View Full Version : Rogue Cop-

06-25-2007, 04:04 PM

I had been in situations such as this plenty of times, however this one might be my last. Brass plate on the door denoted it as ‘COURTROOM NO.3,’ but it was just a large jail cell. Four small tables, which where nothing more than monitor stands, and the chair I was shackled to were the only furnishings in the place.

Jury was housed next door, behind a wall of bulletproof glass. Bailiff was the only other living being in the stark white room. No windows, no state seal, not even the flags, but those could all be seen on the judge’s sixty-inch monitor. The monitors for the court reporter and attorneys were only a third that size, but all four people were in shadows. Cameras in the corners gave the viewing audience just what they wanted a good picture from all angles.

There I sat, waiting for a verdict I already knew, guilty. I didn’t care if the jury took their sweet ass time, I could use a break. This place smelled of stale air, a far cry from the stench of piss the cellblocks reeked of. Wondered if I got fed the same as the good-minded moral citizens serving their country? I doubt they would drag the slop they served in the blocks all the way up here.

The prosecutor leaned into the camera, out of the shadows, to give me a smug look and blatant wink. He hadn’t provided any solid evidence against me, but he didn’t have to. New laws were being made daily and civil liberties lost as fast. The one that got most of my kind, and about to get me was, guilty by suspicion.

The fifteen jurists filed in to their room. This was another new wrinkle in the court system, only twelve had to agree on a verdict. Even behind the heavy translucent plastic masks the jurors wore I could tell they were all smiling. They had only been out for twenty-five minutes. My so-called peers didn’t even take the time to read the charges.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” The shadowy video image of the judge requested.

“We have your Honor,” the foreman responded. He made it short and sweet, “Guilty, of all charges.”

The video judge instructed, “Thank you, for doing your civic duty. Bailiff, you may dismiss the jury.”

Without a word, the jury followed an officer out of their room, as the bailiff in here went out in the hall. There I sat, next to the video monitor of my court-appointed lawyer. Hell, as useless as this prick had been, it might as well have been off.

The semi-obscured images of the judge and prosecutor waited patiently on their monitors for the reappearance of the bailiff.

He returned carrying papers, and stood beside the judge's monitor.

His honor cleared his throat. “Brian Garrys a.k.a. ‘The Dragon,’ on the sixteenth day of January in the year twenty twenty-one, you have been found guilty of the following counts against the state of Old California.”

Old California, what a joke! After the federal government collapsed from the staggering deficit the states gained a lot of power. The powers that be, called it Old California trying to convince people they would be returning to better ways. No unions, slave wages, no decent housing, rising cost of living, and no civil rights, maybe it was old times. Only the privileged could drive, could see a doctor, have more than one child, or had a choice in what they ate and wore. Neither Old or California should be in the state’s new name.

The bailiff read off the charges. “Two counts of bribery, four counts of extortion, two counts of escaping a penal facility, one count of illegal gambling, three counts of attempted murder, and seven counts of grand theft auto.” He looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. This day and age auto theft was tough to do, but they only caught me once. “One count of armed robbery, four counts of assault and battery, five counts of inciting a riot, ten counts of anti-government speeches, and five counts of unlawful assembly.”

The prosecutor pointed his finger at me, and acted as if he shot me. Darrin Gables, assistant to the Attorney General, a publicity hound, here to run up his conviction rate by tacking on a bunch of useless charges to my rap sheet. His boss, John Prentiss, a major proponent of the ‘get tough on crime’ laws that were now needed, or so he claimed. He was the top council that broke the unions. In two years he was running for Governor and going to have his favorite ass-kisser, Darrin Gables, as Lieutenant Governor, or Attorney General.

I had to hand it to him, Darrin knew how to play the camera and crowd. Smart Cal-credits would be the cameras were off for his antics. Wasn’t much else to do so I gave him a head bob and blew a kiss. He scowled, and shrank back in the shadows like the rat bastard he was, as I chuckled.

Shaking his head, the bailiff paused to catch his breath. “One count of malicious maiming, two counts of selling a controlled substance, one count of forging Cal-credits, two counts of forging tax stamps, one count of making and distributing illegal alcohol, sixteen counts of probation violation, one count of resisting arrest, and seven counts of assaulting a peace officer.”

I couldn’t be sure but I think the judge was sleeping. Who could blame him, this crap was a fairy tale. No wonder they were in shadows, it was easier to lie.

