The Jerico Files #3

"GET OVER HERE GENTILE"

That was my commanding officer. Eitan Eshkol was his name. Loud and abrasive, but my superior nonetheless. His words were not to be taken lightly, or his discipline would be harsher than his words. I stopped what I was doing immediately and dashed over to him, snapping to attention when I arrived next to him.

He liked to call me "Gentile", it was his way of truly and firmly distinguishing me from the other soldiers. I was an Irish man, in an Israeli Army. There could be no more distinguishing me to the next guy. But, he liked to called me Gentile, so as to further set me aside. I did not mind at all.

It was the way He did business.

He stared me in the eyes with an intesity that could have lit my brain on fire, had I been guilty of something. I joined the IDF for a reason, not to steal weapons like I had from so many of my other employers, but to do just one simple thing.

Pay to the Lord's nation, what the Lord had paid to me.

"Would you mind telling me where this TANK came from?" Commander Eshtol said to me in an accusing tone. I dared not lie to this man, this was without the one man who could put me so far in the ground I'd never be heard from again.

"I acquired it, sir!" I said in the most unwavering tone I could muster. This man's stature and power in the IDF was terrifying to fathom, and tended to cause weakness in my voice whenever I knew that there was a chance he might not like my answers.

"You acquired it? One does not just acquire a tank, Carey! I want an explanation, now!" He demanded. He had not gotten used yet to the way I ran things. Since my failures as a sniper were extremely well known amongst the regiment, Commander Eshtol decided to make me a supply officer. My duties were to handle all the delivery, documentation and upkeep of our supplies. Food, clothing, and weaponry. I made sure that if somebody needed something yesterday, they had it the day before.

I ran a tight ship, I made sure that all guns and ammo was documented, I took counts after every skirmish. We had ourselves logged down to the last bullet. Nothing got out of my supply chains, but everything that was loose and unclaimed, was sure to get in. When I joined the IDF, I not only brought my willingness to fight for God's chosen people....

I had brought my business with me.

"You see sir, our opposition has this discrepancy with their tanks. Their fuselage's do not like to be filled with certain articles, as it causes a decrease in performance, and eventual shutdown. This is a well known flaw with all gasoline powered assault vehicles. What our opposition does NOT know, is that with a simple maintenance realted procedure, the tanks can be flushed and working like new again" I explained in detail as best I could, I wanted Commander Eshtol to be more curious, so he could continue to ask questions. This would either further delay my punishment, or completely revolutionize how I was able to supply this batallion.

Commander Esthol's eyebrows were raised in interest, "These....articles....what exactly are they?"

I looked at my commander like it was common sense, "Just plain ordinary sugar, sir!"

Sugar was a hot commodity in this part of the region. The batallions were only supplied with so many foodstuffs and various sweetners and spices to add to their meals, sugar was not such a luxury. It was in scarce supply. Commander Eshtol did not enjoy my insinuation.

"Do you mean to tell me that you are using SUGAR to poison the gas tanks of our opposition? Sugar is the one thing we are lowest on supply right now--"

"But commander", I interrupted. I was willing to take the punishment for interruping the commander, because I was sure he would love my explanantion. "The sugar is not from our company, that's the beauty of my plan, sir. I know one of the individuals who supplies our opposition with gasoline for their tanks. Me and him used to be in business together. To pay me back on some "debts" he owes me, I am instructing him to put 1/2 lbs of sugar per every gallon of gas he sells to our opposition."

Commander Eshtol's countenance relaxed as he pondered over the math of 1/2 lb of sugar per gallon of gas. It wasn't enough to completely render the gas useless. Over time, the sugar would eventually clog up the fuel injection systems and render the tank useless.

As Command Eshtol thought over the math, I continued. "You see, sir, over time, the sugar will continue to decrease the performance of their tanks, until they eventually die on them. Our opposition would rather leave the tanks in the desert to rot, since they are useless to them, than have them repaired. With some of the engineers, I have developed a field repair kit that can flush the tank's systems and have it operational in an hour. That gives us plenty of time, to sneak in, repair the tank, and drive it over to our enemy lines. And that sir, is where this tank came from."

I relaxed my stance just slightly and let him ponder over what I had just said. I could tell he liked the idea that I had proposed. All was fair in war to Commander Eshtol, he just wants to know what is happening in his batallion.

Commander Eshtol seemed to breaking from his pondering and looked me square in the eye. "Good job, Gentile. I like the way you work. You in line for promotion if this plan continues to work. You are dismissed" He saluted me, which I returned and then walked away.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but smile. Sticky situations come and go around here, but there hasn't been much I couldn't handle. I've been able to supply my battalion with weapons, ammo, and supplies that are 10 times better than our opposition and twice as good as our neighboring batallions. It was my job to keep this fight going....and why not?

It was my business, after all.

