Part I

"Robert hasn't seen The Princess Bride, so he wouldn't get the irony of this introduction."

Cleveland, OH: 1993

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Robert. How do we know this? Because that's the name his grandfather shouted as he climbed up the stairs with a walking cane in one hand and a big bowl of matzah ball soup in the other. "Robert!" He shouted, "Robert!" Why was he shouting the boy's name in this split-level house? Because he heard his grandson was sick, and wanted to cheer him up with some good food.

"Hello, my dear grandson!" The man shouted as he banged open the door with his good shoulder. "I have something you'll like."

Of course, Robert was a little sick, but he had overplayed that sickness to his parents so they would leave him alone with his brand new Sega Genesis, and his brand new Sonic the Hedgehog video game, while they went off to work. He couldn't be bothered to pay attention to his grandfather, and his grandfather was a bit miffed at that attitude.

"Grandpa Morris? Thanks. Just leave it over there." He nodded his head sideways, in the general direction of the nightstand. In another reality where his grandpa acquiesced to his wishes, the soup would have gone cold and Robert would eventually hit the pause button and grab himself a hot dog to toss in the microwave while his grandpa watched a re-run of The Price Is Right downstairs on the living room couch.

This wasn't that reality. In this reality, the grandpa dumped the contents of the matzah ball soup onto the game system, causing it to seize up and die from the amount of liquid and tiny bits of food that now flowed between its circuits.

"HEY!" Robert shouted, "What did you do that for?"

"Robert, you spend too much time on that przeklęty game system!" Morris shouted in his Polish-accented English while banging his cane into the floor for added emphasis, though it was slightly muffled by the shag carpet. "Too much time losing yourself in stupid virtual fantasy world, not enough time in real ones!"

"C'mon Grandpa, there's nothing to do out there!"

"There is much wonder and amazement outside, you just not look for it at all! You have any idea what I had to do, some 60 years ago, for entertainment?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "You shot some Nazis?"

"What? No, no…we told stories, stories around the campfire! In between shooting of the Nazis."

"So what are you saying?"

"Well, you didn't seem to want my late wife's famous matzah ball soup." Robert did, in fact, want that soup. However, his attitude had cost him the most recent chance he had at eating it, though he blamed Grandpa Morris for his overreaction. "So instead, to make you feel better, I entertain you with great story."

"Do I hafta listen to this?" Robert pouted.

"Oh sure, ignore your old man who has seen and done more in teenage year than you have done in whole life so far! Here is how we begin…"

Washington, DC: 1934

"Huh, this Hitler fellow's got some interesting ideas about how to keep the economy going." Senator Burrie closed the newspaper as he found himself looking at a friend, "I tell ya, we could really use a guy like him as an ally against the Red Menace. You know what I mean?"

"Yes I do, Senator." The man nudged the frame of his glasses back up his nose. He wondered if he was going to have to pay for a new pair, again. He swore his eye doctor was purposefully doing shorting his prescription so he'd have to buy new ones from him every so often, but it didn't matter now. What mattered was the issue he had come with today. "Sir, about that…thing we discussed."

"Oh? Which thing?"

"The thing that involved a lot of effort by Jackson to prepare."

"Oh yes, the ship with our Peacemaker on board."

The man with the glasses hissed briefly.

"Sorry, sorry…yes, the maiden voyage of that ship is coming up soon, I hear. Is the project ready yet?"

"Ready enough for transport. Mr. Guinness will be making sure that no one interferes until it reaches the other side of the Atlantic."

"Oh? Well thank you." The Senator returned to reading his newspaper for a minute, and then pulled it away to see that the man with the glasses was still standing there. "What's wrong? I told you, you have my support."

"Senator, are you sure you want to go through with this? This is the last day to change your mind. After all, the nature of this device is..."

The Senator harrumphed, interrupting his guest's statement. "What's wrong, McHale? I didn't think a serviceman like you would go soft on me. Just tell me what you need and I'll make sure it gets there on time before the ship sets sail."

"Grandpa Morris?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Were you the Senator?"

"No."

"So you were the man with the glasses?"

"No, but I did meet the guy once."

"So then why are you telling the story here?"

"Because it's a perspective you need to learn! Now shut up and let me continue."

New York City, NY: 1934

A rich couple was enjoying an "unofficial" intermission at the opera house as they stepped outside to take a smoke break. At least, that was their excuse, because in those days no one would really mind if they had just lit up a pipe in the middle of their box seat. In reality, they were feeling a little frisky at the time, they wanted to enjoy themselves a bit before their parents discovered their absence at intermission, so they ducked into a nearby broom closet, where they were sure no one would spot them.

Unfortunately for them, that closet was occupied by another couple who were also hiding in the very same broom closet, but for a different reason. A reason that involved cleaning a jammed Thompson sub machinegun, or Tommy Gun, or Chicago Typewriter. The first figure in the broom closet, a man with raven-black hair and a suit with a couple small bullet holes in it, happened to be making out with a redheaded girl who was only half-concentrating on fixing the jammed gun. As the rich couple had opened the closet, their brains took a few seconds to process what was transpiring in front of them.

