The setting is Las Vegas, Nevada, on the outskirts. A French-American multimillionaire
was playing cards with a friend. He was extremely concerned. For a period of time now, his stocks that he had all of his money
invested in had been undergoing major problems. The companies had been investigated and were found corrupt, and as a result
they had all been plummeting at a critical rate. But today was the worst of all. His stocks were said to have gone almost
totally bankrupt. If they did, he would lose his entire fortune.
One of the butlers ran in. "Brent Williams, sir," he
said quickly, "reports say the stocks are dropping even more quickly than before."
"Is there anything we can do?" Brent said frantically,
his usually relatively calm manner on the verge of complete panic.
"Nothing, sir. Unless you take out what little you
have left right now," the butler said.
"Never. I refuse to believe I'm being brought down
like this," he said. But beginning to crumble, quickly said, "Oh, all right, take the money out!"
Another butler ran in and handed him a slip of paper.
The butler quickly read it. "Too late, sir. Your stocks have gone completely bankrupt! You are broke, sir!" the butler said.
"Oh... and also..." He glanced at the memo. "Government officials will be here any minute to take your things, sir."
Literally one minute later, five men dressed in all
black came in, grabbed Brent, his friend, and all the servants, and walked them downstairs and outside. Brent's mansion glimmered
in the moonlight. He was speechless that that mansion was his just a second ago, and now he was evicted from it. The men led
them all outside the gates.
"Jesus. Does this normally happen so fast?" Brent's
friend asked.
"No..." Brent said, barely forming the words. "This
can't have happened; I must have been set up."
"I guess we won't be getting our paycheck this week,"
one of the butlers said snidely. Brent ignored the comment; he felt decidedly sick. Numbly, he walked up to the gates, slammed
his face against the bars and began to silently cry. The butlers and his friend all began to make their way towards the city,
leaving Brent alone.
"Father. I have failed you!" Brent cried out.
"Get outta here. You don't get this place back until
you can pay for it," one of the government officials yelled to him.
Brent, almost completely unaware of his surroundings,
wandered towards downtown Las Vegas. Many people looked startled to see him walking when they saw him along the way. After
walking ten miles, he reached town. He was waiting to cross a street at a corner, in hopes of finding a place to sit and eat.
His eyes fell upon a sign nailed to a post. It read:
UB MILITARY AERIAL FORCE TRYOUTS
WE WANT YOU TO COME TRY RIGHT NOW!
Note: You must be at least 18 years of age or older,
with some combat experience. No resume or personal record required. Only males, please. It's up to YOU to find us.
"Ub Military tryouts, eh?" Brent said to himself, a chain of ideas sparking
in his mind. "I served in the local aerial force a few years back. I'm 22. And no paperwork needed? Well, I might as well
try!"
He decided to make his way to the Rocky Mountains in
order to retrieve one of his last remaining possessions: an all-terrain vehicle, stored away in a vault in a mountain. From
there, he could reach Ub, Texas, which he had heard of before, to try out! No longer feeling despondent, he headed to the
train station.
