A.D. 2013

Prologue

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in Corry, Pennsylvania – not a cloud in the sky, not a tear to dim the eye. Joel Riker was in his garage on Maple Avenue working on a bicycle – he had signed a deal with Pacific Cycle, Inc. through Schwinn to make them a new bicycle that would sell with wanton abandon. They had high hopes in young Riker, that he would bring to the company fortune and glory.

He went to the mailbox, it being of the proper time that mail was delivered to his house, and retrieved the mail. There was a letter from Pacific Cycle addressed to him – he therefore opened it.

'Dear Sir, this letter is to inform you that we are thoroughly displeased with your Orodruin prototype that you have sent to us, your petty idea of a Schwinn bicycle, and we henceforth terminate your contract. You will never again work for Pacific Cycle, Inc. or any of it's subsidiaries. Yours in Technicality, J. Edgar Fopman, President and CEO, Pacific Cycle, Inc.'

Riker was sore displeased upon reading this and began to curse and to swear profanely and obscenely. He decided that he would then turn to a life of crime, bank-robbing, kidnapping, and what-not. He then sought to have this letter laminated as an inspiration for his evildoing, and knowing that there was an office supplies company just up the road from where he was, he turned and ran directly thereto.

Once he had returned to his home with his laminated letter, he turned therefore out of the way into his garage, where he thenceforth picked up a hammer and nail, and pounded the letter into the wall. He then sat down to plan as to what would be his first act of cowardice and evildoing.

Several hours later, he emerged thenceforth from deep thought – he had decided what he would do first. He must go and speak therefore to his friend Mad Dog, being named in full Justin Proctor, and must convince him to join with him thereto. He would speak to Mad Dog on this wise: that they in one accord would get revenge moreover against Pacific Cycle, Inc. and would thenceforth create their own bicycle company beginning with the Orodruin, and give Mad Dog an equal share in his fortune and glory. He did not veritably intend to uphold his end of the contract – he would either dispose of him, or henceforth cause him to take the punishment for all of their crimes. He, at that moment therefore, set out to do that which he had conspired alone to do.

Chapter I

Call to Order

It was completely and utterly dark in a hotel room somewhere in Corry – the WWE's Undertaker Theme played loudly on a speaker system. It sent chills down the spines of any, if any there were, who heard. This continued for about two minutes, when suddenly, the piece was over, and the lights came on.

'Hello, everybody,' said Nate, who had now become visible. 'This is our eighth annual Fellowship of the Nate meeting. I see that a few of you have chosen to show up, and I'm glad of that. Let's see, we have alumnus Rachel and Toast, as well as prospective members Jack and Jeremiah, both currently employed as department managers at WAL*MART here in Corry. Paul Wotus has also issued his request to join, but could not be here this morning because he had jury duty. Charlie Brown, as you know, has retired and is now working on Broadway portraying Charlie Brown – RJ has been, for several years now, in Hollywood making movies – most recently he has filmed a remake of The Incredible Hulk, making up for the well-intentioned but disappointing 2003 film. The most recent bit of news that I have received is that he is no longer in Hollywood – he has split away and formed his own movie town named Wodieville. Wodieville is advocating today's technology with yesteryear's standards.

'Also in business matters, the Fellowship of the Nate has received funding from Mr. Mike Magoon of Corry, who some of you will know as having worked downstairs at the Journal as a pressman. He has since retired from that and is now owner of a large downtown business, and becoming quite wealthy. He has donated several million dollars to our cause, for, in his own words, he “decided that it was (his) duty as a wealthy citizen of Corry to help further law enforcement.” We now have money to buy proper equipment for our quest to aid Zinger at each beck and call.

'One thing that we were able to buy was matching uniforms – with the newly designed FOTN logo on the chest. The uniforms will be white and green – shirt and pants for the males, shirt and culottes for the females. By the way, no capes – you all saw the Incredibles, and know the reason for that. And they won't be skin-tight as most superhero outfits are wont to be. We will be taking a bus to Men's Wearhouse in Erie to get fitted tonight.

