Fiction: At the Finish Line

“So, Agent XR9 – or should I call you Major Arthur Shining? – you have found my final lair, my sanctum sanctorum, and defeated all my henchmen. I am defenseless … except for my attack robot!”

“Oh, please, Dr. Baddar; we both know that pile of nuts and bolts is worthless.”

Dr. Baddar aimed a remote control at the robot and pressed the activation sequence anyway. The silver robot, six feet tall, three feet wide, and designed with lots of odd, sharp angles, lurched toward XR9. It waved its arms menacingly and made a mechanical growling sound. XR9 watched idly as it slowly drew closer.

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Fiction: The Tavern

He was a good-looking man, and young; only the limp and the cane explained why he wasn’t in uniform.

He carefully maneuvered himself between a few tables and hitched himself up on a barstool. “Lager, bitte,” he told the barmaid.

She drew his beer and set it in front of him. “So where are you from, mein Herr, and what brings you to our little village?”

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