With a deep sigh, the bailiff stopped and shuffled through a couple of pages. "Fifty-four failures to appear, five counts driving under the influence, three counts of destroying your alcohol ignition lock, seven counts of unauthorized driving, three counts of breaking and entering, two counts of receiving stolen property, and three hundred counts of failure to pay traffic tickets."

There was a moment of silence before the image of the judge spoke. I swear I could hear another vid-screen in the background on his monitor. This one was playing an old Law and Order episode. “Bailiff, you may add to the record the four contempt of court citations Mr. Garrys received during these proceedings. Now as for you Mr. Garrys, it seems you have broken just about every law on the books, excluding murder and any sex crimes. Do you have anything to say before I sentence you?”

I tried to stand, but the shackles dug in to my wrists forcing me to remain seated in the hard plastic chair. “Gotta code I live by.”

Judge and bailiff just shook their heads, as the prosecutor let loose a series of pig-like grunts. Even my lawyer let out a strange little gasp; a sound you’d think only came from young girls.

“Mr. Garrys, I have read your record thoroughly. As a judge and citizen, frankly I am appalled. You are twenty-six years old, and have never had a legal job of any kind. Can you explain this?”

"Just lucky, I guess. Who did you have to suck to get yours?"

"I have explained to you the seriousness of these crimes, several times, yet you insist on showing no concern, or remorse. In fact, you have shown nothing but contempt for our entire system of life, judicial infrastructure included. Do you have anything to add?"

"Well, your honor, I guess I'm just not that good of an actor. So, how about we get this dog and pony show over with?"

"You leave me no choice. The records show your first arrest occurred when you were six years old, aggravated assault, for stabbing a man –”

“He was attacking my mother.”

“The man was a boyfriend, and the number one client of your mother, a convicted fence. Probably, not the only offense she was guilty of.”

Being a shadow the judge could afford to say this shit, fearing no consequences from me. I knew he was trying to bait me, to get himself on the nightly news-vids, putting away the mad dog. I wasn’t falling for it, and didn’t even look at his honor and peered directly into a camera. “Well, he never did it again.”

“Seems he disappeared three years later. You have anything to do with this crime?”

“I was only nine, and I don’t recall ever hearing any charges were filed on that incident, or anyone even looking into the matter. I also didn’t hear such a charge in among all those other trumped up charges against me that was read off. But what the hell, add it to the others if you wish, don’t mean dick to me.”

“No, this will do. You have been arrested seventy-five times since that first one. You also have two felony convictions, and now your third. By the laws of the State of Old California and by a jury of your peers you have been found guilty of suspicion of the aforementioned crimes. You are hereby sentenced as a third offender to life imprisonment.”

There was applause coming from the judge’s monitor and he waited for it to die down. “Mr. Garrys you will be given the regular options for a lifer, except for a minimum-security facility. Because of your frequent escape attempts the possibility of sending you to anything less than a maximum-security prison for any good behavior you serve is forfeited. Bailiff, please record that in the prisoner's file."

Taking his time, the judge looked over a few papers in front of him. "From a personal view, I find you, Mr. Garrys, are a menace to the very essence of mankind. You are a complete sociopath who is unable to distinguish right from wrong. The only place for you in this society is a cage. May god have mercy on your soul, if you have one." Judge's screen went black, seconds before the prosecutor’s did.

"Well, good luck," my lawyer offered.

"Aren't you going to fill me full of crap about appeals and mistrials, or other such legal things?"

The image of my lawyer laughed. "Are you kidding? Man, you’re totally screwed. If you had only one or two charges, there might’ve been a chance, but three hundred odd charges… Christ, I never had a shot. Face it, a conviction on one or two would carry the same penalty. I’ll bring you the options you may choose for your punishment in a day or two. Anything else I do would be just a waste of my time and yours." His screen went blank, as he sat there shaking his head and giggling.

"It's no wonder the bastards ain't here in real life. I'd kill the motherless–”

“Come on, Dragon, you aren't gonna do squat. Maybe a few years ago, before the new courts, you might’ve, but man, now you can't even take a crap when you want." The bailiff laughed, as he started unlocking my shackles from the chair.

I leaned forward so he could unlock the lock behind me easier, mumbling, “Least you got the balls to be in the same room with me. Why even have the jury in the next room, they could be off with the other cowards?”

“Somebody has to escort you around, that’s my job. Reason you get to see the jury alive, so you can see they are real, not holo-gens.”

