Since My Acquisition of the United States

By David Ralls jr.

Holy lander Sir becomes THE NEW SPURIOUS OWNER OF THE UNITED STATES along with the burden of removing the wealthy and powerful, previous owners, the Monarch Brothers. Realizing he is not the only one claiming ownership to the United States, Sir establishes a shadow government and army inside of America built on seven laws. These laws were created by a powerful British family (The Kingdom family) and the British Government to protect Sir, allowing him to rob, kill and extort enemies domestic and foreign to help financially facilitate his Shadow Government and Army along with his financial obligation to the Kingdom Family and the British. On the hunt for cash, Sir assembles four elite soldiers "THE STATUTES OF LIBERTY '' out of the army he created. These four soldiers will carry out Sir's dangerous missions all over the world and protect him directly from his enemies of the past, present and future as the new owner of the United States.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098339142

Book preview

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 9781098339142

THIS BOOK CONTAINS

VIOLENCE,

STRONG LANGUAGE,

NUDITY,

GRAPHIC SCENES.

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE – A SECRET COMMEMORATION

CHAPTER TWO - THE MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

CHAPTER THREE – YOU NEED A CLEAN KILL

CHAPTER FOUR – THE ACQUISITION

CHAPTER FIVE – THE STATUTES OF LIBERTY

CHAPTER SIX - THE BIG LIE

CHAPTER SEVEN - WHO’S REALLY PATRIOTIC

CHAPTER EIGHT – DANGER

CHAPTER NINE – ASAP

CHAPTER TEN – CHASING THE GHOST

"A DECLARATION FROM THE NEW OWNER OF THE UNITED STATES.

ARE WE SAFE??

Since my acquisition of the United States, I have been called many names by those who were fans and enemies. I would like to share with you. The names were harsh but befitting to the mischief I have caused thus far as the new owner of this great country. The New Global Devil, Illuminati, The Revenant! However, the name I enjoyed most, or should I say, summed up my activities yet far from what I’ve accomplished was, Mass Murderer. Killing has always been my theology on obtaining a wealthy and prosperous life. Still, wealth should not force you into buying a bankrupt country as I did. It just simply means in order to establish your position in life, you might need to kill someone. This position will make the world fear your existence. While your privilege with money, power, and the road to a glorious death. Speaking of death if your reading this Declaration, one or two things have happened to me. I have joined my biological and adopted family along with our treacherous history into a glorious death. My legend. The greatest human being to walk the face of the earth, fearing nothing but time and my own rebellion. A mass murderer who was double-crossed by the British, but still held in high regards. Their philosophies on how to dominate, control, and rule the world the British way. Or maybe I survived, all the death wishes placed upon me by my enemies! Just to protect ungrateful people living in this over-priced country, that showed disrespect to themselves and the world.

As I said to you in the beginning, my acquisition was the United States of America. My shadow government and army will be known as the Statutes of Liberty of the United States. "We Rob, Extort and Kill to Protect this Country, the People and my Acquisition." What will you do? ARE WE SAFE?????

PART ONE 

CHAPTER ONE   

A SECRET COMMEMORATION

The clear night sky seemed to glitter a certain elegant dalliance in the twilight between light and dark: the brilliant appearance of the stars seeming all too propitiously fitting for the events taking place beneath them. The Kingdom family’s annual St. Andrew’s Day celebration was just beginning. The guests, while trying to remain dignified, were quickly—yet fashionably—dashing to the entrance to get out of the biting cold of the November air. The air cut the skin with an unusual sting (as if literally jealous of the night’s dealings that were to come).

