“We did, he was found innocent. That’s how it usually goes it sexual assault cases. But if you

did this you would not only be far richer but you’d have my eternal gratitude.”

“You’re asking me to commit a felony. A huge, major crime.  Considering money is involved

this wouldn’t just be a murder, this is a hit-job.  England doesn’t have a death penalty, but I’d definitely

be in prison for the rest of my life. But considering I’m not a UK citizen, they could transfer me back

to the States, where I would be tried and executed there.”

“I didn’t know you were a coward.”

“There are a million adequate criticisms of me, but coward isn’t one of them. Let’s not

forget the fact that there’s a reason you’re apparently willing to pay me a hell of a lot to

do this rather than just do it yourself.  And just how much do you plan to pay me anyway?”

“10,000 dollars.”

“For something that could potentially have me in jail for the rest of my life?

You want to arrange revenge while keeping your own ass safe from the sidelines.

Even if I do get caught probably nothing will happen to you. I can’t imagine what sort

of plan-B alibi you already have even if this goes wrong.”

“You’re a smart kid, but quite the rude one for someone trying to help you out.”

“You aren’t trying to help me out.”

“I’ll add another 10,000 to the total. That proves now I’m trying to help you.”

“No.  Trying to help me would be giving me money for free.  What you’re doing is trying to pay the bare minimum possible for something with very dangerous implications.  How about 50,000?”

“40,000 tops, and that’s my final offer.” 

“Done I suppose.  But I need to know one more thing.  Is this guy famous or something?”

40,000 dollars for just one hit job is a pretty  good deal.  The vast majority of hit jobs max out at 30,000.  Perhaps my target is high profile and thus well protected.  I’ve killed for money before plenty of times, not even including doing it in the military where for some reason, nobody looks at it that way.

“No my son.  He doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page.”

“First, don’t ever call me your ‘son’.  Second, I’m in.  I hope I don’t regret this.”


“I’ve come to talk you about the job. There are a lot of things you didn’t tell me about.”

Daniel said in Farsi as they continued the rest of the conversation.

“Come on in Daniel, sit down and have a cup of tea, let me make you some kebab.”

“No. I’ve had kebab almost nonstop for the past two weeks.  I’m not hungry anyway.

  Look.  I want this to be brief.  While it’s apparently true that he’s a nobody in terms of fame,

he’s still got money from someone or something.  You didn’t tell me his house would have an

extremely sophisticated state-of-the-art security system, and that even his vehicle would be

loaded with cameras.”

“Apparently the bastard is paranoid.”

“Should he be? Apparently, someone is willing to pay more money to kill him than the average American makes in a year.”

“Yes, but I doubt my daughter was his only victim.  He’s probably lost track by this point.”

“All the more reason for him to be paranoid. I’ve also come for more information on the man, if you

have any. I’ve been stalking him as much as I can manage without raising suspicion, and not once

have I saw him in an isolated area.”

“If you’re telling the truth, what kind of things does he do throughout the day?”

Well firstly he spends almost all his time in his house, which leads me to believe

either he’s inherited his money or he makes it at home, perhaps as some

sort of stock trader. Although the former is probably more likely than the latter.

I would happily shoot him through the window except he doesn’t have any of those,

at least any that aren’t made up of bulletproof glass, fortified by god-knows-what-else.

This is going to be extremely tough to pull off, and you’re lucky that I’m

actually desperate for money. I’ve never seen someone this well protected. He doesn’t

even go shopping for food, he has that delivered to his house. The only time he is even

remotely vulnerable is when he goes on dates.”


“Yes. “I’ve hired a detective.”

“You did what?”

“The money I’m paying the detective is chump change compared to what you’d be

paying me. Anyway on these dates he is quite aggressive.”

“In what manner?”

“He gives them incredibly expensive gifts, perhaps averaging in as much as the 1,000 price range.

Usually after that he takes them to his home.”

“Has he ever not done so?”

“Actually yes, whenever the woman refuses he becomes furious.”

“He sounds like a sociopath.”

“We already knew that, although that’s irrelevant. I can’t say I like the man. But even if I did,

for this kind of money I’d get him.”

“What does he do when he becomes furious?”

“Well they’re in public at the restaurant so there often isn’t much he can do, but

presumably, he’d be much worse.”

“Have you ever caught him in a situation where they’re not in public and not in his

house or car?”

“No. And’s why I haven’t been able to do this.”

“Perhaps I should give you a deadline to stop being so slow.”

“Are you completely crazy? If anything you should be raising my price considering

we now know how incredibly difficult this will be, which you obviously knew about before hiring me.

“My daughter is dying of terminal cancer. I want this done while she can live to see it.”

“You realize I can just forget about this entirely don’t you?  You can either be patient with me or find someone else.  Anyone who just rushes in with no genuine opportunity will not succeed in killing him

and worse, get a life behind bars.  You hired me because you realized I know what I’m

doing when it comes to these things, so why can’t you just trust my judgment?”

“Oh and one more thing.  I’ve done dozens of hit jobs before, none of them were remotely this hard.  He has been a huge pain in the ass, and a drain on my time and energy.  This is time I could have been using to enjoy myself, find work, or whatever else.  You’ll have to add another 15,000.”

“Are you serious?  After I’ve given you so much time and you accomplished nothing?”

“You don’t have to pay it now.  You have to pay it after I finish killing him.  And trust me, if I can manage to kill this son of a bitch, I can definitely kill you.  You’re not anywhere near as well protected as he is.  It would be wise of you to pay up when I finish the job.”

“Fair enough.  Your prize is 55,000 if you kill him.”