'Also, Toast has requested that she be allowed the rank of cheerleader for the Fellowship of the Nate – I and Zinger have granted that request. Zinger himself picked out the uniform, so you can be assured that it will be the most decent cheerleader uniform ever created. I believe, Toast, that you will also find in a pocket that is inside the skirt, which will be down to the ankles, a mechanical fist. If in need, you may pull it out, aim it at some idiot, and push the button – it will unload and punch the idiot in the face with tremendous force.

'Now on to our prospective members Jack, Jeremiah, and Paul – assuming that they are approved by us all, they must then undertake a perilous quest – the quest for the Holy Quill. The Quill in question is a pen bearing the logo of the Fellowship of the Nate, hidden somewhere in the realm of Corry. I have hidden three FOTN pens with their names on them, and have here three tablets of stone, one for each, with riddled directions to the first marker. From there they will find the second marker, which leads them to the third, which will lead them to the Quill itself. Once they find it, they will return to me bearing the Quill, as well as the three markers. They will become a member of the Fellowship of the Nate upon their passing of each and every test. Any objections?' Silence followed.

'Very good – then here are your markers, and I'll give Paul's his later on. You will begin your quest Monday morning at 7:00. I'll call you all up on your cellular telephones should Zinger need us – remember that I have a satellite location on him at all times, though he does not know it.'

 Chapter II

Chapter III

Democratic Obscenities

Special Agent Jon Zinger was walking to work on a superb Monday morning, eating a Zinger, two days after he had led the Polka Dot to Christ. He would normally be riding his bike, but it was in for repairs at Slike's Bicycle Repairs and Accessories, and the day was beautiful enough to walk. It was about 7:30 AM as he walked through the center of the park, which was now mostly empty. The kids who usually hung out at the park were all in bed, having stayed up until late at night.

There was, however, one young man standing up, facing the opposite direction when Zinger approached. His name was Joel Riker – he was smoking a cigarette when Zinger walked by and blew the smoke into the face of Zinger. Zinger gagged, and threw his Zinger into the nearest trash can, for it wreaked of smoke and tasted similar. 'Joel,' coughed Zinger. 'Don't you think that you could refrain from blowing smoke into other people's faces?'

'What the Bill Clinton are you talking about?' cursed Joel. 'Get your John Kerry out of here, you son of a democrat! – this is my domain.'

'Please watch your mouth,' requested Zinger as he cringed.

'Al Gore! I'm supposed to watch my Howard Dean language around you, Specially Aged Jon Zinger? Ted Kennedy!'

'Good day, Joel – and work on your manners, if you would.'

As Zinger walked away, Riker said something under his breath that Zinger could not hear. 'I'll work on getting my minions, and my schemes against you, Aged Zinger!' Zinger heard the last two words of Riker's comment, but nothing more. He simply walked on and ignored Joel as he crossed Maple Avenue.

Approximately 15 minutes later, Zinger approached HQ and walked inside. 'Hey chief – how're you doing?'

'I'm doing fine, Zinger – and you?'

'I'm doing alright – except for some second-hand smoke that somebody decided to breathe in my face. Whaw! That's disgusting.'

'I can only imagine, Zinger – well, I haven't had anything happen so far – no calls, no nothing – I guess we can just sit back and relax for a few minutes until something does happen.'

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Riker was sitting on a park bench talking to his friends Mad Dog and Jevin. He had decided to include Jevin on this scheme, as Jevin was extremely robotics-savvy and could help with something of that nature. 'Alright guys, what do you say? Do you want to share in my fortune and glory? Are you in or out? Double-crossers or devout? Put your faith in me and pretty soon you'll see I'm the prince of generosity. Are you foe or friend? Here's the path I recommend – you want a ride to fame? I've got the fastest route – what's it gonna be? Are you in or out?'

'I'm in – I don't know about Jevin,' declared Mad Dog. 'But I'm in – I'm with you any week of the day.'

'I suppose I'll join you,' said Jevin. 'But on one condition: I get to pick my own name, and weapons.'

'Agreed,' said Joel. 'The entire reason that I chose you was for your knowledge of robotics, mechanics 'n stuff. I expect you to pick some sort of high-tech weapon or somethin' like that.'