The Kingdom family over the years had become the financial power behind the union of countries known as the New United Kingdom (NUK). This family (because of its monetary influence and ruthless history over Europe) gave this union of countries its last name and, let us say, its full voice. Despite the speculation surrounding the Kingdom family’s 19th-century sizable indulgence in the slave trade and country-conquering, the powerful and elite of Europe had always looked forward every year to receiving their invitation to this historical celebration hosted at the Kingdom Estate. It was—without question—the most elegant and anticipated affair of the year. The Kingdom Estate was a STUNNING 250,000-square-foot castle and terrestrial situated in the rugged highland region of Scotland’s mountainous terrain. Known for its intricate stonemasonry that surrounded it, rivaled that of any Royal estate in Scotland or the United Kingdom. The grounds boasted a custom water fountain bearing the Kingdom name, manicured lawns, and tall trees trimmed to perfection, which surrounded the perimeter, adding yet another layer of sumptuous opacity. The lights that lined the cobblestone driveway created a vision of radiance even in the light fog. The mountain-sized steel double doors resembled those of an 18th-century European castle. The diamond-encrusted chandelier that welcomed all into the foyer brought a sense of worldliness to the entrance. Tigerwood and mink-tapestry-woven throw rugs combed the inside floors of the main hall, while the recessed lighting gave a charming, but bitter romance to the rooms, lined with the works of Gaugin, Cezanne, and Picasso. 

As the arriving attendees were announced, two special guests who asked that their names be removed from the invitation list, were upstairs fidgeting, their respective skins growing moist as the two sat chatting on a small reddish velvet couch in a lounge area. These two gentlemen, unyielding to the celebration below, were now exactly one hour away from participating in a SECRET COMMEMORATION of acquirement that would change the face of the world, almost literally. The first gentleman, Ali Papa Kahn, the oldest of the two, was a 77-year-old Austrian native, the leader of an army of secret assassins employed by the British. (The Red Sea Army.) Papa Kahn was one of the most feared men in the world. Although he had never seen the inside of a prison cell, authorities believed he was responsible for numerous diplomatic murders or extinguishments all over the world on behalf of the British. Papa Kahn and his army single-handedly helped the British conquer most of the countries across the globe. It was even rumored that many of those murders Papa Kahn handled personally in fastidious care as if evaporating them in a single breath; and it only took one such breath for any foe to be named and marked for death. If Kahn were to say your name, the story goes, you only had to wonder what meticulous measures he may take to destroy you, leaving the question of how many days or hours you had left to survive.

Papa Khan was flicking and toggling a switchblade in his hand, cutting himself and licking the blood from his palm—a ritual he had performed over the years for almost every meeting he attended with the British. He then pulled a revolver from his waistband, took a bullet resting from under his tongue, placed it in the revolver, spun the barrel, stuck the gun to his head, smiled, and pulled the trigger; the gun barrel rotated, but didn’t discharge.

Papa Kahn frowned, shook his head, and placed the gun back in his waistband. During Papa Kahn’s ritual death wish, servants from the kitchen carrying trays of food and drinks were greatly impressed by his aura. The servers began to pay reverence to him by walking over, bowing, and kissing his hand. Each patron exhibited a stoic yet ostensible tremble as they grasped his hand and kissed his pinky ring: a mixed fire opal conspicuously stained with the blood of Khan’s enemies. The second gentleman, Holy-lander Sir, was a 53-year-old Austrian native, Papa Kahn’s adopted son. Sir was a mass murderer, and the general of Papa’s Red Sea Army. Under Sir’s superintendence, the Red Sea Army has managed to kill well over 16,000 people for the British.

Son, if your parents were alive today, they would be very proud of what you’re about to accomplish.

Papa Kahn’s words brought unrestrained, immediate tears to Sir’s eyes as he began to think about his past and growing up with and without his parents.

THE PAST

Sir’s father, Assure, was dressed in a military uniform and busy working in the backyard. Peering through the window of their house, young Sir realized Assure was setting up a bullseye for the lad to shoot. Sir walked curiously into the yard to his father, who stood in front of a table with an assault rifle and bow and arrow in plain view. Sir picked up the assault rifle, shot at the bullseye, but missed the target. Sir’s father smacked him swiftly on the cheek, causing blood to dribble from Sir’s bottom lip. Assure then placed a handgun that was seated on his hip holster to Sir’s head. He spun the barrel and pulled the trigger. Sir did not flinch as the gun’s barrel rotated but did not discharge. The two moved on to hand-to-hand combat, and Sir and his father battled until Sir was completely bloody, winded, and crestfallen, which disturbed his father greatly.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

The father and son sat down to discuss the day’s training. 