With a snort I shook my head, and stretched all of a foot after being released from the chair. “What the hell difference does that make? We both know those imbecile citizens were handpicked by that prick Gables. It took longer to read the charges than to present the evidence, or the jury to deliberate. You’d think they woulda played the part a little better and took half a day before screwing me.”

The bailiff smiled, and gave me a shrug. “Gables isn’t the most liked around here, and to a man we were all happy when this system came into being. He’s at the primary capital now and never comes down here. So, did you get the nickname first, or the fancy tattoo?”

I looked down at my right elbow, where the red dragon’s mouth ended and flames began. The flames ran all the way down to my knuckles. On the back of my left hand was the tip of the tail, spiraled around my arm, with full body in between, front and back. “The name. People used to think they could cheat my mother, and some even tried it. I’d teach them a lesson by burning their car or shanty. So, folks would say, ‘If you ain’t on the level and try to screw Gigi the fire dragon will come.’ I shortened it to Dragon a–”

Holding the door open for me the bailiff cut in, “Gigi? Your mother was the Gigi that old street gang ‘the 77’s’ allegedly went to war with about ten years ago?”

I small-stepped it out the door, and was met by the pungent odor of cellblock ‘D’ and its citizens. Which was only slightly better than my residence on cellblock ‘A.’ “Yeah, Virginia Garrys was my mother. Allegedly, the 77’s shot up her place. Three thousand plus rounds, one was bound to do the job. Guess it was too much evidence, because nothing was ever done.”

“Come on Dragon, you know damn well there was yet another turf war, and the 77’s disappeared. Weren’t no one left for the police to arrest.”

“Oh yeah, I remember it well. Seems most died in fires, according–”

“You? Are you trying to say you took out the 77’s? Hell, you were a damn kid.”

Shaking my head I gave him a sly smile. “I never said anything about me, did I? After the last, Big Red, their leader, was gone I had the tattoo done. Took me three months of constant work to have her done. I call her Vengeance.”

Bailiff led me back to my cell, and took my manacles off me. It was good to be free of the chains, and I took turns rubbing the life back into my wrists. Twenty stories deep in this bunker I don’t even know why they put me on such a short leash. Had to be fifty checkpoints from ground level, and on my best day I might get through a third of them. No this time, I wasn’t going anywhere until they wanted me to.

* * *

I sat in that cell staring at the walls, no exercise period, no shower, nothing but watching that dull green paint peel for two days. I guess they wanted me to stew about my fate, or appreciate when they came and got me to see my vid-lawyer.

Guard came and shaking my head I took a look around. “Gonna miss all this. The fine dining, great conversation, and ******ce.”

The guard motioned for me to spin around so he could get to the back locks. “You can be as sarcastic as you want Dragon, but where they’re sending you you’ll miss this place in no time.”

He was probably right, but I wasn’t about to admit it as he escorted me down the hall. Soon I sat shackled at a table across from a monitor, with nothing to do but glare at the device. Bars on the door and the same décor as my cell, they didn’t even try to disguise this as a meeting room.

Within a few minutes the image of my attorney flickered to life. "Good morning Mr. Garrys, I see you are well." Dumb ass waited a few seconds for a response, until he figured out it wasn’t coming. "I’ve written a list of choices you have for your sentence. You’ve been given life, as you well know. If you opt for prison, you‘ll serve out your time at the Old California Pacific Penal Islan–”

“Whoa! The rock, there's like a death a day there dude. I ain't going. You gotta do better than that. You can’t be completely worthless."

“There are several options at your disposal. You’ve been given twenty years of hard labor if any of these others aren’t chosen, then the rest of your life will be spent at a minimum-security facility. Because you didn’t kill anyone, you qualify for all of the alternatives. First, the asteroid mines. Sentence will be cut in third for good time.”

"Seven years as an asteroid miner. Who are you shitting? Average lifespan of a miner is three years. That’s a god damn death sentence, and doesn’t sound like good odds. Pass!"

"Okay, how about volunteering for criminal research. You’ll be studied between five to six years, then rehabilitated for one or two–”

“Stuck and probed like a guinea pig, then given a mind wipe. Nah, I don't want to spend the rest of my days washing dishes and pissing in my pants. Next!"

My attorney rearranged the papers. "How about undersea colonization? You'd have to spend fifteen years on the ocean floor, with good behavior."

"Five major accidents in two years, and living in an inverted fishbowl, that doesn't sound like me. Not a chance in hell!”

"The only other thing is a new program P.A.R.O.L.E."