'Well then,' pondered Jevin. 'I'm Cluny the Scourge! I shall attach a mechanical tail to my tail bone, with a stinger on the end – it will obey my every command – respond to every thought process, whip at each sting of hatred that wells within my mind! I'll hop and I'll pop and I'll swing with a swish and the tail will obey my every wish.'

'You're an idiot,' replied Joel calmly. Then turning to Mad Dog, he said, 'Get yourself a uniform that you will wear at all times. Report back to me tonight – for tonight it is that we strike our first blow. In the meantime, Jevin – move your tail, and Mad Dog, get the uniform.' At that, they dispersed, and went to their homes.

Chapter IV

Digital Video Diversion

Later that day, at approximately 12:00, Rachel was driving along West Washington Street, towards the bowling alley talking to Toast on her cellular telephone. 'Hey, I'll catch you later – there's a sign here on the corner of Maple and Washington that says DVD's for sale – I'm going to go check it out – see you, Toasty.' She then stopped quickly and turned left, intent on getting some DVD's.

She turned into a driveway on the left side of the road where the signs directed her to, not realizing that this was Joel's driveway. She had known him several years ago, but had long cut her connexions with him. The sign directed her into a basement below the house. 'Hello?' she called. There was no answer but her echo. Suddenly the door closed behind her and locked – the lights went out. A hand reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around until she lost all sense of direction.

The hand removed itself from her shoulder and turned on a light. The man, who had just become visible, stared at her with a lecherous look in his eye. 'Hello, Rachel – wow, you're looking hot today.'

Slow realization dawned on Rachel as she realized who this man was – it was Joel Riker. 'Don't you dare look at me that way.'

'Why not?'

'Because it makes me feel uncomfortable.'

'Well, I'm entirely comfortable with it, hottie.'

In a rage, Rachel landed a zinger on Joel's jaw, sending him tumbling back onto the bike he was working on. 'Don't you dare call me hottie!'

He then stepped closer and taking her head in his hands, planted a huge, disgusting kiss upon her lips. 'Yuck!' she shouted as she pushed him away.

'Yuck?' asked Riker. 'I kiss you and you say yuck?'

'Yes, I say yuck,' she responded. 'I only say yuck because being kissed by you is the most disgusting and revolting thing that's ever happened to me. Besides, I've made a decision to stay pure until marriage, and that means no kissing either.'

'I don't care about your purity! I just want to have fun. You'll learn to respect me soon enough,' he said as he leaned in for another kiss. This time, instead of pushing him away, she landed a swift kick to the groin. Riker fell to the ground in pain.

'That's just what you deserve, you slimeball! My purity is important to me,' shouted Rachel angrily as she turned toward the door. She had just started to unlock it when he grabbed her by the arm and threw her into a chair next to the fireplace, and hit her over the head with a wrench, rendering her unconscious. He then got a rope and proceeded to tie her legs and arms to the chair so she could not escape. He then angrily sat down and continued working on his Orodruin, awaiting her awakening. He was pleased in one thing, that his DVD's for sale sign had fulfilled it's purpose as a diversion.

Chapter V

Orodruin Eruption

At about 3:30 PM, Mad Dog and Jevin entered the garage to find Joel working on the bike and Rachel still unconscious in the chair. 'Hey boss, we're back. Like my uniform?,' questioned Mad Dog, sporting his new uniform with an elastic Hanes underwear band across his forehead.

'What in the blue Brad Pitt is wrong with you?' shouted Joel as he saw the underwear band. 'You're supposed to be Mad Dog, not Jim McMahon!' He then turned to Jevin and upon seeing his tail, shook his head in disgust. 'Good help is so hard to find these days.'

Without warning the tail whipped itself around Joel's neck and began to squeeze. After a few moments of this, it let go and returned behind Jevin's back. 'My tail is nothing to be scoffed at. This is a real man's weapon – it reminds me of Doc Ock's tentacles in Sider-Man 2 – except this is only one – he had four – the lucky bum.'

