What caught me was the utter silence in the place. I wasn’t hearing voices yelling, I wasn’t hearing guns being shot or people tripping or passing out or anything like that. So where was everybody? I walked around the obstacle and was immediately faced with my friend Graham. He was kneeling on the ground, shaking his rifle and smacking it soundly behind the trigger.
“Graham.” I whispered to him anxiously. He looked up. “Where is everybody?”
“Dude, where were you? Didn’t you notice? They had all of our guns rigged to jam, so that we had to fix ‘em. Today’s Troubleshooting day, remember?”
An almost electric shock of pain shot up my left leg at that moment, and I spun around to see the biggest, meanest guy in class pointing his gun at me.
“Ahh! I missed. I must not have done this thing right.”
As I just said, Bill, the guy pointing the gun at my leg, was the biggest, meanest kid at the school. The dumb lunk must have done something wrong while trying to fix his gun, because he had aimed the shot at my head, and it had impacted right above my ankle. Knowing that my gun was still jammed, I turned and ran off while he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong. Bill followed me. I guess he wanted revenge or something.
Oh wait. I didn’t tell you yet, did I? Well, here’s the thing. I made a rather derogatory comment towards Bill’s intelligence (or lack thereof) the other day, and, like they say, an elephant never forgets. So Bill was still pretty fumed at me, and that is presumably why he shot me and not Graham. And now he was following me.
Realizing that I had to hide and give myself time to get Bill off my trail, I darted up a flight of stairs and into another of my little hidey-holes behind a metal wall. I figured that that move would totally confuse him and get him away from me, so I settled down to take a look at this gun that I had no idea how to fix. I started doing what I saw Graham doing, pounding the butt of the gun, when suddenly the metal flap that acted as my door was ripped clean off. Startled, I scooted back further into the hole as Bill poked his big meaty head in.
“Hey Rob,” the big lunk said. “Do you wanna take back what you said about me being as dumb as a Class 5 Droid?”
Ever the comedian, I felt the need to hold my ground and stick next to whatever trouble my mouth got me into.
“Uh, no,” I replied snarkily, “I’m actually demoting you to Class 6.”
Bill let out a snarl and shoved his gun into my chest. After a moment of hesitation, the pulse inside the gun shot through me, and the pain of being shot at such a close range was overwhelming. I actually passed out. The next thing I remember seeing was the disapproving face of Professor Gottlob and the school nurse, Miss Pepper. I was on some kind of soft hospital bed. I was in those rags that they gave the patients, and then I felt weird because I figured someone had to have changed me into those rags.
“Robert, Robert, Robert. You have to stop this bad behavior of yours.” That was Professor Gottlob, I think. His voice was still kind of distorted in my head. “Sleeping in class…especially on Troubleshooting Day. Everyone knows that we do the whole ‘fixing a broken gun’ drill.”
“Well, apparently, I didn’t.”
“Robert, I think that because of recent events, you’d belong in a…different school of learning.”
“A different school? You’re not gonna send me to the science university, are you?”
Gottlob laughed. “Oh no, nothing quite like that. Robert, you are excellent with firing a gun, you have a great intelligence, and you are clever as well.” Here Gottlob paused, presumably for dramatic effect. What he had to say next was big. “We would like you join the forces of PIT, Peta Intelligence Technology. You’ve probably never heard of them, but-“
“Never heard of them?!” I screamed. “I’ve read all about them in the novels. They’re like the secret agents of the whole Peta operation. Why would you want me to join them? I’m nothing special.”
“Well, the PIT agents obviously see something in you, and they want you to start enrolling in training courses right away.”
“Well, the PIT agents obviously see something in you, and they want you to start enrolling in training courses right away.”
And that, my friends, is how my life was transformed from a dim, miserable one into a great romantic one full of adventure and awesomeness. I excelled at all of my classes, and later, when I was in the field, I was given several awards for bravery and valor. But that’s a completely different story…
Again, changing Peta to a different "P" word would be ideal.
ReplyDeleteBut I do like the idea of PIT...although to me, they seem to be more like the Q Branch in James Bond; the guys that come up with the great gadgets and technology that the agents use in the field.
Perhaps you could make Robert one of the PITBULLS, a division of PIT that the agents who use PIT are called...Peta Intelligence Technology for Bellipotent Undercover Lethal License Spies.
And don't forget the Advanced Reconnaissance Maneuvers using Peta Intelligence Technology...otherwise known as A.R.M.P.I.T. :)
But really, it's a good story idea, but I must admit I have a problem with the premise as presented. Obviously, I know this is a very short treatment and is not fully fleshed out.
But if you ever decided to write this one out in full, you might want to change the events in the Battle box somewhat. If Robert is being considered by PIT to join their elite ranks, Robert needs to be able to handle himself against Bill. Yes, Bill may be bigger than Robert, but Robert is smarter than Bill and needs to find a way to either disarm Bill or fix his own gun or something...something clever that proves to PIT that Robert is worthy and ready to join their ranks.