“Parole!” I give him a snort at spelling it out for me. "Now we’re getting places, this sounds promising, how long would I be on probation?"

My attorney laughed. "It's not probation. It can’t be explained in full, until you decide if it’s for you, or–”

”So, I’m going in blind? Pass, dumb ass!”

I found out why they are on video monitors when my attorney leaned into the camera and gave me a look that would get him strangled if he was within arm’s reach. “You don’t have much choice! It’s this, or a box. I don’t care one way or another.”

“Do I get some freedom? Are they using a mind wipe?”

“Yes, some freedom, which shall be closely monitored. No mind wipes or ***** are used, but you do have twelve weeks of intensive training and indoctrination. This will be quite demanding, and you’ll have to pass a physical test. You’ll serve your time, shall we say as a trustee. Since I’m here to advise you, I highly recommend the asteroid mining. They’ve improved techniques over–”

“I’ll take the parole thing.”

He raised an eyebrow. "It’s my job to inform you P.A.R.O.L.E. isn’t in your best interest. I think–”

Clown was really pissing me off spelling it like he kept doing. “You fuckin’ work for me, and I gotta do the time! Tell whoever, I'll take parole. I don't know dick about asteroids, or the ocean, and ain’t spending my life in a cage. Do it!”

“State one more time, your interest, Mister Garrys. And if you would place your right thumb on the mark in the corner of the monitor.”

I did as instructed and a got a pinprick from placing my thumb on the screen, or maybe a little jolt of static electricity. “Parole! Now, just get me fuckin’ out of here!”

“So be it.” He gave me a smirk. “Good luck, dumb ass, you’re going to need it.” His screen went blank, and shortly after everything went black around me as well.

* * *

Came to, strapped to a bed, staring at a concrete ceiling and contemplating the throbbing in my head. Bad enough I had no idea where I was, but why was I so damn sore? The place reeked of antiseptic, which was nothing close to what my old cell smelt like. A hazy image of someone in white scrubs was coming my way.

Shutting my right eye, I realized I couldn’t see out of my left. Scraping my head against the pillow I found bandages on my right ear. I was in a fog thinking I had gotten into a jailhouse fight. Trouble was I couldn’t remember any specifics. Wouldn’t be the first time I got drunk, in a fight and forgot a night, but I had been in jail, not out drinking.

Oh well, I figured this was my lucky day, I was in the jail infirmary. Food wasn’t half bad and they had female nurses. My eye came back into focus and I saw one mean looking bull dyke, or an inmate in drag, coming my way. From the shadows on the wall I noted the thick bars on the windows, not heavy screen. No mistake about where I was now. “What the hell am I doing in a prison infirmary? What happened to me?”

She had forgotten to shave this morning and I was glad she was wearing a long sleeved shirt under her scrubs. With a forced smile she showed me she was missing at least three teeth. “Procedures were performed, and all are healing fin–”

“Whoa, procedures? What the hell are you talking about, surgery? Wasn’t a damn thing wrong with me before–”

“Doctor will be in shortly to explain it to you better.”

Her voice sounded feminine enough, but I swear she was sporting a slight Adam’s apple, and was that chest hair peeking out of her collar? This mystery could wait, I had another more pressing one. “Explained better? Ain’t been told shit! How about a clue, nurse? Hey, how about untying me? Dude, dudette, or whatever, I’m a sitting duck like this! You gotta let me defend myself from these animals in here.”

She or he left, none too pleased.

It wasn’t too long when someone else showed up. He was dressed in scrubs, and had a stethoscope dangling from his neck. The doctor I assumed. Dark skinned, East Indian maybe, and I don’t think he was old enough for a driver’s license. He took a look at my eye, nodding, and mumbling to himself, “Optical implant is –”

“I’m a career convict, Doc. Run that by me in simple English.”

“As far as healing goes, your mechanical eye looks good, as does the ear insert. Incisions on your chest are also healing well. You should be shipping out in five days. I have said all I can, everything will be explained to you later.”

Wasn’t nothing wrong with my damn eye or ear, and I had no idea what they might have put in my chest. “Ah, you ain’t explained shit, Doc. You did something to my eye and ear, what for?”

“It will be explained later, for now–”

“Let me loose! You bastards used me for training exercises.” I started spewing profanities while he checked me out. When I got through all of them at least once, I ran through them again.

He left too, none too pleased, and without untying me.

Five days later I was shackled in a windowless bus riding to who knows where. I was given the same information about the destination as I was my surgery procedures, nothing.