'Well,' said Joel. 'I suppose I approve of it – you may both work for me as my minions.'

'Awesome,' said Mad Dog. 'I feel like singing Happy Tails, the theme song from Roy Rogers.'

'That was Happy Trails, you idiot,' declared Joel, shaking his head again. 'Now you two, get out of my sight – and Mad Dog is my second in command, just so you know. Go find some banks to rob or something. You have my permission – just go out and entertain yourselves, so long as you're not in my way.'

'Happy Tails to you, until we meet again,' sang Mad Dog. Before he finished the last line, he got stung in the neck by Jevin's tail.

A few minutes after they left, Rachel came to, realizing where she was. 'Oh man, I thought it was just a horrible nightmare.'

Joel turned and walked over to her. 'Hello sweetheart, have a nice beauty sleep? I hope it gave you some common sense too.'

'Shut up, before I punch you again.'

'Ah, but you can't – I tied you up just after I knocked you out. You can't kick me either so I guess I can kiss you without resistance this time.' At this he leaned over her, took her head in his hands, and gave her another disgusting kiss.

Rachel's mind raced for something to do to get his foul lips off of her. Her hands were tied, so she couldn't punch him or slap him. Her legs were tied so she couldn't kick him. There was only one more weapon that she had that she could use – her teeth. She bit down hard, removing his tongue from his mouth, causing it to fall inside of hers. He screamed in pain, falling backwards, as she spit it out into the fireplace.

As it began to burn, the door opened – Zinger stepped inside, smelling burnt flesh. In an instant, he was over to the fireplace, untying Rachel as she told him what happened. 'We'd better get him out of here then,' declared Zinger once he heard her story. 'I've got to get him to the car. Go open the back door, while I get him out there and put him in.'

Rachel did so without hesitation as blood continued to flow from Joel's mouth. Zinger, whose adrenal glands had kicked in, threw Joel over his shoulder, darted out the door and up the stairs. Rachel opened the door just in time for Zinger to throw him in. She shut the door and hopped in the front passenger seat while Zinger got into the driver's seat. Within two minutes they were at the hospital with Zinger lugging Joel inside.

After they had taken him to the emergency room, they exited the hospital and made their way back towards Rachel's car, which they had used to bring Joel to the hospital. Standing next to it, however, was a tall, thin, fair-skinned man of about 25 years of age. 'Agent Zinger!' he shouted. 'My name's Jim Edwards – I've been wanting to meet you. I'm in town on leave from my job in the FBI.'

Rachel couldn't help but stare at the incredibly handsome man. 'What beautiful blue eyes,' she thought.

'I'm just starting out there, so I thought maybe I could get some pointers from you – I looked at all the options, and you seemed the logical choice. And who's this lovely young lady you've got with you?'

Rachel just looked at him, unable to speak. 'This is my friend Rachel,' Zinger said for her. 'A member of the legendary Fellowship of the Nate. I just rescued her from the slimeball that we just took in here. He was kissing her against her will – she made a decision several years ago to stay pure until marriage, including kissing – so she decided to bite off his tongue for his violation.'

'A feisty little one, isn't she? Well, that's good that she's willing to stand up for what she believes in. That is impressive, that she decided that – most people don't care one way or the other.'

'Joel probably would have recovered before long,' said Zinger. 'And I shudder to think what he would have done in his anger. I don't know if she'd be alive – it was a good thing I showed up just then. Joel got what he deserved, that's for sure. He got his tongue cut out, and burnt.'

'You are hostile!' laughed Jim. 'But I'm very glad to meet you, nonetheless. I hope you don't hurt me just for talking to you.'

Rachel simply shook her head, still unable to open her mouth. 'She won't hurt you,' laughed Zinger. 'From the look of things, she couldn't bring herself to.'

'Good,' sighed Jim sarcastically. 'I'd hate to get hurt by a girl.' Rachel glared at him for a moment, but quickly found that she could not be angry at him, no matter how hard she tried, and reverted back to a very satisfied smile.