It was a dark Friday night.  Partly because it was winter time, and partly because England had less sunlight in general than LA and the middle east, what he was more accustomed to.  It was also colder.  Much colder.  But nothing remotely anything he couldn’t handle.  In fact, this would be one of his easier jobs.  Killing his victim would be the easier part.  The only trick would be not getting caught.

Daniel went to the entrance of the house.  It was a large mansion, with cobblestone steps leading up to it, in all its elegant extravagance.  God, I feel so ridiculous dressed up like this he thought to himself.  He hated wearing fancy clothes, his black suit, and tie.  He had no choice but to wear it so he could blend in, in an atmosphere he despised.  
“Hi, I’d like to get in as I’m an invited guest to this party.” he said to the man at the front door.
“We’ve never heard of you.  Do you at least have an invitation?”
Damn it.  I was afraid of this.
“Ah, I forgot it.  I’ll go back home and get it,”  he said.
Daniel walked away, out of sight.  
I’ve got to get in.  I’ve already gone too far to forget this job.  I need the money and I don’t want to piss off my customer.  Plus, this is one of the more honorable hit jobs you could find.  What to do… I guess I’ll have to climb through a window in a vacant room.
Daniel crept up through the darkness to a secluded area and climbed up to a vacant room…  Perfect, that’s him!  And look and what he’s doing to that girl… that’s definitely him.  He won’t even see this coming.  Not that I feel sorry for him of course.

“What’s your name sir?”

“Do I have to leave it? I don’t even know her.”

“If you don’t even know her, how did you end up taking her to here?  It’s not every day someone

just drops off a stranger to the hospital.”

“Daniel O’Brian, but my name is thoroughly irrelevant.  All I did was find her injured in a dark

alley, and I decided to be a good Samaritan and help out.  I’m sure she has family and plenty

of friends. But even if that’s not the case, I want no more part in this.  In particular, do not

charge for for whatever bill she may have.  She seems like a nice enough person.  But

again, I don’t know her.”



“Hi, is this Daniel O’Brian?”

“Yes.  Who is this?”

“This is King’s county hospital.  Would it be alright if Rose speaks with you?”

“Oh god damn it.  I thought I made it very clear that I don’t even know her, and I just by

chance found her and brought her in.  More importantly, how the hell do you have my number?”

“She insisted on finding you, because she wanted to thank you.  You’re the 24th Daniel O’Brian

we’ve tried so far.  There are a lot of them listed in the yellow pages, and almost every single one

was pissed that we had the wrong number.  I am frankly very relieved to have you on the line, sir.”

“Whatever, fine.  I’ll talk to her.”

“Hi, I just wanted to call to thank you.”

“Yeah, that was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. You risked your life just to save me and got absolutely nothing

in return. I have to make this up somehow. At the very least you punished him for what

he already did, at the most you potentially saved my life, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“You really don’t owe me anything, but what do you have in mind?”

“I could at least take you out to dinner.”

“When are they discharging you from the hospital?”

“Well it’s been a little over one month already, and they say they only want to

keep me another week just to make sure.”

“Where would you like me to take you?”

“I don’t care, I never go to restaurants.”

“Your condo was in a pretty good area, and your car must have cost at least 30,000

pounds. I don’t believe you never go to restaurants.”

“There are several reasons why I never go to restaurants. One of them is because I live

in a good area and my car costs at least 30,000 pounds.”

“Is there at least somewhere you’d like me to take you?”

“I’ve been craving Italian lately, so that I guess.”

“I think I can manage that. Saturday evening, La Pasana at 6?”


“Why did you insist we sit by the corner wall?” Rose asked with a perplexed look on her face.

“I like to be aware of my surroundings.”  Daniel honestly replied.

“What do you mean?”

“If something is going to happen, I want to be the first to know.”

“You really think something would happen here?”

“Something can happen anywhere.”

Rose looked at him funnily.

“So I can’t help but notice your accent.  Are you an American?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“My country is responsible for lots of atrocities, some of which I should

personally be held accountable for.”

“Is that your way of saying you have military service?”


“How old did you say you were?”

“22, you?”


“Does it bother you I’m six years younger?”

“No. But the fact that you’d go to a five star restaurant dressed in the attire of a 16 year old boy

is disappointing.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I dress how I like to.”

“You’re wearing a rock band shirt. What does that say… Linkin Park? It’s hard to read it because

the print is faded.”

“I’ve held onto this shirt since I was 18 and used to wear it almost every day.”

“Well, despite not even knowing you I somehow realize that’s the truth.”

Daniel didn’t take her disapproval well, and there was an awkward pause.

Finally she began to speak again.

“So what do you actually do for a living?”

“Right now I’m working for Cadterk. They transport goods from London and

 it’s my job to stay mounted on alert in case there’s a problem.”

“What kind of problems are there usually?”

“Pirate raids.  So, what do you do for a living?”

I bet she’s just an escort.  With that kind of body she’d be losing potential money not to be one.

On the other hand she seems incredibly intelligent as well.  There’s no telling what she’d be capable of.

“I’m a professor at Cambridge. I’m finishing up my dissertation and my job can be

stressful and time consuming. But it’s quite rewarding as well.”

Cambridge… isn’t that one of the top Universities in the world?  I don’t keep up with schools

and even I’ve heard of them. Combine her six-figure salary with whatever gifts she

must be getting on a regular basis and she has at least as much as I do.

“What do you teach there?”

“History, and I specialize in antiquity.”

“I’m not exactly well-read so I have to ask, what does antiquity mean?”

“The classical period.”

“That doesn’t help me either.”

“From the ancient Greeks to the early middle ages. I can probably tell you more than

you’d want to know.”

“You could probably educate me in general, I’ve been falling behind in school since I

was like… 6 years old.”

“Did you graduate from high school?”

“Nope, flunked out.”

“So,” Rose said, seeing that conversation wasn’t going in any good direction.