Son, in war you must fight to the death, you understand? Sir’s father sternly demanded rather than questioned.

Sir nodded his head in agreement as he listened intently to his father’s words. 

One hour later

Sir’s father was driving through the humongous gates of the Red Sea military base; whose words canvased the gates like an enormous billboard. Sir’s father got out of his truck, walked over with a measured, metronomic saunter to a platoon of soldiers, and saluted them as they prepared for their mission. He then walked into an office to talk logistics with his commander and best friend a young Ali Papa Kahn. Sir’s father saluted Papa Kahn and a few other soldiers inside the room, who were looking over maps and strategizing.

Commander Kahn, if we send troops north and south of this peninsula, we can ambush them on both sides. They won’t know what hit them, said Assure.

Let’s do it. Kill everyone! I’m tired of this war. It’s not worth the fucking pennies the British are paying us! 

TWO DAYS LATER

Sir’s father and a few soldiers were sitting in a bunker. Sir’s father, binoculars resting on his thick, war-hardened, surgically repaired C1 vertebrae, watched enemy soldiers load weapons on a truck. Just then, a monstrous BLAAM reverberated from the bunker, killing everyone inside.

HOURS LATER

Ali Papa Kahn was knocking at Sir’s door with a priest and two soldiers. Sir and his mother—both with tears welling and conspicuously resting inside their bottom inner eyelashes—answered the door.

Maria, I’m sorry to visit under these circumstances, but your husband—my best friend and general—was killed in the line of duty. A gray clay seemed to envelope Papa Khan’s face.

After receiving the news, Sir’s mother wept and walked away from Papa Kahn, who was still at the door. Sir, with tears welling up in his eyes, gave Papa Kahn a blank stare as he continued to stand in a stoic, cool silence.

The next day

Sir’s mother sat in her bedroom, a deep, yet colorless, zombie-like pallor washed over her face. She reached in one of her drawers for her small, purse-sized, black handgun. She glanced at it, as visions of her husband dead on the battlefield blew through her in the wildest of chills she ever felt. The tears pulled themselves out of her eyes in what was a slow, defiant, fuck-you, feeling. Her hands, feet, and finally her chest went completely numb. Sir’s mother placed the pistol to her head and pulled the trigger. The one gunshot to her head left brain fragments all over her lifeless body as she fell back on the bed. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, while blood slowly eased out of her mouth. She was dead.

Sir, who was playing in the living room, heard the gunshot and ran into his mother’s bedroom to find her lifeless body lying on the bed. He screamed.

Mom! No! Please! Don’t leave me! Sir cried out to his mother’s now expired body.

Sir cleaved and hugged his mother’s lifeless body. He then let go of her, and removed the gun from her hand, placed it to his head. And pulled the trigger. The barrel of the gun rotated but did not discharge.

A few days later

Sir was dressed in a suit sitting between two coffins at a funeral parlor that had his parents resting in them. Sir cried as he paid a sizable sum of cash to the funeral director who walked over and closed both caskets, then immediately walked away.

A few hours later

The funeral repast at Sir’s house for both parents was celebrated in Austria like a holiday. Ordinary people, dignitaries, and Red Sea soldiers lined up in single file to walk into Sir’s house to pay their respects. Some brought food, money, gifts in what seemed a genuine spirit of condolence for the seven-year-old boy, who had just lost both of his parents to tragic ends.

Sir just sat in the near right corner of his parents’ study, quiet, unemotional, surrounded by Red Sea soldiers who were monitoring all the guests approaching Sir to pay their respects. Sir smiled a little but listened especially closely to a few of the Red Sea soldiers who described the glorious victories and wars exemplified by his father’s skills and bravery. Suddenly, the crowd began to part and bow their heads as Papa Khan and two soldiers walked through the crowd of mourners. Papa Kahn and the two soldiers swiftly gripped a man up in a suit who had been waiting in line. 

