Disclaimer: I do not own the Mighty Ducks. I do not personally know the
Ducks or anyone from the movies. This is just my fiction story. Fan
fiction, to be more specific. So, in the form of a more formal (and
politically correct) disclaimer... This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously (referring to the Ducks), and "any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental."
Author's Note: Sorry for such a lengthy disclaimer. I just found real books' disclaimers to be quite interesting. Anyways, I just decided to write a "war" story. I don't mean to steal anybody's ideas, because I know there are one or two Ducks' fics out there that talk about their going to war. I just came up with this when I was looking at some old stories I wrote a couple years ago as school assignments and when I was looking at some Lost ads in the newspaper. Besides, I don't think ideas can be copy written... But, to get to the point, sorry if this might resemble another story in any way at all.
Point of view: Jesse
I hadn't seen them since I had left Minnesota after the Junior Goodwill Games. We were just kids then. Parting wasn't so bad; we had all promised to keep in touch. And we did. Most of the Ducks went off to Eden Hall and created our never-to-be-forgotten dynasty there. I was their backstage fan at that time, applauding them for their victories from my new home in the heart of New York City.
Then college came. Man, those were some crazy years. The Ducks split up and went their separate ways, but hockey ultimately kept us together. We wouldn't let anyone take that away from us. We'd watch each other's games on the television once in a while when they popped up. And the e-mail. There was a crap load of it; from one Duck to another to another, until the message had reached everyone.
They were my family, no matter how far apart we were from each other.
Sure, New York City held some good times for me; I even got into New York University for college. I know my parents were proud for sure, but... Things still would never be the same.
I can remember distinctly the sun's vibrant wash over the busy city in the early morning hours, reminding me of Minnesota yet again. For a moment, everything was seemingly perfect. Flashbacks of the Ducks would run through my mind, tugging at my insides. I missed it all. But then I'd look down from my window on the fourth story of the brick apartment building and see the traffic and businesspeople walking along the sidewalk; I was still in New York, doing my own thing. Reality was tough, and the Ducks were my dream.
Maybe hockey had some mysterious powers or some kind of spell woven deep into its material meaning because nothing had ever meant so much to me. Nothing had ever brought me so much friendship. Nothing else could have brought me to the Ducks with such perfect timing.
You have no idea how much I wanted to go back to being a kid again... To be one of those Ducks who didn't mind getting in trouble for their teammates or for quacking at the principal.
While I reminisced in my own world, the real world was spinning without me. The America that I had once proudly represented dragged itself into the center of big trouble. It wasn't trouble wherein they just had a big debt to pay or couldn't choose which ally they wanted to support. It's more like: Someone hurt our country, emotionally, physically, and economically, so now we're going to go kick some butt.
Oddly enough, I had signed the papers in which I agreed that I would enter the battlefield (or maybe stay behind the battlefield) if the Army or Marines ever needed me. Heh... like they'd ever need me to go and fight. Yeah, right.
But they did. They actually called me up and told me that they needed me. You knew that was coming, didn't you? New York City life was so predictable.
I'm leaving the city today. All I have to do is shove some stuff in a bag or two, and then I'll be off. Who knows how long I'll be gone. Weeks, months, maybe even a little over a year.
The taxi I had called just a few minutes ago arrived, and I threw my things inside the vehicle along with my own body. Here we go. All this time, I had been waiting for something new to happen; well, this was it, wasn't it?
I peered out the left window as we drove by the places I had grown to know so well. My eyes wandered first from one urban sidewalk tree to another, but I soon began to gaze at each store and restaurant we passed. The driver turned west, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wheel; the traffic today was horrible. Beneath the next overpass, two cars were badly maimed, one on the rear and the other from the front. Tough luck there.
At the huge, gray-walled base in Maryland, things seemed somber... even dreary. I stepped out of the taxi, met by a tall, built man wearing dark sunglasses and a black suit that looked too big for his size.
"Mr. Jesse Hall?" the man asked in a deep voice. It sounded more like a statement than a question, but I nodded nonetheless. The man held out a large, pale hand. "You can call me Lieutenant Groby."