“That man you… fought the night we met.” She said, looking around to

ensure no one overheard them. “Did you personally know him?”

“No.  And other than the answer I just gave you, we’re not going to talk about that.

This isn’t the time, nor place.”

There was a long silence.

 “What kind of things are you interested in?”

“Going to rock and rap concerts. Getting stoned and wasted. Going to the gym.”

“I think I know people like you. Not personally, but I know people like you.”

“I don’t know personally anyone like you either. You’re the first I’ve had a full conversation with.”

Soon, they were interrupted.  Two men approached them.  One was a black skinned man, almost certainly of African ancestry.  He was dressed in the type of attire Daniel would call ‘preppy.’  A polo vest and tan khaki pants, with a shirt and a tie underneath the vest.  The other man appeared to be quite a bit younger.  Perhaps around 19.  He wore a star of David necklace.  Maybe he was Jewish.  He wore a shirt that said ‘Condoms are easier to change than diapers.’  Perhaps he was even more immature than Daniel.

“Excuse me.” the black man said.  “This is very rude for me to interrupt, but you said that you are an anthropologist?”

“Yes sir.  Why do you ask?”

“I am a university professor myself writing a thesis on ancient Rome.  I was wondering if you would consider collaborating with me.  It’s hard to find a well-qualified anthropologist to work with.”

“Maybe.  What is your name?  I’ll look you online and decide for myself.”

“Pete Daltrey.”

Daniel interrupted their banter.  “Hey Pete.  I can’t explain this in words but…

I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“You have.”


“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.  You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

What?” Daniel felt himself getting frustrated.  “Also, you sound American.  Just like me.  Am I right?”

“Yes.  I am from the states.” Pete replied.

“No shit?  Well, you sound very articulate, well spoken, and easy to understand.  But at the same time, really generic.  What part are you from?”

“That’s Seattle for you,”  Pete replied with a toothy grin.

“Well Pete, you appear to be quite a bit older than me.  Do you remember Nirvana when they were huge?”

“Yes.  I’m 30.  Never really cared for the grunge scene, I ignored them.”

“What?” Daniel exclaimed.  “Listen, man, I’ve never even been to Seattle, and I might be a better Seattlite than you.  If you are as old as you are and are from Seattle,  you need to be listening to Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, and whatever others.  You need to be rocking out like it’s 1992.”

Rose barely even knew Daniel, but couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for him.  He was making an ass out of himself.   “Daniel you really shouldn’t be telling this man what he has to like or dislike just because of where he’s from.”

Daniel rolled his eyes.  Soon, a waitress approached Pete.

“Sir, we forgot to order your drink.  What can I get you? 

“Coffee.  Triple shot, not decaf.  Chai caramel latte.  Two pumps of sugar.  Five pumps if you don’t have real sugar.  I demand the aroma of the coffee to smell wonderful and expect nothing less.  This country has not treated me well at all.  The only thing I like about it is the rain.  Makes me feel right at home.”

Daniel burst into laughter.  Pete and the other man walked away. 

Rose wasn’t aware of any Seattle stereotypes, so she didn’t react the way Daniel did.  She was able to quickly focus back to their previous conversation.

“So, has defending ships from pirate raids always been your job,

or did you have previous ones?”

“I’ve done lots of other things. I was a bodyguard for some Christian missionaries

, I defended oil rigs, I worked for different various companies and

individuals in the Middle East. I also made my start by serving in the military.”

“Any close encounter’s you like to talk about?”

Yes, I’ve had close encounters.  But that’s something else I’m not going to talk about.  And most people

who do like to talk about close encounters are bullshitters, people that actually experience this stuff

don’t like thinking about it, much less talking.”

“It might actually help you to talk about it.”

“No, it wouldn’t.  Do you think you’ll ever go around bragging about what happened to you the

night we met?”

There was a long pause.

“That… was hurtful, but I see your point.  Although some people do benefit from venting

about traumatic experiences, but I can respect that you aren’t one of them.  And I must say you

do seem quite a bit different than most of the people I’ve surrounded myself with.

But I’d love to see you again, I think we could have a lot to learn from each other.”

Yeah, I doubt it. More like she just likes me. She’s easy on the eyes for sure, and is completely 

different and a nice change of pace from any woman I’ve been with before.  And considering

I’m probably in twice as good shape as the men she usually dates, and less than half their age,

she may see me the same way.  Whether we would get along long-term is the real question.

“I agree and I’d love to meet you again some time. Where would you like?”

“Our next meeting should be a surprise.  I’ll take you somewhere I bet you haven’t been before.”

“That may actually be for the best, the kinds of places I go you probably wouldn’t tolerate.”

Would next Saturday at 6 work?”


Alright, next Saturday meet me at my apartment and I’ll take us.”

“Hello there Daniel.  Perhaps I could step inside first before we go out? 

So we can talk about private matters that you don’t wish to discuss in public?”


Stepping in, she looked around.  Her thoughts that he had the mentality of

a teenage boy were only reinforced.  The flat was quite messy.  Posters

of scantily dressed women holding machine guns, completely naked

women holding machine guns, and completely naked women without

anything at all, as well as machine guns with no woman attached to it,

were all over the place.  And of course, rock band posters such as Linkin Park

and Nine Inch Nails.

“So…” she said, trying not to comment on his atrocity of a flat

“Now you could tell me about my assaulter the night we met?”

“Well he was a straight up sociopath, but I’m guessing you already

realized that.  I can tell you he’s only been to jail once, and that was

for cheating on his tax returns.  Of course he was guilty of 100 other

crimes that are 100 times worse, but that’s what they caught him for.

I’ll try not to get into too many gruesome details, but let’s just say

you could have been dead, and indeed your entire body mutilated. 