The two soldiers hooked the man by both of his arms and dragged him away from the mourners outside. Papa Kahn then reached for his signature gun and shot the man in the center of his forehead with a single shot. Papa, then gave instructions to the soldiers.

I want you two to dispose of this traitor’s body and kill his family. I also want you to find out who from the Sea was involved, then kill them. No one is going to kill my childhood friend and get away with it, said Papa Kahn."

Yes, Commander, as you wish, said the soldiers in near unison. 

The soldiers walked away dragging the dead body to a truck, they placed the body in the back of the truck and pulled off. Papa Kahn returned inside Sir’s house walked over to Sir, hugged, and kissed him. The two walked away.

MOMENTS LATER:

Sir sat with Papa Kahn inside his deceased parents’ bedroom where the two began talking. 

Sir I want you to understand your father gave his life to protect this family, without his killings, there would be no Red Sea Army or respect from the British.

Sir just stared listlessly at Papa Kahn and continued to listen.

"He made me put a serious amount of money aside for you and your mother if such a thing as this were to happen, but since your mother decided to join him. The money and the estate are yours. 

Sir continued to stare at Papa Kahn, then said something very unusual for a seven-year-old boy.

I want to know who’s responsible for my father’s death and when will they meet the same providence.

Papa Khan gave Sir a mischievous grin before he responded. 

The man, I roughly escorted out of your house a few minutes ago has just met the same fate, a few of our own will follow, said Papa Kahn. 

Sir nodded his head to Papa Khan.

Holy lander, I promised your parents, I would provide and care for you if anything happened to them, so, I’ve decided to adopt you as my son. (Sir smiled and touched his heart.)

Papa Kahn, I am grateful to now be a part of your family, says Sir. 

(The two smiled and hugged)

TWO DAYS LATER: Sir arrived at Papa Kahn’s mansion to be introduced to Papa Khan’s family. 

Holy lander, I want you to meet my loving and devoted wife Katherine Kahn and my only son Ali Khan Jr, who is exactly your age. (Sir extended his hand to meet Katherine Kahn and Kahn Jr.) 

It’s a pleasure to meet you both, I love you for taking me in, squealed Sir gleefully. 

Holy lander, you are very welcome, you can call me Mom! Holy lander we’ve given you your own private quarters just like at your house! We’ve brought most of your clothes, toys and belongings, whatever you don’t have we will buy, says Katherine. 

"Thank you very much, Mom, said Sir. (This time a tear rolled down Sir’s right cheek.)

Sir’s words brought tears to Katherines and Papa Khan’s eyes. 

Now, I finally have the brother, I never had, exclaimed Kahn Jr. "

BACK TO THE PRESENT.

I miss my parents so much!

Papa and Sir both had tears rolling down their faces.

"You know, Papa I want to thank you so much for adopting me. You made my life great!

Son, It was an honor to do so, your father would have done the same for me. I owe him my life.

Papa, there’s one thing, I’ve been meaning to ask you for the longest time?

"What is it Son?

"Did you force the instructor in Boot Camp to pass me and JR?

"Absolutely not, I argued the facts on both you and Kahn Jr’s behalf, let’s face it. You two survived the Purge and the Frozen Rats’ ‘.