The gentleman and the girl with the gun quickly yanked the rich couple into the closet with them and shut the door. A few heated words and a couple less-heated knife slashings later, the rich couple suddenly found themselves without their coats, their belongings, and their lives. It would probably take awhile before the janitor discovered the bodies, but for the time being the thrill-killers had claimed another couple of victims.

"Oh Julie Julie Julie, wouldja look at that?" The man spoke as he dug through the contents of the rich woman's purse with a long knife that happened to have a bit of blood on it. "Looks like the lady had some tickets to a different show in her purse."

"Oooh, 'a maiden voyage!'" Julie replied, "Whatever could that be, my dearest Romeo? A play? An opera? A musical? Maybe one of them nickel pictures?"

"Well, whatever it is, it's happening tomorrow, right here in New York! Something called the Neptune's Trident, and it's happening down at the pier!"

"Wow, sounds like a cruise! I always wanted to go on a cruise!"

"If it is a cruise, I bet'cha it's full of rich people, just beggin' for someone to relieve them of their…" Romeo stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and then spoke in a very high-toned accent, "…mighty painful burdens of royalty."

"Oh Romeo, let's go there."

"Indeed, we're gonna wait until we're in international waters baby, and then no one's gonna stop us!"

The two thrill-killers kissed each other and then danced off into the night, having forgotten all about the statement they were planning to make at that night's opera. On the other hand, when a janitor later discovered the two dead bodies hiding in his beloved broom closet, the statement would already find its way to the press.

"Who were those two guys?"

"They called themselves Romeo and Juliet."

"You mean like from that movie?"

"Movie?" Morris nearly choked on his own bile, "It was a play by Shakespeare!"

"Oh yeah, my English teacher said something about him. Kind of boring, though."

"Uczą was nic w szkole? Głupie dziecko."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"So where do you come in, Grandpa?"

"I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it…"

Brooklyn, NY: 1934

The bartender waved his hand as the last customer left for the night. Prohibition was finally dead, and everyone was drinking to their heart's content now that they didn't have to worry about being ringed by the cops for simply having a drink. Not like most of the cops here would do such a thing, but it really helped now that the establishment's survival didn't rely solely on mob ties and extortion to get by. It made the bartender slightly happier, because now he could get a little more sleep each night than before.

The bartender's head turned to the door as he saw a man in a suit step inside. "Sorry sir, we're closed for the night."

The man in the suit was panting heavily, as if he had just run a marathon to get all the way here. His pudgy face was all flushed red and he was wiping the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. "I'm looking for a Mr. Wick." He said.

"Sorry, Mr. Wick ain't here at this hour. Try again tomorrow."

"Tell him it's an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?"

"Look, I…oh God, oh God they're gonna skin me alive." The suited man stumbled forward, catching himself on the counter. The bartender poured him a glass of water and set it down next to him. "Look, I'm supposed to book the entertainment for this new cruise across the Atlantic…but the old crew, the ones that were supposed to do it? They got held up in California. Left for dead by the side of the road. And if I don't find someone who can play some kinda instrument for some rich people and get them to the pier before this thing takes off tomorrow, it'll be my ass on a silver platter."

"Well, I do see how that would be an issue."

"Look, just let me see Mr. Wick, I need to talk to him, see what kind of entertainment he can get on short notice."

The bartender drummed his fingers on the counter, trying to quickly weigh the pros and cons of waking up Mr. Wick for this man when an idea suddenly lit up in his mind. "Oh, I'll do you one better. I know a group who can pack up their belongings and leave in just a few hours...but just one question, does it pay well?"

"Does it pay?" The suited man scoffed. "Well, for being unofficial part of the crew, they get free food and shelter, and they'll get paid once the thing lands in Europe."

"Is that so? Well then, I think I know just the people who are looking for such a job."

"Really? You really mean it?"

"Of course I do, but they'll be a little different from the performers you're used to."

"Look, if they can play an instrument or sing better than a dead cat, I'll take 'em." The man took the glass of water sitting nearby and drank it all in just a few seconds. "Oh man, you're a lifesaver!"

The bartender chuckled as he reached for the phone hidden under the bar and began to dial a number. "Lifesaver? You do know what we serve here, right?"

"So you were a musician, Grandpa Morris?"

Morris shook his head. "I could do a little dancing in my youth, but never did get around to playing an instrument."

"So then you were the bartender?"

"Pshaw. I actually did something with my life."

"So then what were you?"

"I will tell you in a moment. We still have quite a bit of story to go…"

"This story is getting boring already."

"My grandson, just give it a chance. Good stories take time to develop...you can't expect them all to be good on the introduction."

Robert simply groaned and shoved his head deeper into his pillow. He dreaded listening to his grandpa tell some boring story, but at this point he didn't have much of a choice.