Prologue

My name is Nathaniel Silver, and I've done terrible, terrible things with my life…

Or rather, I would've done terrible, terrible things with my life if I hadn't found myself in the ranks of a silly excuse for a terrorist organization. Come to think of it, how did I end up here in the first place? Oh yeah, that's right. A pamphlet on my car window. I read a long monologue about saving the United States from itself, among other things. Needless to say, I let my curiosity get the best of me, and the next thing I knew, I wound up amongst an army of idiots.

Whoever said that curiosity killed the cat has no idea how right he/she was.

Anyway, these guys called themselves the Children of the Founders. They said that their mission was to "restore this once great nation to its former glory as outlined by the Constitution and eliminate anyone who dares defile it." In other words, they were today's amateur versions of the Ku Klux Klan; they went around Star City and tried to "execute noble actions of constitutional splendor," which actually means "fail epically at committing acts of genocide." In retrospect, I should've known that I would someday look back on it all and laugh my head off.

For example, there was this one incident where we threw a Molotov cocktail through the Chen house's window and realized that we forgot to light it. Then, there was this time where we planted a bomb in Old Man Jenkins' car but forgot to install a detonator. And don't even get me started on the mailbox incident; I still have nightmares about those fish.

In the end, the Children of the Founders was dismantled by Star City's local police, but after looking at how incompetent we all were, they all put us through community service sentences. I was lucky enough to volunteer at the Supernova Colosseum right at the time of that year's King of Blades tourney. Man, I really wanted that samurai chick to win; she was hot.

But enough of my ramblings. What you're about to read is a compilation of my misadventures with the Children of the Founders. Sit back, relax, and prepare to quake with fear/laughter at the sound of their name…and their screams of pain.