Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
  • Pages:
  • 1
  • 2
Star Wars: Galactic Encounters; It was just a movie... until the Rebels came to Earth
Topic Started: Feb 23 2010, 03:18 AM (1,277 Views)
DPsA
Member Avatar
One and Only Mod
Ooh! I like! :)
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
BaikonurJedi
Member Avatar
The Space Cadet
Thank you! I really hope I succeeded in conveying the "feel" I've always gotten from reading about Skylab, a small, lonely, thoughtful place.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DPsA
Member Avatar
One and Only Mod
:greenangel:
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
BaikonurJedi
Member Avatar
The Space Cadet
First Contact, Part 3

The last letter had been opened, and George Lucas was feeling hopeless. He had typed the letters as neatly as possible, double-checked all the postage details, and checked at the post office anxiously every day for months, hoping for a reply. But now that the studios had finally written back, every single letter had been a short rejection notice.

A Flash Gordon movie would be a financial disaster, they all said. The old serials and comics had been popular in his childhood, but nothing that old or cheesy would ever sell in "these cynical and sophisticated 70s". (Leave it to a Hollywood publicist to come up with an alliterative title that was both positive and negative for a decade that wasn't even halfway over.)

Worst of all, that indicated they hadn't even read past the first paragraph of his proposal. He had spent two pages explaining how his conception of Flash Gordon wouldn't be like that at all. This would be all the themes of classical mythology that he'd studied in school, shot far, far out into space. The timeless Hero's Journey rendered with the latest, most realistic, special effects. The producers all thought the really important thing, the only important thing, about the old Flash Gordon serials was camp.

They were wrong. The important thing was wonder. As a boy, curled up in his bed in Modesto, Lucas had dreamed of flying alongside Flash to distant star systems, battling terrible tyrants with exotic ray-gun weaponry and discovering bizzare wonders around every turn. Modern kids wouldn't be interested in that? Not even now that people really were traveling into space?

According to all of the letters, they wouldn't. He should just make more movies about teens and cars and more ordinary, relatable, matters.

Working out the mind of a producer might have been the work of hours, but for now, it was late, and Lucas was no closer to making a Flash Gordon movie than he had been before making his proposals. There was too much on his mind for sleep to be an option.

So he had thrown on an old bright blue jacket and gone for a walk.

The area around San Anselmo was still pleasantly wooded in some places, and it wasn't a far walk from the house to some thickly forrested hills that had yet to yield to development. The streets were all empty this late, it was after midnight. The calls of night birds could be heard here and there along the old logging trail, the only path into the woods. Small creatures could be heard scratching here and there in the underbrush. A chipmunk scurried across the overgrown trail itself, eyes lighting up in the beam of Lucas' flashlight.

He stopped and turned the light off for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark of the forest. He wanted to let nature swallow him up and calm his mind, he had come to try and forget his troubles.

Dawn would come in a few hours, but for now, stars were visible through openings in the treetops, like silent, twinkling eyes. Lucas tried to pick out constellations, but the tree branches got in the way. As a boy, he had often plotted imaginary courses for bright stars that had caught his eye, imagination transforming his bed into a rocketship, flying him straight into mighty space battles...

And from out of the sky, Lucas saw a light.

It was a streaking flash as something fell through the atmosphere, red-hot. He had seen shooting stars before, but this one did not vanish after a moment. It got brighter and brighter, blazing over Lucas' head with a crackle of air turned to plasma electrifying the night. It was behind the trees how, impacting with a flash as bright as day-

And then, silence.

Cold, unnatural silence as the whole woodland lay in shock at this intrusion.

He was running in the direction of the flash before he knew what was happening, thinking as he ran through the bush. A meteor... part of a giant space rock... fallen to Earth right there, in front of him! Hadn't there been a big one that had hit a forest in Siberia sixty years ago? Lucas vaguely remembered reading something about it in a magazine. That one had hit with the force of an atomic bomb.

This one was smaller, obviously, as he didn't seem to be dead.

Branches snapped in Lucas' face and his flashlight beam swung wildly as he stumbled over roots. A pocket of his jacket caught on a thorn and ripped off a tangle of pale blue thread. It is a strange force, that impulse we call curiosity, and those in its thrall are often the least equipped to explain it.