* * *


With someone outside yelling attention a guard jerked me out of the bus by my shackles into the bright light of a mid-day afternoon. This shabby treatment wasn’t doing my headache any good. Cussing the doctors, I bent down trying to shield my eyes.

"You little maggot, I told you attention." Someone was screaming in my ear, and spitting all over my face. Someone that had been eating road kill for lunch, and under the false impression I gave even the slightest of a damn.

I tried looking up, but it had been months since I’d last seen the sun. "Go fuc–”

The dude with the serious attitude hit me in the side hard. I dropped to my knees as the wind rushed out of my lungs.

"You piece of civilian puke. You say that to me again and I’ll crush your chicken shit skull. You got that tough guy?" The shadow in front of me held my head up with a club. But, he kept his distance so what little air I did get wasn’t polluted by his lunch, or maybe it was his usual stench.


"Yes what? You stupid piece of human filth." The shadow pressed the club hard into my throat.

"Yes, sir."

"You dumb civilian son of a bitch, do I look like a lazy ass officer? You address me as sergeant, you stupid puke." The shadow shoved the club against my windpipe, choking out the last of my air, and was back in my face. "Do you understand, puke?"

"I forgot the question, Sergeant Puke," I managed to hiss, just before the bright sun went black.

* * *

I woke up rather abruptly with a face full of water, or at least I hoped it might be water. Hard cold concrete pressed against my head, which certainly gave me an idea to why my killer of a headache had increased. Sitting up caused little yellow bolts of light to dart between my eyes.

"Well, hard ass, it's so nice of you to join our little group." A large image of a person stood before me, but my eyes weren’t focusing just yet. Still, that smell said he was the one that gave me the headache.

"Now get up you piece of crap," he shouted, grabbing my shirt and jerking me to my feet. "I swear to Christ, if you give me any more trouble, convict, I'll split your head like an overripe melon. Do you understand, puke?"

"Yes, Sergeant," I replied loud enough to make my head throb.

"Now that’s better, convict," he said, leering down at me. Christ, he was a big bastard, six-six and shoulders wide enough to give him trouble getting through some doors. No neck, dark eyes that held no compassion and enough scars to show he practiced what he preached. Clean-shaven, crew cut, it was no surprise to see the ‘Marine Corps For Life’ tattoo on a bicep, which could be mistaken for a tree trunk. “So, convict, would it be alright for me to continue?”

“Yes si– Sergeant.”

"Okay, you twelve ladies are now mine to do whatever I want with. Don't kid yourself, there’s nobody out there who gives even a half-ass shit about you, especially any public official. Hell, they ain’t much better than you felons, except they haven’t gotten caught yet.”

He eyeballed one of the prisoners, who straightened up as stiff as a board. “In joining this program you’ve given up all your rights. I know you’ve been told this already, but girls listen up one more time, it just might save one of your pathetic piss-ant lives.” He jabbed a meaty finger in our direction. “Each of you’ve been implanted with a small chip, and an even smaller piece of explosive. There are a minimum amount of guards here, truth is we don't need many. You wander outside the camp's perimeter, this chip will set off the explosive, which will leave a hole about one square foot in your chest. You start hearing it beep, turn around and get back here.”

Chest puffed out he strode the length of our line. “That’s what happens to the lucky bastards that get away from me. Right about now you’re probably thinking, ‘why bother doing anything this prick says?’ Answer is simple, you’ve no choice.” He gave a nod, and twelve of us screamed like we had hot pokers shoved up where the sun doesn’t shine. “That’s a small sample, and the function of that second chip in your chest.”

Just for good measure he nodded again, producing the same results. “Got your attention now ladies? If you’re not where you’re supposed to be, or giving us grief, you’ll get more of this treatment, remember that! Now, I’m here to get you ladies in shape, do as you’re told, and we’ll get along famously. Give me trouble and you’ll wish you were never born, that’s a promise, girls.”

That was the only instruction we got. Anything else was demonstrated with a jolt, after the fact.

* * *

We were housed in separate rooms in a large metal building, which had probably been for military use back before the collapse. With no air conditioning, running water, or even windows it was a bigger hellhole than my old cell. They probably kept it this way so no one would bitch about being outside.

There was nothing to do outside except exercise and more exercise. Still, it was better than being in the sweatbox all day long. Unfortunately neither was the nastiest thing we had to endure, which was the food. A bowl full of straight synth-food three times a day, washed down with a cup of weak ass coffee. Hell, they didn’t even try to spruce it up. Just a bowlful of foul lumpy gray goo, but every last lump was eaten.

