Pax Romana, City of Angels

Work in progress.  Firstly this is a (very) rough draft.  Secondly 99% of this hasn't been written yet.  In other words I intend for this to be a full-length book.  I already have tons of plans for what will happen after the introduction, but I'd like some feedback for what little I've written so far.

 

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.
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History often repeats itself

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

but not through pop-culture references.

*******************

 

“You never told me who dad was.”

“Because 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’s some things you shouldn’t know.”

“Remember what happened when I was 4?  When those thugs robbed us of
everything we had while you weren’t home and I tried to fight back only
to be almost killed and blinded of my right eye?  Were it not for the
LAPD rescuing me I’d probably be dead.  There’s nothing from before I
was born that can be worse than what’s actually happened to me.”

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

“Oh come on.  At the very least you can tell me what he looked like.”

“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.”

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

“That’s because they can’t be bothered.  If we were from Beverly
Hills instead of believably homeless he’d be found in less than a week.”

*****************************

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 olive skin, dark brown hair and green 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 were particularly 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 was able to work as a
bodyguard or defense instructor to typical Nerdy Energetic Rich Fuckers,
or NERFs 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.

*********

 

September 12, 2001

 

“Bastards, how ignorant can people be?”

“What happened to my son today is inexecusable, but as you get older
you’ll learn that’s how people are.  When they get angry and frustrated,
they have to take it out on someone to give themselves a sense of
justice.”

“Your son didn’t have a damn thing to do with yesterday’s events. 
He’s a 10 year old boy like me, only far more innocent and harmless.”

“Unfortunately that doesn’t matter.  He’s Muslim and has an Iranian
father, which is enough.  You’ve been his good friend since you met him
in the first grade.  For this I thank you.  But don’t even think about
vigilante justice which would only get you both in trouble.”

“Oh, I can’t get in any more fights for the rest of the year or
they’ll expel me.  But you should enroll him in some self-defense
classes so at least it won’t happen again.”

“That’s actually a good idea.”

“Here’s an even better one:  I really want to make some money and
maybe your son would like additional private lessons.  I’m not a black
belt, but being purple I’m only four marks away.”

“The only problem is what I’m afraid you spend your money on.  You have a good heart but also some… reputation.”

“What kinds of things have I bought that worry you?”

“You bought the porno ‘American Pie’ and took it to your school,
putting it in the VHS player while the teacher was out of the room.  My
son tells me about you.”

“Apparently he doesn’t tell you enough.  I would buy real porn, not
some soft-core comedy like American Pie.  I stole that from the
Blockbuster close to your house.  But what I plan to buy now isn’t that
bad, just a ticket to see Linkin Park.”

“Who are they?”

“A local band.  They’re probably the hottest new group in LA right now and when you hear them it’s not much wonder why.”

“Then we have a deal.  But only if I buy the ticket myself.  I can’t
trust giving you cash.  And I’ll probably have to even accompany you to
that concert because of your age, but that’s ok; they make that rule to
keep kids like you out of trouble.”

 

 

 

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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 Greogorian 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 miniscule reward.

“Rumor has it they will take us to Britannia.  Supposedly our presence there is lacking and the province is in rebellion.”

“It makes no difference where we end up, although Britannia is hardly
the only province in revolt.  Judea is as well, and Germania is getting
attacked with barbarian assaults from the east.  My only preference is
peace.”

“So why do you wish to be a soldier?”

“I don’t.  The only advantage is earning more coin than farming, and retiring sooner.”

“You haven’t even started your adult life and you’re already concerned with retirement?”

“You say this as if I have so many choices.  Every choice is a
luxury, and I’ve had few of those to begin with.  I would never be a
soldier given I could have been some other profession, such as merchant
or blacksmith.  But trades are passed from father to son and I’ve no
connections.  Besides, you know we will be drafted so even if we came up
with something it would make no difference.”

*********

November 15, 32 AD

“From where you all have come, the progress and polish you’ve
accomplished in 6 short months is truly remarkable.  With backgrounds
that couldn’t be more diverse, your only common factor was lack of
knowledge and direction.  Now the reverse is true; you are one, one
which fight alike.  Sleep and wake alike.  March alike.  And most
importantly, think alike.

 

“You will be serving in the Ludaea 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.

 

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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 that sacks like Rocky
Balboa.”

“Pokemon never die, they just faint.”

“What?  That’s even worse.”