He reached a clearing and stopped dead in astonishment.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DPsA
Member Avatar
One and Only Mod
I'm definitely hooked! Time to reel me in! lol

I'm lovin this story so far! Keep up the great work!
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
BaikonurJedi
Member Avatar
The Space Cadet
Thank you!
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DPsA
Member Avatar
One and Only Mod
:greenangel:
You're welcome!
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
BaikonurJedi
Member Avatar
The Space Cadet
Okay, I'm going away to Italy on a school trip tomorrow, so I'd better get this posted, just so I can go away knowing I've completed the first chapter... (I use the abbreviation SF here a bit, just in case you didn't know, it means Science Fiction.)

First Contact, Part 4

I must be dreaming, Lucas thought. I've fallen asleep at my desk surrounded by all of the rejection letters, and all of this thinking about Flash Gordon has gone to my head. So any moment now I'm going to wake up, splash some water on my face, and not read or watch any SF for a few days. He lifted his thick glasses to rub his eyes, then pinched himself. It hurt.

But it shouldn't hurt, it couldn't hurt, because that would mean what he was seeing... was real.

A strange, dark aircraft sat on the muddy ground, with strange humming noises coming from it, as if indicating an engine was running. Large black solar panels projected outward menacingly, attached to the round cockpit by a thick structure that looked something like a pair of stubby airplane wings. A large window of dark glass that looked like a cross between a nautical porthole and the rose window of a cathedral was set into the cockpit, staring at Lucas like the evil eye of some robotic cyclops.

This was not a meteorite. This was some man-made thing, gray metal and rivets and strange scorch marks. But it looked like no vehicle Lucas had ever seen. And it had come from space...

Maybe it was going to Skylab. And if it was, George, you should go and help the astronauts get out and see if they need anything. He thought, willing his feet to advance, step by cautious step. It's the smart thing to do, it's your patriotic duty.

But though he thought this to himself, he knew darn well that this spaceship looked nothing like the cone-shaped Apollo capsules he had seen flying to Skylab on TV.

So maybe it's Russian, then. Maybe they're way off-course on the way to one of their own space stations. Didn't I read something about their space station in a magazine last month? And even if they don't speak English, they'll be grateful for some help.

He repeated these two theories to himself, Russian or American, to keep the other theory, the stranger, scarier one, back. Of course he knew the stories about little green men with big eyes who traveled in flying saucers and kidnapped people from their beds. He had heard them countless times from tabloids and talk shows, but he had never believed a word of it. The stories seemed so silly, and the "witnesses" themselves so crazy, that Lucas had never put any stock in them.

Of course, that had been before all of this.

Now he was slowly approaching the spacecraft, and the area around the window appeared to be opening, letting dim light shine through into the dark forest clearing. Inwardly, every reflex was telling Lucas to flee.

Run away before they grab you and knock you out and stick things in nasty places, run away while you still can!

No, no, they could be perfectly normal astronauts or cosmonauts from Earth, and I'm going to help them if they are.


The inner debate between the fleeing and advancing voices froze him on the spot as the hatch opened completely, letting the dim light shine out. And in that light, he could make out movement within, a dark creature was climbing out, lit from beneath, which made it even scarier. Lucas saw that it was at least human-shaped, with a head, arms and legs, and that it was wearing some sort of pressure suit as it climbed out of the cockpit...

The creature stood up, and Lucas got a better look at it. Its helmet had two buglike lenses that hid its eyes, and a long air hose extended from the area near what Lucas guesses its mouth would be. (If it was human, that was. If it was an alien, it might breathe through its feet for all he knew.) The suit and helmet looked familiar, something like a jet pilot's gear, reinforcing the hope that it was Earthly, after all. Perhaps some experimental vehicle?

With its gloved hands, the creature reached up, and pulled off its helmet sharply, revealing...

... a man! An ordinary human face! European in ancestry, with short black hair worn in a sort of crew-cut and green eyes!

See, he's an astronaut, stupid.

"H-hello. My n-name is g-George. C-can I help you in any w-way?" Was he really stuttering? How embarrassing...

"My name is Davin Sinal of Bespin. I don't mean you any harm." The man calmly made eye contact and smiled. "All I need is some fuel for my ship."

Bespin? Where was that? Lucas wracked his brain, trying to recall if he'd ever heard the name before. What language was that, even? It sounded sort of Arabic, or maybe kind of French, but he couldn't recall hearing it before. And Davin Sinal? That didn't sound like a terribly common name either, although the man seemed to speak with an American accent.