THE PAST 1954 RED SEA BOOT CAMP

In 1954, Kahn Jr and Sir, who both shared the same birthdays, were now 16 years of age and ready to become a part of the secret life, which defined Papa Kahn’s Red Sea Army in Austria. Papa Kahn who would soon become their commander and chief was very enthusiastic and optimistic about revealing to his two sons, his world of mass murder and treachery. A skillful trade he adopted courtesy of the British, which made him globally feared and super wealthy. Ten days following their birthdays, Papa brought Sir and Jr, to his notorious Boot camp for a special night he provides to his prisoners every year. Besides that, Papa wanted his two sons to get a feel for the camp, considering they were one year away from joining. The trio along with Papa Kahn’s general Creature, were all wearing Red Sea military uniforms as they drove up to the gates of the Boot Camp in Papa Kahn’s military truck. The guard on the tower caught vision of them and immediately opened the gate to let the four of them pass through. Sir and Jr were both given handguns by Creature for their own protection. Papa’s Bootcamp was fifthly and barbaric with minimum electricity and running water. It was 3000 acres of treacherous terrain and dangerous obstacle courses filled with gruesome animals. Papa Kahn divided this massive land to serve him in two capacities, of course, the obvious reason was his legendary Bootcamp that provided superior training to his new recruits and veteran soldiers. The second was his personal prison. Two long blocks of steel cages and bars, in the resemblance of prison blocks that stretch at least two miles. These cages on both sides of the block housed one thousand prisoners. The cells inside were very dingy with wall torches for lights grass and cement combined was the floor surface, a block of concrete shaped in the form of a bed and a pillow was sleeping condition. Each cage had a humongous padlock with a keyhole. Three times a day under heavy supervision these prisoners were given access to the key and the padlock allowing them to hunt for food. These prisoners could hunt animals and sometimes their own cellmates depending on the severity of their hunger. Papa’s rule of thumb! Stated! While hunting for a meal make sure you lock your cell. To avoid becoming a casualty or a meal courtesy of the wild. Traditional animals of the wild, did not frighten or matter too much to the prisoners. Their horror came in the form of the frozen rats, which had become an epidemic on this side of the terrain. Thanks to Papa Khan and his mad scientists, who developed this illegal population by mating a female Chinchilla and a male rat. Born ugly and uncommon with a unique set of skills. These rats adopted the frozen part of their name, because of their ability to only mate and multiply by the hundreds in the coldest months of the seasons, withstanding temperatures well below freezing. They were the size of French poodles with no bone structure like mice, allowing them the ability to squeeze through the smallest areas. Extremely dangerous, born with birth defects of heavy jaw bones, steel dental and triple poisoned halitosis. These rats could eat through the flesh of humans, animals, wood, and cement, causing them to be the carriers of many diseases that were deadly to humans and animals if exposed. Papa Kahn made a fortune off these rats, for every 500 rats killed was the equivalent to five thousand pounds of steel which he sold to metal and steel manufacturers, scrap yards and car makers globally. Robotically, twice a day lunch, and dinner for a six-minute regiment implemented by Papa Khan and his scientist. 500 rats would arrive on the two rows of cell blocks, to try and eat the prisoners. Along with other animals that made up the population on that side of the terrain. Papa Kahn, Sir, Jr and Creature just stood back and watched the rats travel through the cell blocks and make their attempt at eating and killing the prisoners. You could hear the vicious fighting, the screams, and cries of death from the prisoners and the rats. After the battle for feasting and prison life supremacy the remaining rats would crawl off the block, until dinner time. Kahn Jr and Sir who were extremely disturbed by the presence of the rats just stared with a look of tremor and edgy conduct. 

Later That Evening

The pitch-black sky hiding the stars became partners with the full moon and Papa’s special evening of, attempted freedom and disobedience, when Sir and Jr arrived at the boot camp. They could hear the growls of wolf packs and heavy breathing from grizzlies and mountain lions that patrolled the proximity. Papa Kahn, true to his word, on this day every year allowed 10 prisoners the opportunity to escape for 24-hour. He provided them cash, guns, ammo, and the opportunity to kill his soldiers or be killed for their freedom. Sir, Kahn Jr., and six Red Sea soldiers were all standing in front of the closed gates to the cell blocks. Jr. and Sir seemed panicky as one of the soldiers gave them instructions.

Listen, you two, snap out of it. Commander said you’re ready. We shall see. You both have radios in case we separate. Your assault rifles shoot bullets for the prisoners and rat poison for the rats. Stay close and try not to do anything stupid to get us killed. Understand? said the soldiers.

Yes, sir, said Sir and Kahn Jr.