With limbs chopped off and everything.”

“Why do you say ‘I’ll try not to get into too man gruesome details’, 

and then do exactly that?”

“You’re right.  Sorry.”

“No it’s ok, I wanted to know anyway.  And I can tell that you’re telling

me the truth.”


“I just can.”

“So would you believe me if I told you that I killed him because he

was evil and no reason other than that?”

“At this point I don’t see why it matters.”

Daniel sighed in relief.


“So given your last name.  I’m guessing you’re of Irish ancestry?”

“Yes.  I don’t really think about it though.  I was born in America and will die either there or here, so how Irish am I?”

“Good.  I was afraid you were one of those Irish Americans who supports the IRA.”

“What’s the IRA?  If they’re anything like the IRS I definitely don’t support them.”

“It stands for Irish national army.”

“Sure, why not?  Ireland can have an army just as much as anyone else.”

“They’re terroists.”

“Look, I don’t even give a shit.  You’re the one who brought it up.”

“I’ve never tough men like you cry.  I’m guessing men like you never do it?  How can you resist breaking down in tears when things get hard?  And for you, surely it does?”

“Look.  Saying tough men don’t cry is about as true as pretty girls don’t poop.  We do it, just not in public.”


Daniel looked at Rose with both lust and bewilderment phasing through his eyes.  She looked incredibly sexy with her attire.  He didn’t know what to call it, but it was a maxi dress with solid black colors, contrasting against her milky white skin.  The deep v neckline showed a subtle amount of her breasts just enough to give him a taste, but no more.  It was slit up to her thigh, revealing her elegant legs.

He could not for the life of him figure out why she continued to spend time with him long after her thanks, yet at the same time not show some affection towards him.  Was she waiting for him to make a move?  Normally he would have no hesitation.  There was something different about her though. “So we are officially dating now.  Officially together.  Right?”

She looked at him.  She found him incredibly sexy and devilishly handsome.  Yet at the same time, just a little bit hard to take seriously.  With his worn out black Linkin Park shirt on, and his baggy cargo pants with silver chains going down the sides. This was the attire of a teenage boy, not the type of sophisticated gentleman she was used to. “You could say that.  You are a lot different than me, but I’d be lying to say I’m not attracted to you.  And I also easily have enough money to get by.  And even though you’re six years younger than me, there’s just something about you.  Like… you seem like you’d be able to take care of me.”

“So basically, that’s a yes.”

“Yes.” She sighed, biting her lip.  Part of her felt like she was going to regret this.  But she knew she would regret it even more if she never even gave him a chance.  With a man like Daniel, he would either be the worst she ever had, or the best.  There could be no in-between.  She secretly lusted for him just as much as he did for her.  She just couldn’t be open about it.  For her to openly lust him, he would have to earn it.

“Every one of my previous girlfriends have given me a lap dance.  How about it?”  Daniel smirked.  He was used to dating attractive women, but she blew all of them out of the park.  She was, quite honestly, the most attractive woman he’d ever gotten to personally know.  Just the thought that sex would happen eventually with her was already making him aroused and hard, even if it wouldn’t happen tonight.

Rose rolled her eyes and looked at him with disgust.  She was already beginning to regret her decision.  And if there was ever a physical altercation between them, it would be a very one-sided affair.  She would have to be firm to make sure she didn’t get pimp-slapped around. “Daniel I have much more class than the typical woman, and the typical woman has more class than the strippers and streetwalkers you’re used to.  There’s a lot of things you’re going to have forget about.  Cumming on my face?  I find it degrading.  Don’t even think about it.  Calling me a bitch, whore, slut, skank?  I’d break up with you the second you do it.  Anal sex?  Never, not even if we get married.  Fellatio?  I might consider it.  But you would have to really earn it.  I have more fingers on my either of my hands than number of guys I did that for, and even then I would not ‘choke’ on their penis.  Spanking me?  No.  I hope by now you get the picture.”

Daniel pouted and didn’t even try to conceal his complete disappointment.  This would be a relationship completely different than what he was accustomed to.  He desperately wanted her, and her cat and mouse game only made him want her even more. “Uh… ok.  That changes things.  But alright.  I’m going to have to use the same line you used on me, “there’s just something about you”  Oh and one more thing.  Do I still get to listen to Linkin Park?  Because that would be a deal breaker”.

“Yes.  Go ahead and listen to Linkin Park.” She said, giving off a slight chuckle.  Clearly, the band was important to him.  If she was going to have this strong, hunk of a man, there were a few things she would have to put up with as well.

“What about Nine Inch Nails?”

She shook her head with a smirk.  Perhaps he wanted to make sure he could listen to whatever he liked.  Or perhaps he just wanted to be a smart ass. “Never heard of them, but same answer.  I don’t associate my partners taste in music with myself being degraded.  Listen to whatever you want, as long as it isn’t a Hitler-worshiping song, or something else completely appalling.”

Daniel let out a sigh of relief.  There was at least some chance she would be reasonable.  But with that out of the way, his eyes and face once again turned to lust and desire.  He wanted to have her, now.  He was aware she was not the type to hand out instant gratification.  So he would have to gratify her instead. “So you said you wouldn’t give me a lap dance.  What if I gave you one?”

She couldn’t believe what she just heard, as she gasped out in shock.  It wasn’t like he had offended her.  Rather, it was completely unexpected.  It took her a good fifteen seconds to even muster up a response. “Uh… I don’t know.  I’ve never had one before.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, shaking his head.  Does she actually want me at all, or is she trolling me? “Oh come on.  Don’t be a total prude.  It’s fun, and even if you don’t like it, all you have to say is stop and I’ll stop.”