"I'll do whatever I can. Were you coming from Skylab? Should I call Houston or somewhere and tell them you're okay?"

"Oh, no, I'd prefer not to reveal my presence. I'm here on a matter of some secrecy and once I get my fuel, I'll be off." The man said, pulling a tool from his belt and examining it in the feeble light that came from the cockpit.

"Off to where? And where's Bespin? Are you an astronaut or not?" The errant thoughts came back, that little voice of fear once again telling Lucas to run before he was caught and probed.

"If you're asking if I'm from your planet, the answer is no. I'm from Bespin, which is a planet on the other side of the Galaxy, and I'm with the Rebellion."

There, he had said it. The man had admitted he was an alien!

But something about that last phrase sounded so enticing and mysterious. What Rebellion? Against whom? Why were they rebelling?

"Rebellion? Look, I don't live that far away-" the words were spilling out of Lucas' mouth before he could stop to consider them "-you can come back and tell me more about your Rebellion and I can help you get your fuel and maybe some food, and by the way, welcome to Earth..."

Yes, it was crazy. He was inviting a space alien into his house. Lucas knew he was being irrational, but his curiosity was too overpowering.

He motioned to the way he had come in, looking back once more at Sinal and his spaceship to make sure it wasn't just an SF-inspired dream. No, the star pilot still was there, removing tools from the cockpit. Once he seemed satisfied with his equipment, he closed the hatch and turned back to accept the offer.

"You're sure no one will find it?"

"Pretty sure. I've never seen anybody else come down the trails, most people don't even know they're here. And certainly not this far into the woods." Lucas readjusted his glasses. "Now then, what about that Rebellion?"

Sinal wasn't sure how to begin. The very idea of a Galactic citizen (And this Earth, although remote, was certainly in the Galaxy) being ignorant of the conflict he had dedicated so much to seemed ludicrous, strange almost to the point of insanity. Well, at least they seemed to understand space travel, they had those small habitats in orbit, and the artifacts on their moon, and the man had mentioned "Skylab", wherever that was (One of the habitats? The moon?)

He pointed up with a gloved hand at the sky between the trees, a lovely late-summer Milky Way that twinkled like pixie dust.

"Near the core of our Galaxy, there is a world called Coruscant. Its whole surface is covered by a massive city, with buildings as tall as mountains. And it is on Coruscant that the Galactic Emperor lives..." Sinal said, explaining as he walked in the way Lucas was indicating.

"Galactic Emperor?" Lucas asked, leading the way.

This is like something out of Flash Gordon...
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Baikonur Jedi
Member Avatar

Delusions, Part One

"We are now living the stories that were dreamed by science-fiction dreamers not more than 20, 30, 40 years ago." - Leonard Nimoy

September 20, 1978, Palmdale, California

"Alright, I've heard a lot about what you guys did or didn't see on Thursday night, and quite frankly, I'm not sure what to believe. That's why I've brought you two in here." The supervisor was a large man, tall, but thick and muscular. Even the jarring shade of coral pink that his polo shirt sported did little to make him seem any less threatening. His dark blue eyes bored into the two younger, tanner men who sat before his desk.

They didn't look particularly disturbed, the supervisor thought. Both wore dark blue shirts and had black hair worn in curly afros. The man sitting on the left was the first to speak up.

"You're not going to fire us, are you?" He asked, eyes surrounded by dark circles. Ricardo had not gotten much sleep in the past few days.

"A lot of people want me to do that, you should know this already. But I've looked back at your records and Johnny's and they're both impeccable. Complete devotion to the STS project, an Employee of the Month nomination, and nothing to indicate you boys are anything short of perfectly sane. Except-" he glared again "-for whatever happened Thursday night. And that's why I want you two to explain exactly what you saw that night. The complete truth, every detail, starting at the very beginning."

"And then what?" The shorter man, Johnny, who had a mustache, asked. The office was dim, with the only light coming in through the closed ventian blinds behind the supervisor.

"And then I'll know if you're lying, or delusional, or what. So I want to hear the full story. Right now. I dont' have all day, those Enterprise test results are still coming in, and they're not going to analyse themselves!"

The two men looked at each other nervously in a long silence. Finally, Ricardo spoke.

"It all started at about 7:30 on Thursday night..."




The small transport shuttle had dropped out of hyperspace just within the orbit of the moon, and quickly turned its cloaking mechanisms on. The ship had started life as the transport for an Old Republic senator who had given his life for the early Rebellion. The cloaking devices had been added by the Alliance, pulled from other ships and transplanted with surprising care, given the circumstances.