Chapter VI

Admirations and Admonitions

Zinger sat in the front seat of Rachel's car talking to Jim while Rachel sat in the back gazing at Jim's gorgeous light brown hair. 'At first,' said Jim. 'All that I heard about you was in the negative – people criticizing your beliefs and your methods. I searched and I searched for unbiased material regarding your work – libraries, Barnes & Noble, Christian bookstores – there was nothing. Finally one day I typed in Special Agent Jon Zinger on Google, and I found the Special Agent Jon Zinger Official Website.'

'Ah,' laughed Zinger. 'I gave that crackpot permission to make my website that day because I was simply in a great mood. I haven't even seen or spoken to him since.'

'Well, I found on there several chronicles of your work – one about your first confrontation with Billy Bob, another one about the Denominator, another with Rachel fancying herself to be Darth Vader, and a couple more. I read these, anxious to find some insight on your beliefs, and found that you believe much the same as I do.'

'Wow,' said Zinger. 'I'm glad to see that someone else in law enforcement shares the same beliefs. I'm not at all surprised that everyone spoke negative of me for them. But I am surprised that you found this on the website.'

'It was at that point that I knew it was you that I must see. I knew that you would give me the spiritual side of things as well, not only relying on your own physical assets.'

'Not that I have many of those,' said Zinger. 'But the best piece of advice that I can give you is to stand fast in the faith, pray before and during every case, and value your relationships more than your own life. Those three things are the only reasons that I have been a successful agent – I'd never have gotten anywhere without those three – it seems that every time some blackguard challenges me, he gets the better of me. But there always seems to be divine intervention somewhere, and my friends the Fellowship of the Nate come and they end up saving the day.'

In the middle of all of this, Rachel gave a huge contented sigh in the back of the car. Zinger had to stifle a chuckle as he realized what was going on. But before they could further the conversation, Zinger's cellular telephone emitted a series of electronic sounds equivalent to that of the William Tell Overture by Gioacchino Rossini. 'Zinger,' he answered after he had hooked it up to the car's speaker system.

'Hello Agent Zinger, this is Mad Dog. I'd like to meet you at Howard Sheen field, at the high school.'

'Oh, and why is that?'

'Because we've got the chief – weren't you wondering why you hadn't heard from him? Secondly, because we're partners with Joel Riker on his Orodruin deal – we need to settle with you for taking him out. Meet us at at the football field at 1700 hours – be sure to have a dueling good time.' There was then a click, for Mad Dog had hung up.

'It sounds like I need to bring a sword – let's stop at Ferraro's and I'll buy one real quick.' Zinger pulled the car to a stop and ran into the store – it was a variety store with many old and antique items. He took his time selecting a sword, choosing one that was sturdier and tougher than the others. It was less flashy and fancy, being a long sword, but it would be more than a match for whatever Mad Dog's men had. It was a good thing that Zinger had been taking a sword-fighting class in Erie. Once he paid for it, he ran out of the store with his sword in his scabbard and got back into the car. He drove to the high school and got out. 'Talk to you later, guys – I've got some business to attend to.'

As he walked towards the football field, they sped off to find Nate – Rachel knew they had to rally the Fellowship of the Nate. Half of her mind was still on what she was doing, so she had been able to deduct their reasonable course of action.

Back at the high school, Zinger walked towards the field, wondering what would unfold there.

 Chapter VII

The Way of the Sword

Zinger slowly approached the football field, praying as he went – since the main gate was not open, he would have to go through the zig-zag entrance which was never locked. Once he got through that, he approached the fence that stood between him and the track circle, his sword at his side. The only thing that lay between him and the field now was the turnstile that was connected to the gate. He walked through that, when a voice, from whence he knew not where, told him to raise his sword. Realizing that this voice was the Holy Spirit, he raised his sword without argument.

As soon as he raised the sword, he saw a man stand up on the other side of the field holding a gun. 'Zinger, you idiotic nincompoop – you actually thought that Mad Dog meant swords by “a dueling good time”? Well, I have a gun, and I intend to use it – so.... goodbye.'