MOMENTS LATER

Sir, Kahn Jr., and the six soldiers were ambushed by the 10 purge prisoners. They killed all six Red Sea soldiers. In a panic, Sir and Kahn Jr. left their weapons and ran for their lives in the deep dark night dodging nonstop bullets from the 10 prisoners. Five of the purge prisoners pursued Sir and Jr., while the other five made the dash for their freedom. 

THIRTY MINUTES LATER 

Sir and Jr., running for their lives, stumbled upon a small, rundown shack and ran inside.

MOMENTS LATER

The two heard rodents crawling towards the door of the shack.

Jr. close the door. It’s the frozen rats, said Sir.

Jr. closed the door just in time as the rats began crawling on the porch, then all over the outside of the shack. The rats began eating through the thick wood with their steel teeth in unison with each other. Sir and Jr. were inside nervously looking around, they found what seem to be the stash of former prisoners, money, clothes, and guns. Sir picked up a gun clip that had a rats face on it, he started reading the directions on it. They both could hear and see the rats were starting to penetrate the roof of the shack. Sir walked over to an unusual looking gun and picked it up. The gun had a picture of a rat on it. Sir called Jr., who was pacing around the room in a panic. He kept looking up at the roof of the shack, then at the door as the rats had the shack surrounded.

Jr., listen, these guns take rat poison.

Sir loaded one of the guns with a rat pellet clip, then threw it towards Jr., who caught it. Sir then loaded another gun for himself. The two stood side by side, pointing their weapons at the ceiling and the front door. They heard the rats eating their way through the shack’s roof. The two began to give a slow count to each other before they sprayed the rat poison as one of the rats fell through a newly made hole in the ceiling. Sir pulled out a blade and sliced the rat’s head off, killing him instantly. 

Jr., at the count of three, let’s blast these rodents. You shoot at the front door I will take the ceiling put this on, said Sir.

Sir handed Jr. a mask to put on his face.

Let’s do it, Holy-lander, said Jr.

1, 2, 3, said Sir.

Sir shot the poison at the ceiling; Jr shot his poison at the front door. The poison exploded and blew the shack up and killed all the rats. 

BACK TO THE PRESENT

Papa those rats, words cannot describe.

(Sir frowned his face up, then shook his head at Papa Kahn. Then the two laughed.)

Holy lander, your purchase of the United States today is something no man on earth has ever accomplished.

Papa listen, I trust you! But how can we own the United States? Is this a maneuver by the British? From what I’ve checked, the country is systematically owned and ruled by Congress. Wouldn’t they have to green light this acquisition? said Sir.

Holy-lander, I don’t know the specifics between the British and Congress, but they’re the ones who sold it to the British in 1932 or ’33, I was told. So, they’ve quietly owned it for quite some time.

Interesting! Very interesting, said Sir. Papa Kahn stared at Sir and smirked.

Yes, it is interesting! I know that look on you face Holy-lander, it’s the same look you and Jr. had on your first real mission in Wales.

Sir blew out a breath that was half-chuckled and half-sigh. That mission will always be the cornerstone of who I became as a man. 

Sir and Papa Khan began to reminisce about Sir and Jr.’s first big mission. 

THE PAST: PAPA KAHN’S STUDY

Sir and Kahn Jr. were summoned to Papa Kahn’s office. He wanted to talk to them about a mission. Sir and Jr. in somewhat Identical fashion, both wore all-black clothes, black boots, and black wool peacoats, the two were sitting and waiting for Papa Kahn in his office. Papa Khan walked in with a serious face, dressed in a Red Sea military uniform, spit shine black combat boots and holding an assault rifle. He greeted his two boys with hugs and kisses, he then sat down at his huge cherrywood desk. 

You two have been given a mission with a 30-day window. Can you handle it? inquired Papa Kahn.

Kahn Jr. and Sir both began to daydream about killing people on the battlefield, and then of being honored by Papa Kahn at a ceremony. Papa Kahn racked the slide on his assault rifle, pointed it to the ceiling, and let off a shot. Sir and Kahn Jr. immediately snapped out of their daydream nervously. 