Two men were onboard. Their orders were simple- they were to land near the site of Davin Sinal's encounter, investigate Earth's culture and scientific level, and make the populace aware that Leia Organa would soon arrive to begin official negotiations with the planet's leaders.

It had taken five standard years after Sinal's return for sending agents to Earth to become a priority for the leaders of the Rebel Alliance. The evacuation from Yavin had required full attention on their part, but with the preparations for constructing a new base on icy, remote Hoth fully underway, the search for new allies and resources had been renewed.

And this was why Seer Wamboth and Kelvin Duanee found themselves headed for Earth.

"Are you sure this isn't some sort of trap? Can we be sure? It all sounds so strange..." Wamboth asked, not looking up from the ship's controls. He was the older of the two, silver-haired, a native of Alderaan before its destruction and the veteran of many undercover missions. A man like Wamboth trusted very few people. "I mean, textbook baseline humans who speak Basic but have no knowledge of Galactic society and seem to be pre-hyperdrive?"

"What do you think, the Empire populated a whole planet with actors in a functional civilization just to trick us? That's just impractical." The practical and the pragmatic were Kelvin Duanee's domain. When the anthropologist dared to guess, it was never without some sort of supporting fact. "Sinal said these... Terrans, I think was the word, have only the rudiments of a world government. Most of the landmasses are split into about 200 nation-states, with complicated political and economic relationships. Large collections of these nation-states are split along ideological lines in a sort of cold war. However, councils of nation-states bridging this and other divides exist, with the largest and most powerful known as the United Nations-"

"Alright, alright, I didn't ask for the encyclopedia. Where's the region we're supposed to land in?"

"That would be... California."





"Somewhere in space, this may all be happening right now!"

Ricardo ignored the radio, he had heard that commercial dozens of times already, and the task at hand was far more important than a movie he had already seen (twice). He held a small cordless power drill in his hand, red-and-gray colored plastic as he crawled along, checking each screw he found carefully to make sure it was tight.

"Use the Force, Luke!" Johnny quoted, chuckling to himself. "Flyin' through hyperspace ain't like dusting crops, kid!" He was already finished with his share of the work, and now he stood at the edge of the scaffolding, trying to pass the time.

"She's really going to be something when she's done, isn't she?" He said, in a more serious voice, eyeing the construction visible through gaps in its scaffolding cocoon. It was the size of a 747, a patchwork metallic thing patiently coming together like a titanic LEGO set. And the shape that was forming resembled a great geometric bird, an image that became more and more apt with each passing day.

With some squinting and a few pinches of imagination, the vehicle taking shape in Plant 42 was recognizable as the sleek spacecraft seen in so many concept paintings.

"The Next Giant Leap!" the magazines said, and standing there in the quiet factory, Ricardo and Johnny could believe it. Their chance to touch the same greatness that had infused Project Apollo. The Space Transportation System was their chance to bring the program glory once more. Their bird, their baby, a sort of spaceship never before seen-

Columbia.

In many ways, she was everything the Apollo capsule that had been her namesake was not. This was no cramped gumdrop-shaped capsule made to visit the moon once and then retire to a museum after a fiery plop into the Pacific.

No, Columbia and her future sisters were hybrid craft, born to fly as rockets and land as airplanes. And then, after a bit of refurbishing, to be brought once more to the launchpad and launched again. In space, as on Earth, the wisdom of recycling was becoming clear. Rather than a roman candle comprable to a one-shot racecar, they would be sturdy, dependable trucks or freight trains, and once the project reached completion, they would conduct the commerce of the stars.

"Yeah, this is a piece of history right here. History in the making!" As strange as it sounded, Ricardo really didn't have time to step back and think of things like that very often. His job involved small things- bolts, rivets and screws, and in all of that focusing on small things, it was easy, like a conservator painstakingly restoring an ancient fresco in small pieces, to forget the bigger picture.

It took quiet moments like this to make the reality of the Space Shuttle project sink in for the Rockwell employees. But now, as Johnny and Ricardo stared at the unfinished orbiter in silent awe, a montage of all those press statements and concept paintings that they'd seen a million times before played in their heads, large and colorful in the private theater of the mind...

Satellites caught by deft robotic arms, repaired on orbit with gentle care, re-released from the shuttle's payload bay to continue their missions...