The man fired his weapon at Zinger, aiming it directly between his eyes. Zinger held the sword straight up in front of his face as he earnestly prayed for God's protection. The bullet hit the sword and split into two parts, each continuing forward, but their course slightly altered, each barely missing the sides of Zinger's head. The man fired again, but the same thing happened. The bullet hit the sword and split into two, each barely missing each side of Zinger's head.

Zinger continued to pray as the man continued to fire. Without a doubt, Zinger was frightened, but he knew that the Spirit of God would protect him. A verse of scripture sprang to his mind – Isaiah 54:17. 'No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD.' This verse stated that the heritage of the servants of the Lord was that no weapon that was formed against them would prosper. The pistol was being fired upon him, and it was not in any way, prospering.

The man stood, shaking in his boots, firing again and again, until suddenly Mad Dog charged towards him from near the practice field. 'You idiot! I meant swords, not guns by “a dueling good time.” Zinger had it right – you didn't. I don't want to kill him, just settle with him. There's no reason to kill him – we just want to torture him for a while, maybe cut his arm off or something, but not actually kill him.' Mad Dog tore the gun from the man's hand and threw it towards the goalposts – it missed wide left.

'Well, Zinger – I apologize for that idiot's mistake – his favorite mistake, I might add. Anyhow, me and my panel of experts, which consists of me and Jevin, have decided that the best way to settle with you is by using the sword.'

'Panel of nitwits, you mean. But I do like the sword idea rather than the gun.'

'Anyways,' said Mad Dog. 'Let's get on with it – the first two swordsmen, come here. We've got trained swordsmen to fight against you so you'd better watch out.'

'Alright, if you say so,' said Zinger as two men with swords rushed out at him from the same place Mad Dog had come from. He turned to face them as they brandished their swords menacingly. 'If you don't stop shaking your swords, you may poke your eyes out.' Furiously, they charged him and began to hack and to slash, making it look professional, of course. Zinger parried each of their attempts and then himself tried to land a few blows. After a few minutes, one of them cut off a major sliver of his left forearm. 'Just a flesh wound,' he said as he glanced down at it. A few minutes later, the other one cut a large gash in his right wrist. 'I've had worse.'

From that moment, the tide began to turn – it was blatantly obvious that Zinger now had the upper hand. He drove them back across the 30, to the 40, to the 50. He was going all the way to the end zone. Once he crossed over the goal line, he continued to drive them back to the goal post, where he was able to jab at the side of the one. A few moments later, he stabbed the other one in the abdomen. They retreated, and Zinger with an apparent victory raised his sword in triumph.

But the battle was not over – two more fresh swordsmen charged towards Zinger with swords at the ready. Zinger was caught by surprise, and they drove him back to the other end zone. But there was no safety in the end zone in this game. At the one-yard line, Zinger stopped and began to put up a goal-line stand. One of them chopped down on his left shoulder, causing blood to flow. Zinger did not cry out or wince in pain, but simply continued to parry each of their thrusts, as well as dealing a blow to the sword hand of one of them. Then he began to drive them back, slashing into the chest of the other. These too, turned and fled.

Another pair came at Zinger, but this time Zinger expected them, running towards their end of the field. He caught them before they crossed their own 20, ducking and spinning out of the way of their swords. He was right in between them, and they both swung at him – but Zinger nimbly dodged out of their way. They struck each other, opening huge gaping wounds in their arms.

The next pair came at Zinger, being slightly more cautious than the previous two had been. They stood side by side so as to avoid facing each other. They took turns swinging at him, but he parried this thrust and that one until one took him in the knee, sending him to the ground. He rolled swiftly to his feet just in time to block the blade of the other man, who was trying to take advantage of his fall. Zinger cut low, slashing the shins of both men at the same time – victory again.

The next pair came, but Zinger was getting tired and filled with wounds, and could not keep up much longer. He kept up wearily, but it was clear that the other pair had the upper hand. Zinger could not hold out much longer – he knew this. Finally, he was sent the ground, and before he could get up, there was a sword point at his throat. 'I know the boss said not to kill you,' whispered the man, whose name was Joe. 'But I'm getting sick and tired of you, and I don't care what the boss says anymore.' While the other man, whose name was Bob put his sword to Zinger's throat so he wouldn't move, Joe pulled the sword up and prepared to plunge it deep into Zinger's heart.

