CYCLONE RANGERS HEADQUARTERS. March 17, 2003
As long as I live, I shall not easily forget the events that unfolded almost four years ago when my compatriots, the Cyclone Rangers, crossed swords with my nemesis, Nigel Punctuation, the self-proclaimed “Doctor ?”. An ocean or two has flowed beneath the bridge of life since those days, and our individual lives have changed substantially.
Keltic Tommy has since married and become a proud father. Reverend Bryian has since divorced, and become a member of the local High-Tech Crime division of law enforcement. Tomcat continues in his almost hermit-like bachelorhood, a little grayer, (“more distinguished,” as he puts it,) a lot more experienced, but just as inquisitive and sly as ever. Daniel, (known in those days by several monikers including “Daniel the Younger,” “Other Daniel” and finally “Daniel” when it was determined that they would refer to me as “Dan” or “Fish” to prevent confusion,) was a budding Cyclone Ranger, fresh from his internship as a Rough Rider, and ready to prove his worth. Today he is a trusted friend and colleague who has gone on to serve our country more officially as a member of the U.S. Army. His Majesty, Tiny has since passed into the great unknown, and is missed by those whose lives he touched. I myself have also married and have settled into an academic position where I am teaching Zen Video production to the next generation of B-Roll acolytes.
So as you might guess, true believer, the story I am about to relay to you has a happy ending. But I remember the fear that gripped my heart as the following events unfolded. It is only by shear luck, and the skill of my trusted teammates that we managed to survive at all.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, talking about the end before I even begin. We begin just down the hall and down the stairs from where I write this now; in the rec room of Ranger Headquarters, in front of the television…