Putting down my bags on the paved road, I shook his outstretched hand. "So... uhh... what should I be doing? I mean, I've never done this before..."
The lieutenant chuckled in amusement. "Don't worry about it. You'll be working with a team consisting of people who have as much as training as you have."
Was I supposed to be relieved?
He led me through a dark corridor decorated with a single light bulb hanging by a short silver chain from the high ceiling. The one-hundred- meter-long pathway ended at a securely locked door and a touch pad next to it.
I glanced at Lieutenant Groby, expecting him to punch in a code that would cause the door to slide open. Instead, he looked right back at me.
"Twenty-seven. Ninety. P. J. H. Seven. Nine. Then touch your right thumb to the screen and turn it counterclockwise for a full ninety degrees. That's your only way of getting in here when no one else is with you. Remember it."
I carefully typed in the series of numbers and letters, following his every direction. I was afraid that if I couldn't even do this correctly, how would I ever be able to manage a war?
The massive, rectangular block moved to the left, revealing a more inviting environment than I had expected. People were talking, laughing heartily, working with ease. They made it seem as if the war was merely child's play in a sandbox. I almost believed it too.
Over the next week I spent at the base, I was able to make the acquaintance of several captains and generals, who were always happy to oblige by showing me around and teaching me the fundamental parts of combat. They taught me how to remain calm and rational in emergencies and disasters, how to load a gun, how to aim correctly, how to maneuver in and out of the fighting zone. Everything seemed so easy and so relaxed, but they let us know that they were really preparing us for anything that might, and would, happen.
Everything was a blur on the day I had to leave. I don't recall how I had gotten out of bed, what I had eaten, who I had greeted with a sure salute. But I know I was nervous; I was supposed to meet the people I'd be "hanging" with out there. Wouldn't it have made more sense if I had gotten acquainted with them upon arriving?
No, they had said, it would be better to do things this way. We might as well get used to making last-minute adjustments.
I walked slowly out to the plane, the one that would take me to the other side of the world. I suddenly had no idea what I was doing here.
Author's Note: There are only going to be three chapters to the whole story, so I'll try my best to make these chapters longer. (Heh... I'm writing my author's notes like I expect people to be reading them...)
Author's Note: Sorry for such a lengthy disclaimer. I just found real books' disclaimers to be quite interesting. Anyways, I just decided to write a "war" story. I don't mean to steal anybody's ideas, because I know there are one or two Ducks' fics out there that talk about their going to war. I just came up with this when I was looking at some old stories I wrote a couple years ago as school assignments and when I was looking at some Lost ads in the newspaper. Besides, I don't think ideas can be copy written... But, to get to the point, sorry if this might resemble another story in any way at all.
Point of view: Jesse
I hadn't seen them since I had left Minnesota after the Junior Goodwill Games. We were just kids then. Parting wasn't so bad; we had all promised to keep in touch. And we did. Most of the Ducks went off to Eden Hall and created our never-to-be-forgotten dynasty there. I was their backstage fan at that time, applauding them for their victories from my new home in the heart of New York City.
Then college came. Man, those were some crazy years. The Ducks split up and went their separate ways, but hockey ultimately kept us together. We wouldn't let anyone take that away from us. We'd watch each other's games on the television once in a while when they popped up. And the e-mail. There was a crap load of it; from one Duck to another to another, until the message had reached everyone.
They were my family, no matter how far apart we were from each other.
Sure, New York City held some good times for me; I even got into New York University for college. I know my parents were proud for sure, but... Things still would never be the same.
I can remember distinctly the sun's vibrant wash over the busy city in the early morning hours, reminding me of Minnesota yet again. For a moment, everything was seemingly perfect. Flashbacks of the Ducks would run through my mind, tugging at my insides. I missed it all. But then I'd look down from my window on the fourth story of the brick apartment building and see the traffic and businesspeople walking along the sidewalk; I was still in New York, doing my own thing. Reality was tough, and the Ducks were my dream.
Maybe hockey had some mysterious powers or some kind of spell woven deep into its material meaning because nothing had ever meant so much to me. Nothing had ever brought me so much friendship. Nothing else could have brought me to the Ducks with such perfect timing.