Chapter VIII

Bona Fide Bedlam

Joe lifted his sword and prepared to plunge it deep into Zinger's heart. Suddenly, a whirling noise came from behind the man and he fell to the ground. A knife protruded from his back – Joe lay slain. Bob pulled back in fear and Zinger pulled himself up to investigate. Carved into the hilt of the knife on both sides was a shape of a panda's head on the end, and the name Panda~Man. 'Thank you, RJ,' whispered Zinger as he turned to see a very extravagant-looking helicopter rising above them. It flew off at top speed back towards California. 'Looks like he has some urgent business to attend to,' observed Zinger.

At that very moment, near the entrance to the football field stood the Fellowship of the Nate, preparing to enter. They held swords, ready to use them, and they all wore their new uniforms. Jack held two swords, for he had been training to use two at once. Jim was there, for he would not be left behind. They had dug up a spare suit that fit him fairly comfortably. Toast stood by wearing the most decent cheerleader uniform in the history of the world.

'Now remember, gang,' said Nate. 'Brain over brawn – mind over muscle. We'll never defeat them by using brute force, but we can certainly vanquish them with our minds. But don't underestimate the power of the sword – it is powerful too. Use it wisely,' and turning to Jack, he said sternly, 'and no decapitations.'

At that they walked out onto the field, Zinger was gazing up at the helicopter watching it disappear into the distance. Bob stood behind Zinger with his sword raised, ready to strike. 'We are the Fellowship of the Nate!' Upon hearing this, Bob turned and dropped his sword in fear. Zinger noticed that Bob would have stabbed him had Nate not showed up at that very moment.

Jack dropped both swords at that moment and picked up Jeremiah, for he had been lifting weights recently. He launched Jeremiah like a javelin towards Bob. The man looked in terror, unable to move, up at Jeremiah coming towards him. 'Nazgul!' Jeremiah shouted as he neared Bob. Whump! Bob was crushed beneath the weight of Jeremiah. Jeremiah stood up, shouting 'I am Benaiah the son of Jehoiada! The man who falls upon people, that they die!' Zinger looked down at Bob, who reminded him of a Beetle Bailey comic, in which Sarge had just beat Beetle up.

At that moment, 10 armed swordsmen charged from the practice field towards the Fellowship of the Nate. Zinger and Jeremiah rushed back to join the rest of the FOTN. As they neared the Fellowship, Mad Dog rushed near, stood in front of the FOTN, and put his hand out towards the group, stopping them. He adjusted the Hanes underwear band on his head and shouted, 'Stop, in the name of underwear, and all that is pre-shrunk and cottony!'

'I'm confused,' declared Zinger. 'Are you supposed to be Mad Dog, Jim McMahon, or Captain Underpants?'

'I have not yet decided,' replied Mad Dog, never turning around. Jevin had, by this time, joined him standing there betwixt the two small armies. 'You all must fight these miscreants who call themselves the Fellowship of the Primate. Oh, excuse me, I meant the Fellowship of the Nate. But you will all risk life and limb – I will not be joining you, but Cluny here will. I will be off to the side, enjoying the wondrous scene that will be unfolding before me.' He walked out from between the armies – Jevin stood in their midst.

Zinger was lined up with the Fellowship of the Nate, wounds notwithstanding. Toast, standing behind them began to jump and to cheer. 'Z-I-Double g-er – the wonderful thing about Zinger is that he's the only one!'

'Actually,' said Zinger, turning to her. 'That's not entirely accurate – there's a man by the name of Jonatan Zinger who lives down in Argentina.'

'Zinger, stand aside,' said Jim. 'Let us take care of them. You've already fought your battle – you are wounded.'

'Not on your life, Jim. I can't let you guys fight them on your own.' Without a word, Rachel landed a zinger to Zinger's forehead with her sword-butt, rendering him unconscious.

