extension of the state. 

Reaching for his weapon, he paused for one last look in the mirror. As he prepared to walk out the door, Roger asked himself, with a broad smile, who is like us? Who can possibly stop us? He knew of nobody else. He was the new American hero.

Roger was greeted with a vibrant gust of wind, a refreshing way to begin any weekday. Unlike the mornings of summer, the early hours of March in Texas often proved to be cool and crisp beneficiaries of northern winds. Stepping from the door and seeing his first deep breath fly out of his chest, the detective again reminded himself to invest in an overcoat someday. Weathermen often repeated the tired cliché about “old man winter’s last gasp”, but in reality, it was more like old man winter’s final offensive. 

If there is a good thing about the cold, though, it’s that people don’t want to stop and talk. In fact, it’s generally very peaceful. No idle chatter, no idiotic charades, and no distractions. The only sounds Roger Andrews could hear were the dull thuds of his black boots against the parking garage concrete. As the world prepared themselves for work or school, the SD man quietly made his way to his car. After a quick adjustment of the mirrors, and a check of the hairline, he placed his right thumb on the new dash-mounted
biometric scanner, and the sleek black sedan roared to life. 

Flipping on the news as he exited the reinforced double gates of his complex, the detective began the short journey to the station. “The fighting on the Korean peninsula intensified toady, as coalition forces exchanged heavy gunfire on the outskirts of Sonjin. While the European Union and the United Nations have urged Pyongyang to surrender peacefully, Kim Jong Il has apparently barricaded himself within the intricate bunker confines of the North’s capital.” The newsman read wildly, as if he was on the frontlines himself. With the advent of the satellite backpack that wasn’t an impossible feat, but this guy was certainly not one of the souls who filmed the action in Iraq, Iran, or even the destruction of Damascus. Probably another hair spray desk jockey reading a script from the studio. Those were always the worst. 

Nearing HQ, Andrews took a left towards downtown and noticed how clean and orderly the streets had become…a great departure from the times of the Middle East conflicts a few years ago. Those were the days when protests shut down cities, inflamed public opinion, and generally wreaked havoc all across North America. Fortunately for the nation, the local and state governments woke up and made moves to prevent such outbursts from happening. By first making protesters of the war
apply for permits and pay for police overtime, and later arresting and imprisoning the trouble making scum, the government did it’s part to keep the country safe. Most of the bums and extremists got the message. Those who continued to resist were shipped away to work camps. Roger had to shake his head. It’s too bad it can’t be that easy all the time.

The mood of the station was frenzied, as usual. It always reminded the detective of the scenes from the trading floor on Wall Street, with administrators rushing to provide detectives their latest assignments, reporters supplying the latest information to administrators, and officers readying themselves for another day of patrol. As Roger sat down to check his email, one of the elder members of the madhouse approached the young detective from behind. “Good morning, Rodge. Word is you’ve got a hot case today.” The man leered from the corner of his eyes with the look of the enlightened. He loved doing that. Of course, after 23 years of federal detective work under his belt, Mike Prinze probably deserved to. 

The gray haired man tossed Roger the dossier on his new case. The files landed with a substantial thud on his desk. Not bothering to look at the name, he simply let out an extended sigh. “Why is it that I get all the deadbeats?” 

“You know, you ask yourself that once, and all of the sudden, twenty years get by you.” The cagey veteran mused. Detective Andrews didn’t find the thought to be comforting one, and, as he began a witty retort, Mike leaned in and whispered, “I’d take a closer look if I were you”. Seeing the leer return, Andrews surmised what the big production was really all about, and opened the file.

She was gorgeous. The high-resolution digital snaps proved this, showing her at the grocery store, mall, and various other innocuous spots in the city. Roger recognized her from the community exercise facility near his complex. He began tearing through the
stack of information. The files said it all. Height, weight, date of birth, credit card purchases, library and phone records, bank statements, voting/education records…it was her life story right in front of him. 

Perusing through the bundle, he began to see a pattern developing. It was scant, but it was certainly there. Purchases of books about the old constitution, accounts of anti-government speech, and visitations of renegade websites. A history of outspoken behavior throughout school and early employment, including notes from several school counselors, and most importantly, documented contact with 3 major anarchist groups. It was obvious she was a thought criminal, possibly with contacts reaching deep into the so-called resistance movement. Someone high up in the Department must like me. This was a case that could make a career. This was the chance to smash the last vestiges of the old, inefficient America. As the thoughts raced through his head, Roger at last realized he was finally going to take on the terrorists. He couldn’t wait. It was time to defend the Homeland.
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Roger Andrews: The New American Hero - Part II

By Kevin Newsom

As he dressed, he admired himself in the mirror. The new black and gray uniforms were certainly very handsome. Very handsome, indeed. He loved the power it gave to him. He loved the feeling he got when people stepped out of his way on the street, in restaurants, clubs, and bars. He loved the looks he got from young women. He loved the power. It was the only recognizable and tangible power that remained in the world, the power of the state. And by wearing the uniform, he had established himself as an
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