Disclaimer: This is a take on the recent "PS 3 long live play" commercial. Consider it a tie in with my Kim Possible story "Veterans Day." It may seem corny but I got teary eyed watching and typing and if you pour your heart into something it makes it worthwhile. Enjoy.

It was rapidly becoming dark with a distant storm rolling in from the West there was a building that sat largely forgotten by the rest of the city; small and quaint with only one dim light outside showing any sign of life to the outside. For those that cared Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were standing outside of it, though only Kim showed any determination. "Why are we here exactly, KP?" Ron had asked when they first set out. For some reason Kim had no answer. There was no mission, no evil doing goings on, they were here on some sort of whim, but in reality, Kim felt her heart being drawn by to this place. Such a cold night as they walked towards the building and found no outside markings, no hours, or even an "open" sign and Rufus looked around himself and lowered his small body into Ron's pocket.

"Should we go back?" Ron asked with Rufus eagerly nodding however Kim reached out and pushed the door and it smoothly swung inward and stepping inside there was a booth with a beautiful black with her dark hair neatly bound behind her head, a dark, crystal encrusted dress that blended in with the background that made it difficult to see her thin figure. Walking up Kim spies a large, brass, offering plate in front of her.

"Hello," Kim smiled and the woman, holding up a smile herself with full purse lips, looked back and slightly tipped her head towards the bowl, silently asking for an offering. Reaching into their pockets both of them dropped several dollars and the woman motioned with a slight turn of the head towards a door off to the side. "Thank you," Walking around they approached a solid wood door that was thick enough to muffle the sounds from the other side. Reaching out and slowly wrapping her fingers around the wrought iron door handle Kim looked back at Ron with a raised eyebrow, "You ready?" Rufus was shaking his head negatively yet Ron swallowed hard and nodded, drawing a deep breath, and calmed himself as Kim pulled the door open and slowly walked in and were surprised to see so many around in such a small room. Immediately before them was a bar with two keepers washing mugs giving them a glance before going back to work as others paid them no heed. The first pair of people Kim and Ron past they could hear them talking; one was an old man with a black leather jacket lined with wool and on its back was a pin up model covered with yellow bomb symbols, "Flying over Burma in my B-17 looking for Jap troop movements, next thing I know, plane's going down. I'm hanging there at 10,000 feet in my chute with Zeros trying to shoot me. I was barely hanging on when they saved me." He carefully shrugged it off smiling as they continued to talk.

Progressing deeper into the room almost every table was occupied; there was one table being used to play checkers and some had decided to forego chairs and stood in a back area, leaning against the cold stone wall. Fortunately they found a small table off towards the back and moved towards it, going past others, not just old men but there were young men, in their twenties and even younger and even a few women, most of them were talking in pairs, they could only catch snippets of their conversations until they pulled up a seat and were finally able to take it all in as their voices echoed in the room.

A thin elderly man with thin white hair and a rasp Russian accent forced the words out with pride as he talked to another sitting on a stool over at the bar, "In that old city, when half of it was controlled by the Germans that wanted me dead and the other half was starving and pleading for help," he cracked a smile with his thin, cracked, lips, "They brought out my good side."

Listening to them intently, the pair was suddenly surprised by a voice from behind. There, sitting by himself in a corner, was a plump old man with a crumbled cowboy hat, shoving a cigarette into his mouth he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a gold colored zippo lighter, struck a light and closed it. Drawing a drag he flicked a look at the two newcomers, forced a quick smile, and pocketed the lighter. His voice was grizzled and the reason was clear when he looked up, his throat had several jagged marks in the soft, wrinkled skin made by shrapnel, "I'm saying the war is never forgotten." Standing up to draw the attention of the room, "I did what I had to, but I'm no damn hero. But whatever good I've done, it was because of them." His head rises up, looking for something that Kim and Ron could not see on a distant wall.

From the darkness on the other side of the room a woman advanced out, on her own, with one hand holding a thick leather bound book. When the light showed her smooth face and round blue eyes and bright blonde hair neatly done in a bun behind her head she paused. Her gown was entirely out of place, it was…old in the sense, a different period with, faded bright colors, a corset, and dress down to her shoes, and when she spoke, it was a slight English accent that threw them off at first, "It was days of suffering when the world had endured this nightmare. When no man dared to stand in front of the King," her head suddenly turned towards the wall to her left, "They did!"

Who was 'they'? Neither Kim or Ron or Rufus understood, yet the other patrons did. Energy flowed through the room. The spark had been made and began to pick up as Kim and Ron suddenly began to feel their heart race; they felt in the middle of something and as they looked at all the faces around them; attentive, serious, every word they said meant something until an old man hobbled up, slamming a hand on the surface of his table to prop himself up and at the same moment silenced everyone in the room.

"Tarawa!" every head turned to look as he stood with a scared face, "Pinned down on that God forsaken beach…" his lower lip quivered as he paused, "I knew that any minute there I may die if we don't get up and move, and because of them, we broke through."

It was flowing faster now. Others, fueled now with long seated passion began to stand up, to advance, to speak their piece. From around the woman that had just spoken came a short man with a thick, dark, soiled, trench coat, caked over leather boots and a white on red brassard on his right arm just above the elbow, very haggard with a German stahlhelm helmet of World War II, "When Hitler murdered my family! They gave me vengeance."

From the midst an English man stood up, his thick accent made it difficult to understand in his fervor when he said, "When the whole bloody world's gone insane. We call on them!"

Across the way a black man thrusted his fist into the air shouting, "Baghdad, First Marines!" Across the bar another man stood up, a Globe and Anchor on his ball cap, he shouted as hard as his old lungs could, "Ooh-Rah!"

"Fort McHenry!"

"Huzzah!"

"Chosin Few!"

"Ooh-Rah!"

"Big Red One!"

"Hooah!"

Then, a sudden voice calmed them. It was not powerful as a booming cannon, it was as soft as a kitten's purr. It was one of the bartenders, setting down his rag and his cup he reached around his neck and pulled off a set of dog tags, holding his hand as a cup raised it above his head for all to see when he said, "But we in it shall be remembered-We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today sheds his blood with me shall be my brother." His eyes watered and wiping them away with the cuff of his other wrist the hand holding the tags turned into a defiant fist, "For what they did for us, for all of us!"

It took a moment for Kim and Ron to understand who they were and it dawned on them, these people were talking about their comrades, buddies, brothers and sisters. There were no pictures of them on any of the walls around them nor on the mantles but each could one tell you what they looked like. They came from all walks of life and all placed their lives on the line, for them, not for a flag or a country, but for them.

They were veterans, young and old, cheering for their comrades and not for themselves. Even though one was Army Air Force and this other a Marine, it did not matter. It did not matter how many medals they came back with or how many stories they told. Every time they spoke, it was not for themselves, it was always for them. As they listened the chants played on and Kim and Ron looked at each other with satisfied smiles.

Ooh-rah! Ooh-rah! Hooah! Hooah! Huzzah! Huzzah! Viva! Viva!

Outside, as their cheers echoed through the building, outside, it began to rain.

Long live those that came before and the future.