Yes, Papa, we can handle anything, replied Kahn Jr. 

Papa, you made the right decision by selecting us, Sir pleaded.

I hope for your sake, you are correct, because the target is the Welsh royal family, said Papa Kahn.

Sir and Kahn Jr. stared back at their Papa, befuddled but eager. 

I thought they were all on the same side, said Sir.

What the fuck difference does it make? The powers that be want the demise of this family, asserted Papa Khan through clenched teeth.

Sir and Kahn Jr. squirmed in their chairs as Papa Kahn continued to boil slowly. (Papa Khan continued.) 

This is not an act of war against Wales the country. This is evenhandedness on their royals for conducting thievery on our superiors. Understood? 

Sir and Kahn Jr. both nodded in agreement with Papa Kahn.

Being a part of two World Wars combined with a secret civil war, Wales in the 1950s was on a decline. Losses from the war flattened the once great mining and agricultural economy, bringing to the country a deep sense of insecurity. The men of Wales felt there was no hope or means to provide for their families with domestic employment, so most eagerly volunteered for military service. The little bit of wealth and power that was left in the country after the World Wars was divided and controlled by the Labor Party, which replaced the Liberals as the dominant party that controlled the unions and the workforce in the country.

Then there was the royal family, who were descendants of the royals from Gwynedd. The English were able to control the Labor Party along with their unions. But they were not so lucky with the Welsh royals who hated the Kingdom family and the English sector of the government. They never wanted to share the country’s wealth or power with the British, nor did they respect their union between them, which was established by their descendants all those centuries ago. This caused major tension between the two countries. The English decided they wanted to relieve the remaining Welsh royals of their duties permanently, so they hired Papa Khan and his Red Sea assassins to do it. Papa Khan, however, to the surprise of those closest to him, including the English, decided to give this huge assignment to his two young amateur sons fresh out of his boot camp.

A few days later, Papa Kahn was sitting in his study with two men wearing British military uniforms. All three were looking at pictures of the Welsh royal milieu and strategizing. 

Papa Kahn, we need to be precise. Those fucking Americans at Langley are watching. I can feel it, said a soldier.

Who from your core of great assassins have you decided to use for this mission? asked another soldier.

Papa Khan gave the two soldiers a simpering glance. He paused a beat, then got up from his chair.

I have not decided yet. I do wish to be extremely careful with this matter, replied a pensive Papa Kahn.

Keep in mind, Papa, the royals are surrounded by military at all times. 

Yes, but of course, replied Papa Kahn. Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?

Shortly thereafter, a CIA agent in Langley, Virginia, was sitting at his desk looking at pictures of British spies in Wales walking in front of the wall that surrounded the castle. He grabbed the pictures and walked to the door of another office. He gave a slight knock at the office door, then entered.

Boss, I think there’s a bit of antagonism between the Welsh royals and the English. Look at these photos, implored the agent.

Hmm, the boss said. These pictures show agents, yes, but they could be undercover to protect the royals.

True, replied the agent. However, we intercepted a call from British intelligence about rogue assassins showing up in Wales for a mission, said the agent.

Just leave it alone, and let it play out, said the superior. I don’t want to be questioned about spying on Allies, okay? he continued.

Yes, sir. I understand, said the agent.

The agent walked back to his office and placed the folder with the pictures in his desk drawer and close it. The two British soldiers from earlier were in the far-right corner of the room packing up their files and wrapping up their meeting with Papa Kahn.

Papa Kahn, thank you for your time. It’s always a pleasure, said a soldier.

No, the pleasure is all mine, Papa Kahn insisted with a notable but understated sting in his voice.

The three shook hands, and the soldiers walked out of Papa Kahn’s study when one of the soldiers smiled, then looked back at Papa Kahn.

Papa Kahn, I must reiterate…this mission must be totally clandestine, not even those closest to us can be privy, said one soldier.

Understood, affirmed Papa Kahn.