'Sorry, but it was for your own good,' she said, looking down at him. Jim dragged him off to the side, where he would not be harmed during the battle. He then returned to the ranks.

Mad Dog stood to the side, preparing to give the order to charge. After a moment, he did – 'Charge!' They began to hack and to slash aggressively at the members of the FOTN. Jack used his two swords to his advantage, taking on two at a time. He drove them away from the rest of the Fellowship, ensuring that he would not accidentally chip one of them with his bi-swordly combat.

Nate had already defeated one of them, hitting them in the head with the flat side of the sword, knocking him out. He wanted to defeat them without killing any more, if at all possible. Without wasting any time, Jim honed in on Jevin and locked swords with him. Jevin gave a bold fight, not giving any ground. They hacked and slashed at each other, neither one giving way. Jim twisted and turned, slashing and thrusting, but Jevin gave a sound fight. Jevin stung Jim two or three times with his tail, causing Jim to reel in pain, but he refused to go down.

Mad Dog went around back of the Fellowship, and approached Toast, who was jumping and cheering some more. 'Hey, hot lips,' said Mad Dog.

'Get out of here, Frank,' she said sarcastically. 'And by the way, I don't think I'm anything like Major Houlihan from M*A*S*H.'

'Well, you're still hot, as toast should be.'

She then reached into the pocket on the inside of her skirt and pulled out the fist. 'Well,' she thought, 'Nate said to aim it at some idiot, and squeeze.' She aimed it at the idiot, squeezed the trigger, and it shot forward at incredible speed. It hit the idiot in the right eye, sending the idiot on his back, unconscious, with a huge bruise developing around his eye. 'And I don't appreciate having an idiot with an underwear band on his head flirting with me!'

Rachel had already taken out three men, cutting huge nicks in the arms of two and removing the nose from another. Jeremiah had taken two out, bouncing one off of his abdomen into another, bumping their heads together. Paul, after a very heated fight, finally broke through and knocked the man's sword out of his hand. Then, he head-butted him so hard that he knocked him out.

Jack knocked the sword out of the hand of one of the men he was fighting, then turned and cut right through the sword of the other. Both men fell to the ground, admitting defeat. Nate, in between thrusts, punched his opponent in the jaw, knocking him the ground. Jim still stood locked with Cluny, absorbing endless stings from his tail. Jevin had his back to the Fellowship, and he was the only villain left standing. Paul dropped his sword and dove into Jevin, tackling him. While Cluny lay on his stomach, Paul grabbed his tail and supplanted it from his backside. Jevin screamed in agony.

One more man came from the practice field bringing the chief with him. 'You have won – I surrender. Take the chief, you've earned him back.' He untied the chief, and the chief rushed towards them. The chief then called on his cell phone for a few ambulances to take the wounded to the hospital.

There's a Lighthouse on a hillside

That overlooks life's sea.

When I'm tosses, it sends out a light,

That I might see.

And the light that shines in darkness now

Will safely lead us o'er.

If it wasn't for the lighthouse,

My ship would be no more

And I thank God for the Lighthouse,

I owe my life to Him.

For Jesus is the Lighthouse,

And from the rocks of sin;

He has shone the light around me

That I might clearly see,

If it wasn't for the Lighthouse,

Where would this ship be?

Everybody that lives about us

Says tear that old Lighthouse down.

For the big ships don't sail that way anymore,

There's no use of it standing round.

Then my mind goes back

To that stormy night, when just in time I saw the light,

Yes, the Light from that old Lighthouse

That stands there on the hill.

And I thank God for the Lighthouse,

I owe my life to Him

For Jesus is the Lighthouse,

And from the rocks of sin;

He has shone the light around me

That I might clearly see,

If it wasn't for the Lighthouse,

Where would this ship be?

And I thank God for the Lighthouse,

I owe my life to Him

For Jesus is the Lighthouse,

And from the rocks of sin;

He has shone the light around me

That I might clearly see,

If it wasn't for the Lighthouse,

Tell me, where would this ship be?

And then my mind goes back

To that stormy night, when just in time I saw the light,

Yes, the light from that old Lighthouse,

Tell me, where would this ship be?