Only half of us made it the full twelve grueling weeks. I’ve no idea where those that couldn’t cut it went, they just never showed up for the morning workout. Hell, I had no idea where those others that made it as far as I did went.

* * *

Following a short ride in a van, I found myself in a room, heavy screen on the window and green paint on the walls. A metal table and two chairs were the furnishings. It looked like we had entered an old warehouse, but there was a cop’s uniform hanging on back of the door. These facts, along with one of the walls being covered mostly by a mirror, let me know I was in an interrogation room. Probably at one of those auxiliary cop stations that no one was supposed to know about, but everyone did. I just stared into the mirror, waiting for the cops on the other side to come in and start giving me their normal ration of grief.

I didn’t have long to wait, and he was a Lieutenant, in uniform blues. Face scarred and well weathered, looked rough enough he probably came up through the ranks on the streets. “Dragon, I’ll be your immediate commanding officer, Lieutenant Samuel Jefferies. But, I doubt you give a tinker’s damn about my rank.”

“You must think I’m one of your cops. Sorry, you’re mistaken, I don’t suck–”

“Sorry, you’re mistaken,” he cut me off. “You’re Brian Garrys, a.k.a. the Dragon, now a P.A.R.O.L.E., under my command.”

“Parole, yes.” I chuckled at him spelling it out. “I ain’t no cop, or even a prison screw. Got nothing to do with you, never have, never will.”

“Guess, it’s time you find out what P-A-R-O-L-E really stands for. Police Adjutant Rogue Officer or Life Eradication.” He smiled at me. “Parole for short.”

Squinting into that mirror, I could feel those bastards laughing behind it. Had to put up with all this bullshit, just to get the screws put to me.

“Are you starting to get it, Dragon? Times are tough, and they aren’t getting any better out there. We’re fighting fire with fire. Course with the eye and ear monitors, coupled with those chest implants, you’re not exactly a rogue.”

“Christ, I can’t be no damn cop, last five generations of Garrys will be spinning in their graves.”

“Too late, you already signed up for it, Dragon. Word of warning, we see and hear everything you do, so it might be best to give it your all. We also control those chips. Just to be safe, we lose contact with you for more than five minutes- BOOM!”

He gave me a grin and shrug. “You start hearing a slight beep in your ear, call in, get to a hard line, or a working street monitor.”

“Screw this! What if I don’t do it?”

“Guess you didn’t catch those last two letters, L-E, ‘Life Eradication,’ ring a bell, Dragon? You gave the okay for termination, if you don’t fulfill your end of the parole.”

I was so totally screwed. While I was trying to figure the angles, he shrugged again, and raised an eyebrow my direction.

Shaking my head I glared at those others behind the mirror. “Where the hell am I going?”

“You’ll patrol ‘Old L.A.’ and life expectancies for rogues are less than two years. It doesn't look promising. You should’ve taken the asteroid mine. That uniform is yours, cop. Put it on, roll call in half an hour.”

The End (for now)

06-25-2007, 05:28 PM
Thanks for sharing that

06-25-2007, 10:37 PM

Our first story in our New Forum....hahahaha Thanks Wizard

06-25-2007, 11:37 PM
Whoa, I don't ever come first, well don't admit to it-
Enjoy the site, glad folks like chunks of my mind that flake off now and then

11-14-2007, 07:15 AM
this is a great story you should post more of it
keep em cumming

11-14-2007, 07:24 AM
thanks cum4me, haven't got a round to writing more

11-14-2007, 07:42 AM
when you get time this is one I think you should add to.
great story keep em cumming

11-15-2007, 07:19 AM
good story as usual Wizard.

11-15-2007, 08:12 AM
thanks niteowl

11-15-2007, 08:30 AM
You going to write more of this Wiz?

11-15-2007, 08:33 AM
yeppers miss freedom, thought it might be a trilogy of novelettes

11-15-2007, 08:34 AM
sweet...lol...if anyone gives you time to work on them huh?

11-15-2007, 05:33 PM
Oh no we cant have Wizard not writing . lol great story Wizard.

11-15-2007, 06:15 PM
Yeah I'm with Freedom. I know its lots of work but I want to see how Dragon gets along. Thanks for the story.

11-16-2007, 01:26 AM
Thanks Gypsy, Blueshark- yeah there's a bit more to this tale crawling around in my head, and i'll see what I can do