Papa Kahn showed the soldiers to the front door. The three again embraced each other, and then the soldiers walked out of his mansion to a waiting car. The night before the mission, Sir and Kahn Jr. had one last meeting with Papa Kahn in his study to go over logistics before they left for Wales. Papa Kahn was sitting behind his desk smoking a cigar and sipping scotch. Sir and Kahn Jr. were both standing at attention with their hands behind their backs in front of Papa Khan. 

My sons, said Papa Kahn, I wanted to inform you before you leave tonight for Wales, that there will be no help from the Red Sea or the British forces for this mission. 

Sir and Kahn Jr. looked down, slightly distressed, wanting to avert eye contact with Papa Kahn, but their training would not allow for such a perceived weakness. Papa continued.

We have 30 days to get results. Rule one: All missions must be carried out even if it requires one’s death, said Papa Kahn. 

Kahn Jr. and Sir once again nodded their heads in agreement with Papa Kahn. They remained steady and unflinching.

Good luck, my sons! Remember: strength and honor, Papa Kahn said, reminding them of their creed. 

Sir and Kahn Jr. walked to the door to leave the study when the butler approached with a message. The butler was curt and robotic in his delivery.

Master Kahn, you have visitors, he bleated.

Who is it, Wayne?

It’s the British, said Wayne.

The butler walked away expressionless and upright. Two older pale gentlemen with grey hair and tight-fitted black suits and black shoes accompanied by a young boy with freckles wearing black trousers, a white dress shirt, black shoes and suspenders walked past Sir and Kahn Jr. into Papa Kahn’s study, leaving the door ajar. Kahn Jr. walked away, and then up the stairs to pack. Sir stayed behind and hid in the closet next to Papa Kahn’s study and began eavesdropping on their conversation. The young boy with the two older gentlemen began what appeared to be discourteous conversations towards Papa Kahn. 

Why the fuck would you put one of the biggest missions in our history together in the hands of two young amateur boys who aren’t British? scoffed the young man.

The two older gentlemen smirked and shook their heads at Papa Kahn in agreement with the young boy as he continued. 

Do you realize, if this goes to shit, we will have the specter of all the most powerful nations breathing down our necks? Especially those fucking Americans, said the boy.

Papa Kahn simpered at the young boy and the two older gentlemen before replying. 

I tell you what…I do realize, if this ‘goes to shit,’ my two sons may never come home.

The aspirations you share for these two young lads is poignant. However, your fidelity for them means nothing to us. I hope they achieve for your sake, said the boy.

And if they don’t? questioned Papa Kahn. 

Death will arrive to you and your Red Sea Army very soon, said the boy in a mysteriously confident tone. 

The boy (who, after the meeting, seemed anything but juvenile in his assertions) walked away with a cold click of his hard-soled, black, military-issued shoes. Papa Kahn gripped the gun secretly attached under his desk. The two older gentlemen gave Papa Kahn a hard stare, then walked out of Papa Kahn’s study past Sir, who was still in the closet pointing a handgun at the shadows that walked by him. Papa Kahn then yelled to Sir to come out of the closet back into his study.

Holy-lander, did you get an earful of my conversation with the British? Get yourself back in this room at once, he commanded. 

Sir walked back in the room holding a handgun. Papa Kahn smiled at Sir. 

Holy-lander close the door and sit down. I want to talk to you, ordered Papa Kahn.

Sir closed the door and sat down. 

What did you think of my conversation with our employer? asked Papa.

I heard their conversation, and I didn’t appreciate their disrespect. They are ungrateful. You and my father are the reason they’ve conquered so many! shouted Sir. 

Papa Kahn nodded his head in agreement with Sir. He then recalled his past.

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

A young Papa Kahn and Sir’s father Assure were sitting at the table with Michael Kingdom’s father, Omen Kingdom, the 5’10", 195-pound, solid-muscle man with great looks, superb diplomacy, and superior mathematics skills honed at Oxford. Omen was appointed by his parents to be the leader of his four brothers. His parents also wanted him