Once again, she had to think long and hard about his proposal.  It seemed reasonable enough.  She had never even thought of a man giving a woman a lap dance.  But he was as sexy as they got.  He could pass as a male model even, just as she could pass as a female one.  They both had their careers, but that was besides the point. “Fine…  So what do you want me to do exactly?

Daniel prayed that she would love this.  Otherwise, it would backfire.  He would even get his feelings hurt if she ended up hating this, and that was coming from a man as tough as nails. “Just sit down in your chair.  Sit down and don’t do anything.  I’ll take it from here.”

Rose hesitantly sat down on her Benetti’s luxury Italian couch, her feelings clear as she glanced at Daniel as if he were about to do something crazy. Her eyes darted in between him and the iPhone he was now plugging into his Dr. Dre stereo. Her confusion showed on her face as he did. Simply causing him to stifle a bit of laughter at her reaction. “What are you getting that out for?”

Daniel grinned, a catlike one, naughty in nature. He’d chuckle under his breath as he made sure the sound wouldn’t blast their ears open, and change the song to ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails, turning to Rose, whose signs of nervousness was beginning to show. “The fact you asked that question is proof enough you’ve never had a lap dance.”
As the music started, he immediately began to do a crotch grab and sexually intense pelvic thrusts.  He flowed in perfect rhythm with the beats.  She could already tell he’d done this before, and clearly knew what he was doing.  The lyrics, on paper, sounded like something she would hate.  But to see him, right there, dancing like that, turned her on like mad.

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you”

Daniel took his shirt off.  The only time she’d seen him without his shirt off before was the night they met- and that didn’t count, she was too bruised up and shattered to possibly be sexually aroused, even in spite of how incredible his body looked.  This was very different.  She had complete control of this situation.  At least she hoped.  His abs, chest were perfect and looked like a flawless Greek statue.  Except he appeared to have scars.  But that only made it sexier.

Help me, I broke apart my insides

Help me, I’ve got no soul to sell

Help me, the only thing that works for me

Help me get away from myself

He sat down in her lap, his legs wrapped around her.  She could feel his dick.  It was rock hard, and the bulge seemed bigger than what she was used to.  She felt herself getting wet, her heartbeat starting to accelerate.  He put his fingers through her hair, and kissed her lips, looking at her emerald green eyes with his own brown-eyed lust.  His Italian ancestry showed, his firm olive complexion pressed up against her fair elegance.  Their ancestors had met almost 2,000 years prior in this very place.  Though neither of them knew it, and at this point neither of them cared.

He got back off of her, standing back up.

“I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to God”

He unbuckled his pants and pulled his zipper down, intentionally doing it slowly.  To make her have to wait for it, to force her to anticipate it.  Soon his pants were completely off, as he tossed them across the floor.  His blue boxers and white socks were his only articles of clothing remaining.  His legs looked even better than his chest, and that was a bold statement.  Not overly muscular to the point that he looked like a ridiculous bodybuilder on steroids, but tough enough to look like he was in extremely good shape and took care of himself.

He sat back down on her lap, his legs crossing her waist once more.

You can have my isolation

You can have the hate that it brings

You can have my absence of faith

You can have my everything

She hadn’t been this wet in a long time, not even during intercourse.  She was already started to pant.  Daniel was about to caress her stomach.


Daniel frowned and felt extremely frustrated.  “So you didn’t like it after all?  I’ve got to say I’m disappointed.”

“No.  That was the bloody sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.  I want you to keep that song playing, pick me up, carry me to me bedroom, and take me.”

He let out a wide grin.  The sex wouldn’t be as rough as what he was accustomed to.  But he would get to do the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  And the classiest.  And most intelligent, elegant, and educated.  Absolutely worth it.  She probably had more to teach him than he could teach her, and he knew a lot.

He picked her up by her ass and legs, with Rose holding the iPhone and speakers in her hands.

“Help me, tear down my reason

Help me, it’s your sex I can smell

Help me you make me perfect

Help me become somebody else”

He had never been in her bedroom before.  It was magnificent, beautiful.  Far unlike the minimalist, simple living quarters in his apartment.  He would estimate her bed alone cost almost 3,000 dollars.  It was made of brown exotic wood, golden colored pillowcases, and had a canopy over the top.  He’d never seen anything like this.  He had the money to buy things like this himself, it just never occurred to him.  He laid her down on her bed.

“I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to god”

“What are you waiting for, idiot?  Undress me and fuck me.  Fuck me until I’m sore like I’ve never been.”  Rose was used to talking like a lady, and raised not to say such things.  She’d temporarily forgotten about it.

Daniel was surprised by her sharp tongue.  But it didn’t bother her.  In fact, he liked it.   It was what he was used to.  He was in her house.  Hell, he was in her country.  But he was starting to feel like he had the home field advantage.

He unzipped her dress slowly.  He wasn’t used to a woman wearing something like this, and it appeared to be very expensive.  Surely if it broke she would be very upset.  “What’s taking you so long Daniel?”  She couldn’t stand it anymore.

Soon it all came off.  He gently laid the dress down, and she threw it off the bed like it didn’t matter at all.

“Through every forest, above the trees

Within my stomach, scraped off my knees

I drink the honey inside your hive

You are the reason I stay alive”

Daniel was stunned by her body.  Her breasts looked incredibly perfect, yet at the same time was not helped by a plastic surgeon.  He knew the difference.  They were easily double D’s, if not significantly bigger.  And her frame was so thin.  Too perfect.  Every inch of her skin was flawless.  She was even more attractive than he was, and that said a lot.  She was even more beautiful with her clothes off than on.   He took off his own boxers and socks, now there was absolutely nothing on either one of them.  She got on all fours, looking at him with immense desire.  She didn’t know this was a Nine Inch Nails song.  She didn’t know who Trent Reznor was.  But whoever he was, he knew what he was doing.  The beats of this song were fuck beats.  The entire song was a lust anthem that, under any other scenario in the world, she would hate.  Daniel made it work perfectly.