You have no idea how much I wanted to go back to being a kid again... To be one of those Ducks who didn't mind getting in trouble for their teammates or for quacking at the principal.
While I reminisced in my own world, the real world was spinning without me. The America that I had once proudly represented dragged itself into the center of big trouble. It wasn't trouble wherein they just had a big debt to pay or couldn't choose which ally they wanted to support. It's more like: Someone hurt our country, emotionally, physically, and economically, so now we're going to go kick some butt.
Oddly enough, I had signed the papers in which I agreed that I would enter the battlefield (or maybe stay behind the battlefield) if the Army or Marines ever needed me. Heh... like they'd ever need me to go and fight. Yeah, right.
But they did. They actually called me up and told me that they needed me. You knew that was coming, didn't you? New York City life was so predictable.
I'm leaving the city today. All I have to do is shove some stuff in a bag or two, and then I'll be off. Who knows how long I'll be gone. Weeks, months, maybe even a little over a year.
The taxi I had called just a few minutes ago arrived, and I threw my things inside the vehicle along with my own body. Here we go. All this time, I had been waiting for something new to happen; well, this was it, wasn't it?
I peered out the left window as we drove by the places I had grown to know so well. My eyes wandered first from one urban sidewalk tree to another, but I soon began to gaze at each store and restaurant we passed. The driver turned west, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wheel; the traffic today was horrible. Beneath the next overpass, two cars were badly maimed, one on the rear and the other from the front. Tough luck there.
At the huge, gray-walled base in Maryland, things seemed somber... even dreary. I stepped out of the taxi, met by a tall, built man wearing dark sunglasses and a black suit that looked too big for his size.
"Mr. Jesse Hall?" the man asked in a deep voice. It sounded more like a statement than a question, but I nodded nonetheless. The man held out a large, pale hand. "You can call me Lieutenant Groby."
Putting down my bags on the paved road, I shook his outstretched hand. "So... uhh... what should I be doing? I mean, I've never done this before..."
The lieutenant chuckled in amusement. "Don't worry about it. You'll be working with a team consisting of people who have as much as training as you have."
Was I supposed to be relieved?
He led me through a dark corridor decorated with a single light bulb hanging by a short silver chain from the high ceiling. The one-hundred- meter-long pathway ended at a securely locked door and a touch pad next to it.
I glanced at Lieutenant Groby, expecting him to punch in a code that would cause the door to slide open. Instead, he looked right back at me.
"Twenty-seven. Ninety. P. J. H. Seven. Nine. Then touch your right thumb to the screen and turn it counterclockwise for a full ninety degrees. That's your only way of getting in here when no one else is with you. Remember it."
I carefully typed in the series of numbers and letters, following his every direction. I was afraid that if I couldn't even do this correctly, how would I ever be able to manage a war?
The massive, rectangular block moved to the left, revealing a more inviting environment than I had expected. People were talking, laughing heartily, working with ease. They made it seem as if the war was merely child's play in a sandbox. I almost believed it too.
Over the next week I spent at the base, I was able to make the acquaintance of several captains and generals, who were always happy to oblige by showing me around and teaching me the fundamental parts of combat. They taught me how to remain calm and rational in emergencies and disasters, how to load a gun, how to aim correctly, how to maneuver in and out of the fighting zone. Everything seemed so easy and so relaxed, but they let us know that they were really preparing us for anything that might, and would, happen.
Everything was a blur on the day I had to leave. I don't recall how I had gotten out of bed, what I had eaten, who I had greeted with a sure salute. But I know I was nervous; I was supposed to meet the people I'd be "hanging" with out there. Wouldn't it have made more sense if I had gotten acquainted with them upon arriving?
No, they had said, it would be better to do things this way. We might as well get used to making last-minute adjustments.
I walked slowly out to the plane, the one that would take me to the other side of the world. I suddenly had no idea what I was doing here.
Author's Note: There are only going to be three chapters to the whole story, so I'll try my best to make these chapters longer. (Heh... I'm writing my author's notes like I expect people to be reading them...)