Posted by jquack @ 10:39 pm EDT | Permalink | 2 Comments

and here it is

Posted by jquack @ 10:08 pm EDT | Permalink | 1 Comments

Been spending most my life, living in a gamer's paradise

I'm working on a video project right now. My church's youth group (that I'm a staff member of) is having a special event this Wednesday night. the theme is "old school video game characters". i'm really excited about this one and have put alot of thought into it. We're hosting a video game tournaments where 5 different groups play 5 different games. We're going very old school with an Intellivision, an Atari, a NES, and SNES and an old arcade game played on a Psone.

My video is going to be the intro for the tournament. So I started browsing youtube for any video game scenes to use in a fast paced compilation video (with the Halo 3 teaser trailer music as the background).

As I watched the videos, it blew my mind to see how far we had come as far as video games go. These systems were brand new and "so awesome" in my younger years and now I look back at them with a longing, but not enough of a longing to play it instead of Cod4. not that that's a bad thing. Some things belong in the past and should be only be looked back upon with fondness. although I will admit to buying a few games on the the Wii's VC and enjoyed them way too much (star fox 64 comes to mind)


I just find it so weird that I've seen so much advancement in technology take place. It reminds me of the scene in South park where Cartman freezes himself to go into the future to get the Wii, the problem is he goes SO FAR into the future that the TV's in the future don't support the input for the Wii. I thought it was hilarious (and a bit...ironic?)

That's almost a problem with these intellivisions and Atari's. when I was doing testing for this tournament to determine which games we'd use. We tried to hook up an intellivision to a Vizio 42" HDTV, and it was no go. We found a small 9 in tv and hooked it up to that just to test it. We also had to do the typical "blow into the cartridge to get it to play"

Wow...how technologies change.

Posted by jquack @ 7:25 pm EDT | Permalink | 2 Comments

The Jericho Files #2

You have got to be kidding me"

That was the first thought on my mind while I was staring down the barrell of a shotgun pointed right at my face. The shotgun was unfortunately behind held by my employer, Mr. David Nebins.

Well....I guess we could call him an ex-employer now.

"Cathal......you've got two seconds to explain to me why 10 percent of my warehouse stock is missing, and I better like the answer, or I will turn your face into swiss cheese! "

Now this is what some folks would call a 'predicament'....others would call 'painting yourself into a corner'. Did I take his missing stock from his warehouse? Of course I did. Does he deserve to know? I guess he's inclined to think he does. But the bigger question is why is he so mad? It's not like he did anything with his 'stock' anyway, it just sat in the store collecting dust.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's somebody who doesn't know how to do business. Better tell him when he wants to hear.

 "Wasn't me who took it" I said in a monotone voice, hoping he'd pick up on the fact that I knew more than I was letting on before he decided to  pull on that trigger.

I noticed his finger relax from the trigger. I exhaled a deep breath.

"If it wasn't you, then who was it?" He asked in a rather angry tone.

 "Robbins, sir" I said quickly and forcefully. I didn't need a full name. He knew who Tristian Robbins was.

What he didn't know about Tristian Robbins was that he was my "other" employer in this business. If he never could get me work or didn't want me to do anything for him, Tristian would always have a job for me. And as such, I had a huge sense of loyalty to Tristian. Except for my last job.

Tristan wanted me to steal as much of David's 'goods' as I could for him. Tristan had always not liked something about David....no one really knew why, but he always seemed to take great pride in making David's business suffer. That was where I came in. I was the middle man David didn't know about. In return, I would be paid a handsome 'finder's fee' for my work.

I set it all up to look like someone had broken in and removed the merchandise. I hired hitchhikers to be my manual labor. In exchange for working through the night, they got 50 bucks and a ride into the next county. Complete strangers, and as far as they know, they were hired as movers.

The plan was perfect...well almost perfect. Tristan decided he was going to short me on my 'finder's fee'...which was a big mistake to begin with. If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is someone who doesn't want to spend good money to get a good job done.

And to make things worse, I discovered quickly that Mr. Nebbins' powers of deduction are far more skilled than I give him credit for. He knew that I had something to do with the robbery, he just didn't know what. He was determined he would get the information out of me.

Hence the shotgun in my face.

"Robbins?" David said in disbelief. "That scumbag. I KNEW he was behind this! I'll make he regret the day that he ever crossed my path!" David removed the shotgun from my face and stormed off.

The fact that it was Tristan who robbed him seemed to make him forget all about the fact that I might've been in on the robbery. I watched him as he stormed off and it brought a smile to my face. No one steals from me and doesn't expect some revenge.

I decided that since Tristan was probably quickly on his way to early retirement and taking Mr. Nebbins with him, it was best for me to get out of town. I packed up my things and was out on the next train. In business, things go wrong all the time. There's just one thing to remember.....

There's always more business the next county over.

Posted by jquack @ 11:55 pm EDT | Permalink | 2 Comments

The Jericho Files #1

The Jeircho Files .1

I never really understood him.