He thrust into her, going very soft and slow.  From her earlier description, anything other than extreme gentle sensations would offend her.  He would prefer to be safe than sorry.

“Fuck me like you mean it, idiot!” she cried out.

He didn’t have to hear that twice.  He tried to remember all the things she told him not to do.  It should still be possible to fuck her very hard, very fast, without breaking those rules.  He started going as fast and hard as he possibly could.  Maybe it would hurt her.  But she did literally ask for it.

It was indeed somewhat painful for her.  Not only was he more well endowed than what she was used to, but he had much more energy and force than what she was used to.  She let out loud moans.  It was not the type of ‘ooh baby I love it’ things she usually said.  She said those things just to make a man happy.  This time, what she said was unintelligible.  Just high pitched moaning sounds.  She made those sounds because she couldn’t help it, not out of any attempt to make Daniel happy.  She gripped her fists, digging her nails deeply into her pillow.

He kept going.  Though by now the music was almost over.  Surely, it didn’t matter.  It had done its purpose.  He thrust into her with rapid force, and held onto her breasts with his hands.  Not only because they looked wonderful to play with, but he was curious what they felt like- they felt amazing.

She came to an orgasm.  Normally she didn’t orgasm at all, or if she did, it took much longer than this.  And for her to orgasm before the man was an entirely new concept to her.  “oh Fuck, oh God!” she cried out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and slight tears coming out.

Daniel kept going.  He could potentially do this all night.  The only two limitations were the fluids in his balls, and how much soreness she could take.  He had a feeling he knew which of those would happen first.  She was panting incredibly hard.  Even Daniel started to notice her heart beats.  With each thrust she gave out an indecipherable feminine moan.  It only turned him on more.  Finally he realized he was going to orgasm.  “Can I cum in you?” he asked.

“I’m on the pill.  Go ahead, I don’t want a mess on my bed anyway.” She barely managed to say.  He came inside of her, his eyes tightly shutting as he finally made some gasps of his own.

He started rubbing his dick to make it hard again.  She put her hand over his.  “No.  No more.  You’ve already made me sore enough.  I have to be able to walk tomorrow.  Lay down on your back Daniel.”  He followed her instructions, laying down and panting.

She rested her head on his chest, admiring his body as he did the same to hers.  He was a wild, strong, young American rebel she wasn’t entirely sure she could tame.  She would have to worry about that later.  This felt too good.

“Daniel don’t leave.   Stay with me tonight.  Please?” she laced her fingertips through his hair.

“I wouldn’t leave unless you made me.”

“The man the night you met me.  You killed him for money, didn’t you?”


“So you didn’t feel sorry for me or empathetic for me?”

“I did.  But that’s beside the point.  Were it not for the money, I would have never shown up to that party, to begin with.  In fact, I wasn’t even invited, and had to sneak my way in.”

“Would you kill me for money?”

“I would kill literally anyone in the world for the right price.  Of course, for you, the price would be much higher.  I actually know you, and you definitely aren’t a piece of shit.”

“No… you don’t mean that.  Surely you don’t mean that.  You would actually kill me?  How much is my life worth?”

“Uh… I don’t know.  10 million dollars?  I’d kill you for 10 million dollars.”

“You think my life is worth 10 million dollars?”

“You should be honored by that price.  The average hit job runs between 15,000 dollars to 30,000.  If someone offered you 10 million dollars to kill me, you should definitely take it.”

“No, I would never do that.  I am not a horrible person.”

“I mean, nobody should take it personally given the context they only did it for the money.  No one in the world will pay me 10 million dollars to kill you anyway, because like I said, they could get someone else to do it for much cheaper.  And besides.  I’ve known you for less than a month.  You make it sound like we’re married with children, and we’ve been together for 10 years.  I won’t lie and tell you I don’t have feelings for you or that I’m not attracted to you.  I definitely am.  Still, the time we’ve been together is insignificant.   Look.  In some parts of the world, women are sold into slavery for less than the price of a goat.  For you, or even a man, to be worth 10 million dollars makes you extremely important.  There are people who would assassinate the royal family for that kind of money.

“That’s nice, and I appreciate the honesty.  But this isn’t the time or place.  When a woman is in bed with you who you just made love to, that’s not the right answer.  The right answer is that you wouldn’t kill me in any circumstance, and you’d give your life to protect me.  Even if that isn’t true, it’s what you should have said.  Had you said it, you’d have gotten a blow job.”

“Uh… fine then.  That’s what I meant to say.”

“No.  Too late.  You already said the wrong thing.  But don’t worry, this won’t be your last chance.  Just your last chance for tonight.”


“He’s bad.  He’s a criminal.  You used to date such respectable men. 

Rose, what happened to you?”

“Dad, is this really what you have to say for the man who possibly saved my life?”

“He did one good thing.  For that I’m willing to repay him.  However this is not

the kind of man you should be so close with.  He’s dangerous.”

“I’m a 28 year old woman.  I’ll date who I bloody please!”

“If you continue dating him, I’ll stop talking to you.  I didn’t raise you to be

with someone so trashy and probably a criminal.”

Rose paused for some time, trying to think of a solution.

“How about this.  As you know, Daniel is in a boxing tournament and the final match is

one month from today.  If he loses, I’ll not only stop seeing him but from now on every

man I date will have your approval.  If he wins, you have to approve of him.”

“Rose are you crazy?” Daniel exasperated.  “He’s one of the top ranked boxers in the

country.  He’s been knocking almost everyone out in the third or fourth round of each

match and I’ve been barely winning.  There’s no way I can win.”