I mean, who could? Sitting across from my desk was without a doubt the most cocky and pretentious dirtbag that had even graced my office. I couldn't stand the look of him. His whole style was dirty. His clothes were dirty. His smile was dirty. His HANDSHAKE was dirty.

But the more I stared at him, I asked myself....

Was his money just as dirty?

"I don't know, Mr. Gerrin" I said dryly, trying incredibly hard now to show too much interest. "I'm not exactly sure if you'd 'fit in' in my kind of business" I made sure to stress the "fit in" part of that sentence. I wanted this guy to know he couldn't cut it here.

"What part do I not exactly 'fit in' with, Mr. Jericho?" He answered sarcastically.

I leaned forward slightly and pursed my lips. I was going to keep my cool during this meeting, I had already decided that. This man was already on my bad nerve because of past 'business choices', now he was just being disrespectful.

"Take a look at your last few business deals. You ran 12 meth labs in southeast New Mexico, you would've gotten busted but your trained monkeys ended up taking the fall while you skipped town, with more than enough bail money" I started off, with a sharp tone in my voice. That comment made him scoff.

"Then, after that deal was behind you, you decided to run bags of coke through customs hidden in the carcasses of parrots that were stolen from a taxidermist"  I continued, with a slight elevation in the tone of my voice. This one made him smile, as I can only assume the thought of stuffed parrots was amusing to him.

"As if this wasn't enough, you decided to dump a stash you were carrying down a sewer drain, and ended up poising a small towns water supply" I said with just a hint of anger in my voice. I wanted to make sure my displeasure with this guy's actions was well known.

"Look, I do what I have to do to get the job done. I would've thought that YOU of all people would appreciate what I have to bring to the table." He said remorselessly.

That did it. I slammed my hand on the table and stood up. I leaned over my desk and put my face as close to his as possible. I wanted him to feel the heat that was causing my face to burn with frustration.

"Now look here, you worthless drug peddler. I have NO NEED for anybody in my business like you. I don't care how many times you've ducked the cops, I don't care how much business you've brought to other companies, I DON'T CARE how scared or not scared you are of this business. You are NOT somebody that belongs here. You may not care about what happened yesterday, but when you run drugs, you leave a wake that lasts for the rest of your life."  I said through slightly clenched teeth.

"I don't have space in my business for a drug runner. I don't have the luxury of having blemishes on my reputation. I don't need your business. Go elsewhere" I said in a slightly calmer tone. I sat back down in my chair while the individual across from me tried to remove the shock from his face.

I stared at Mr. Gerrin as he tried to recompose himself and come up with some kinda of excuse. I watched as his expression turned from disbelief to a smug smile, coupled with a sneer. He just didn't want to listen to me.....

"You mean to tell me....that the great Mr. Jericho....wants to put himself on a higher pedestal than me? What makes you so better than? I run drugs...you run guns....big deal. It's business."

I sighed at his lack of vision. I was also thankful, that while he was speaking, he didn't hear the soft click of the safety switch embedded in my desk.

"That's where you're wrong Mr. Gerrin......"

*CLICK*

*SWIP*

The dart from the secret barrel in my desk had hit him square in the arm. I had placed it off center because those who sit across from me are more likely not to even notice the dart coming towards them. The toxins the dart was dipped in weren't fatal, just strong enough to make the target a drooling sack of flesh for awhile.

"You see, Mr. Gerrin...you and I have different philosophies on business. I believe, if you run weapons...it makes you a revolutionary. If you run drugs...it makes you a criminal"

By now, the toxins were starting to spread into his system. I could tell by the shifting of his eyes in a panicked state. The toxin was designed to incite the feeling of tightness in the chest. Similar to a heart attack, but more acute so as to cause alarm in the individual. But as soon as they realise what is happening in their chest, their extremities have gone numb. This only increses their panic. As the toxins spread, all they can do is sit still and pray that someone notices their plight and calls 911 or gets a doctor.

In Mr. Gerrin's case, no one called 911. I was the only one in that office besides him...why would I possibly call 911 since I was the one who gave him the toxin to begin with? No...I believe I'll let him sit there and stew in his own panic. The final phase of the toxin only takes a few more seconds. The toxin will begin to fool his mind into thinking he's losing oxygen, causing him to pass out. 25 seconds after the dart shot, Mr. Gerrin was completely docile.

"And I have no place in my business for criminals...I prefer to let the cops deal with them" I said with satisfaction in my voice. I got up from my chair to closely examine Mr. Gerrin. His body was completely limp.

This brings a smile to my face. Nobody tells me how I should run my business. Better end this conflict right.

I picked up my phone and used my #1 speed-dial. Always the most important.

"This is Jericho, get in here, I have some cleanup that needs to be done"

Excellent, my cohort will take Mr. Gerrin's body to a location, then contact the authorities to tip them off to Mr. Gerrin's whereabouts. They'll arrest him and we'll have one less drug runner on my hands.

I love my job.

Posted by jquack @ 8:55 pm EDT | Permalink | 1 Comments