“If that’s the case,” Mr. Ipswitch said, “then I’d be willing to make that deal.  Only

because I know Daniel will lose.”

“He won’t.  Bet as much money on him as you like, and you’ll become much richer, dad.”

“I’m not throwing my money away.”

“Fine.  I’ll bet on him with my own money.  I’ll bet at least 10,000 pounds that he’ll win, if

not more.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“I will.  And you’ll regret having not done so yourself.”

“I can afford to lose 10,000 pounds much more than you can, and I don’t want to throw

away that kind of money.  But fine.  I’ll also bet 10,000 pounds on him, just so when he

loses I’ll have one more thing to prove you were wrong about.”


“I don’t know how in the hell you thought I can win this fight, but you’re definitely


“I believe in you Daniel.  Of course you can win.”

“I can’t.  I already had a pretty good feeling, but after looking up his stats I’m even more

sure.  He is apparently capable of throwing 320 punches in one minute.  That’s

beyond exceptional. I’ve been working ass off to come close to him, and I can’t.

He’s quicker on his feet, he can lift more than me, and his average punch gives about one

and a half times the strength of mine.  He’s heavier than me and the extra baggage is only

pure muscle.  Even the few fights that he lost, he took a lot more abuse whereas I

would have been knocked out.  I know I’m a tough, strong guy.  But that doesn’t mean I’m

stronger than him.  I’m going to lose.”

“You’re the strongest, most relentless man I’ve ever known.  I have a hard time believing

  you’d lose.”

“I’m probably the first athletic man you’ve ever dated.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Besides the point.  I know myself, I know boxing in general, and I know him.  He will

slaughter me.”

“I am sure he won’t slaughter you.  If anything it would be the other way around.”

“You know that I’m a very tough guy.  Me managing to kill a dumbass who had his back

turned to me doesn’t make me qualified to win a fight of this magnitude.  I am much

stronger than about 98% of the general population.  I am male, in my twenties, I’m

in exceptionally good physical shape, and I’m used to combat on a regular basis.  But

you’re only looking at me, without looking at my opponent.  Even if the vast, vast majority

of dumbasses who decide to attack me on the street would end up in the hospital after I

give them 15 seconds of attention, that’s not who I’m fighting.  I’ve been barely winning my

matches, and in some cases only winning because the judges controversially gave me more

points than my opponents.  My opponent hasn’t lost a single match for over 5 years, and

competes in much bigger tournaments than this.  Most people thought this was too small

of a venue for him, but he’s only entering because he knows winning is a sure thing. 

Some people are even arguing that this guy is the best boxer to ever live.  I am

a wildcard team who somehow made it to the Super Bowl, partly out of sheer luck and

partly out of favoritism from the refs, and my opponent is the 1985 Chicago Bears. 

Why can’t you see this? 

You are my girlfriend, I mean I guess you are by this point.  So you have to be politically

correct and say you’re sure I can win no matter what.  But people who are not dating me

and are also putting their money where their mouth is by actually betting on the fight

clearly think I don’t have a chance.  The betting spread favors my opponent by well over

6,000 points.  Look at this:” Daniel said, tossing Rose a catalog with a description of the up

and coming fight.

“Lucario Giovanni. 


Could very well be overconfident and not take his opponent seriously.  Has off the field

issues with his wife getting into his bank account and taking trips to the Bahamas without

his consent.”


Undefeated boxer throughout almost his entire career.  Incredibly precise footwork.  To call him a

gym rat would be a massive understatement and his brute force is amazing.  The timing of

his jabs are as genius as they are overwhelming.  Even in the few fights where it seemed he

could lose, he easily took back control and won. 

“Now compare that to what they say about me.”

“Daniel O’Brian.  Weaknesses:

Is incredibly off balance in the ring.  Doesn’t seem to have enough stamina to last more

than 4 rounds.  Makes easy mistakes.  Gets overwhelmed quickly.  Appears to be blind in

his right eye, thus impacting peripheral vision.  Is very lacking in experience as a

professional boxer.


Is a very dedicated man and never gives up.  Works hard and will do anything to win. 

Fights with passion.  Has come this far in the tournament meaning he isn’t being taken

seriously enough. His mother, who we’ve personally interviewed, believes in him. 

“I think all of this information is very telling.  Especially the “strengths” they gave me,

considering it is just a bunch of feel-good baloney.”

“Even if you lose, I won’t hold it against you.”



“Why risk this all for me?  Your own father tells you he won’t talk to you if

you continue t be with me, and you’d rather be with me.  Why?  What do you

see in me that makes me so good?  Is it because I saved you the night we

met?  Because that isn’t worth thanking me for.”

“It definitely is worth thanking you for.  But that isn’t the only reason

why I like you.”

“What is it, then?”

“You’re quite different than anyone I’ve ever been with.”

“Why would that make you like me, though?  Until recently, I haven’t even

been polite to you.”

“The only reason why you were being impolite is because you thought

you didn’t have a chance to get with me so you thought insulting me first

would have been better than swallowing your pride.”

“You must be incredibly good at reading people, because that’s exactly what I was


“I can read people pretty well, especially men.  It comes with experience.”

“Tell me all you know about me, or everything you think you know about me.”

“You’re both strong and weak.  You’re far more vulnerable than you

want to admit.”

“Is that all?”

“No.  But it’s by far the most important thing.”

“How is that important? It’s not even true.”

“I apologize, I brought this up too soon, before you’re ready to confront it.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re just wrong.  I don’t care how well you think you can read me, it

just isn’t true.”


“You know, the way you’ve been acting has been very suspicious.”

“I knew you would catch on eventually.  The only question is how much.”

“You bet a hell of a lot of money, literally over 500,000 pounds that I would win that fight.

Most likely that’s all the money you have combined.  Obviously you knew for a fact that I

was going to win.  Then the fight itself- I was knocked out cold with a concussion, I was

done.  I was gone.  What happened after that I didn’t experience, because I wasn’t

fighting.  I had a vision of the same man I started to see when I first met you.  He took

control of my body and I watched like an invisible ghost from the sidelines.  He won that

match, not me.  And I easily saw how you reacted, with your front row seats.  Every person

in that room and probably the world was shocked by the turn of events- that I would not

only recover so easily from a concussion but go on to win the match.  Everyone but you.

You didn’t look surprised at all.  Like you knew this was going to happen.  I only know two

things.  First, my visions of this man didn’t begin until I met you for the first time.  To

make it more blatantly obvious, he seems to have been set in ancient times- and you are

an ancient history professor.

Second, you knew what was going to happen in that fight.  You knew that I was weaker

than him but that was irrelevant- this man from my visions would come and make me

win.  To summarize, it is obvious to me you know a lot more about me and what will

happen to me than I know myself.  What I don’t know is whether you’re good or


“Dangerous?  Daniel if I meant you ill you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Yep, that’s the problem.  Here I was thinking you were a pushover who just ended up

having a crush on me due to my saving you the night we met, but that probably had almost

nothing to do with it.  You’ve been one step ahead of me the entire time, and will probably

continue to be as long as I know you.”

“Nothing bad happened to you though.  You’ve become an overnight celebrity from

winning that match, and you’ve won even my father’s respect.”

“My personal winnings from that match weren’t anywhere remotely near yours.  And the

only reason I won is because of him.  The man from my visions.  I have no way of knowing

how consistent he will be, or if he will even come back again.  Here’s what I’m getting at.

You’d better be honest with me, and you’d better not keep secrets anymore.”

“Fine.  I’ll tell you everything.”

“You won’t.  If that were the case you’d have done so already.”

“If I told you everything when we first met, would you have believed me?”

“No.  I thought I was going crazy when I first met you, and if you told me everything then I

would have said you’re just as crazy as I am.”

“So you see why I didn’t tell you.”

“Fine, I guess.  Apparently you know a hell of a lot about him.  Who is this man, where is

he from, why do I share some… connection with him?”

“His name is Valerius Maximus.  He started his life as a slave, then was freed from slavery

from his master who was pleased by his performance as a gladiator.  He personally

crucified Jesus on the cross, and after extreme guilt became a traitor to the Roman Empire

to join a rising empire in the east, Parthia.  Which is located in modern day Iran.”

“So why do I keep seeing visions of him?  Why did he take control of me in the ring?”

“He’s your ancestor.  Jesus preserved his memories and his spirit so his descendant,

2000 years later, would see.”

“What do I have to learn these visions?”

“You will have to make serious choices just as he did.  Of course, there was a way for you

to avoid all of this, but it’s too late.”

“Let me guess, by having never met you?”

“Yes.  You rescued me but that was irrelevant.  You rescued me because you wanted to kill

for money, not to save me.  Look.  A lot of danger and tough choices lie ahead of you,

whether you like it or not.  Your connection with Valerius is a curse, not a gift.

It’s not to say everything is too late or that you’re doomed.  But you ate from the

forbidden fruit- you killed for money even though you knew you shouldn’t have.  Now this

will stay with you unless you break the curse.”

“How did you know I killed for money?  I never told you.”

“You can’t hide your thoughts from me.  As long as I’m in close proximity to you, I always

know what you’re thinking.”

“Christ.  So why’d you ask me if you already knew?”

“I was curious how honest you would be.  You aren’t a very honest person.”

“It sounds like you don’t think much of me.”

“Actually, I do.  Just not for the reasons you originally thought.”

“Let’s get this straight- the night I met you, was that situation planned?”

“No, and I’m honestly offended you think I would do that.  I didn’t know how or where I

would meet you, much less that you would be an American.  I didn’t know who you were.

As in, I didn’t know who Daniel O’Brian was.  I’ve known who Valerius Maximus was

since I was a little girl.  How do you think I became an ancient history professor at one of

the top universities in the world, even at my young age?  Through sheer obsession with it.

The first time I saw you I recognized the connection I’d been waiting my whole life for.”



 ((NOTE  the following is meant to be at the very end of the book, as sort of a cliffhanger until the sequel:))

“Merry Christmas Daniel.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“I want to let you know what I got you first. I’ve been quite anxious to know what you’d think of it.

You told me more than anything you’d like to know who your father was. You want the

good news or the bad news?”

“I thought this was a Christmas present. How is there bad news?”

“Well, the bad news is we aren’t precisely sure who he was. But we do know his ancestry

through your DNA.

  Your father is of Mediterranean ancestry, with Italian being the most probable.”

“That doesn’t exactly help much.”

“No, but it’s a start. I did tell you my father owns a large hedge fund and I’ve convinced

him to spend some money and resources looking into finding him.

We have it narrowed down to a list of less than 50 suspects.”

“Do you have any idea how long it will take them to find them?”

“Anywhere from 4 months to two years. But they’re on a good track with several

leads. Once they find him, you can do whatever you plan to. I won’t try to stop you. You’re

actually going to kill him, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.  Why shouldn’t I?”

“I completely understand why you hold a grudge against your father.  However,

you will be given a choice when the time comes.”


“I’m unsure.  I know a lot, but not everything.  The choice will be between either killing

your father or something else.  I also know your father will eventually come back to kill

your mother, then later kill you, and finally kill me.”

“Unless I kill him first?”


“So why the hell wouldn’t I want to kill him?”

“I’m not sure.  This is why I’m trying to help you do it.  When the time comes, you’ll know

what the other option is.”

“I’d trade the world to kill him.”

“And I’m glad to help make that happen.”

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