Orbiting telescopes, deployed in much the same manner, looking out to the very edge of the Universe in a computer-aided crystal-clear sharpness undreamt of on Earth...

Space stations build piece-by-piece like giant Tinkertoys, solar powered laboratories to live and work in for months at a stretch, spacedocks where ships going further out could be constructed, tested, and sent on their way...

Ordinary people on board, no longer steely-eyed WASPy fighter pilots, but scientists, engineers, doctors, businesspeople, men and women of every background, united in being Earth's best and brightest...

And it would be their bird that would make all of this possible.
Edited by Baikonur Jedi, Aug 22 2010, 01:18 AM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Baikonur Jedi
Member Avatar

Delusions, Part Two

In 1978, the city of Palmdale, and the aircraft faculties in particular, was considered, by the relevant officials, to be reasonably secure militarily. While the level of security paled next to heavy-duty protected zones such as the Nevada test facility popularly known as Area 51 or the White House and Capitol Building in Washington DC, it was coverage the military departments responsable were proud of. The surrounding airspace around the city was carefully monitored for signs of anything suspicious. It wouldn't do to have Soviet spies sneaking in and studying the latest-model fighter planes and their armaments durring construction.

But while the security scanners in place in the area surrounding Palmdale were some of the most advanced in the world at the time, they were several centuries too primitive to spot the cloaked Rebel shuttlecraft approaching the city. No warning system registered so much as a blip as Seer Wamboth brought the spaceship to a careful landing in a forest just outside the city.

Small animals scattered in confusion as the cloaking system was disengaged and the ship abruptly became visible below the tree tops, scrambling franticly across the damp soil to escape. They found cover in the shadows and roots as the sleek, triangular craft lowered itself gently to the ground, using its internal repulsors to counteract gravity. The forest was silent as the landing legs set down, barely disturbing the ground at all.

Shortly afterwards, the two men emerged. Duanee had his datapad and stylus in hand and was rapidly scribbling notes- it was the first time he had set foot on this planet, and he wished to capture every sensory impression for his research. Wamboth, on the other hand, moved slowly, looking about cautiously with his hand never far from his concealed blaster. Being diplomatic didn't mean being a fool.

"Atmosphere- 30% oxygen, 70% nitrogen- typical human world. Judging by the dampness of the soil and-" Duanee paused to sniff the air "- the lingering whiff of humidity, there was a rainstorm earlier today. Skies are blue in the daytime- owing to Zota-Arzule Scattering- but yellow, orange, and red this time of day..." Duanee read the reports from his datapad.

"Yeah... typical... sort of like home, only more..." Wamboth struggled to find the right word as he looked at the distant skyline. The buildings were shaped very differently, but Earth still felt familiar, similar to his destroyed homeworld. "... rustic, maybe?" He had never been very good with words.

"According to what Sinal's local contactee said, this world is a time capsule! A window into how our distant ancestors lived! In most societies, the timespan after space travel but before hyperdrive is incredibly short, never more than a few centuries! To land at such a critical time is like hitting a very, very small bullseye with a randomly thrown dart. We've found a world at such a crossroads, such a critical developmental-" Duanee's voice rose in pitch as his excitement grew.

"Yeah, yeah, save the science talk. We've got to get moving." Wamboth cut him off. Chaos take him, these eggheads would be the death of him one of these days, they didn't know the first thing about stealth.

Leaving their ship to be hidden by the forrest and the night, the two Rebel agents set off, towards the city.





"Are you done yet?" Johnny asked, pacing the floor, still in his hard hat.

"Almost." Ricardo responded from his perch in the scaffolding around Columbia.

"Good, because there's a football game I want to catch."

"Who's playing?"

"Steelers and Raiders."

"Oooh, sounds good, I'll try and watch, too." Ricardo said, still not looking up from his work.

"Yeah, I've got the TV Guide listing right here..." Johnny reached for his back pocket, but found it empty. He grunted and slapped his leg. "Must have left it in the other room when I was talking to Jim. I'd better get it before some cleaning guy takes it. Bill said they took his Rubik's Cube last week when he left it by the coffee machine."

"Tell me when you find it." Ricardo muttered, tightening a screw.




In a nearby hallway, one floor down from the shuttle's assembly room, a janitor pushed along a rolling plastic garbage bin. He bent down to pick up a candy wrapper from the tiled floor, muttering uncharitably to himself about lazy workers who couldn't be bothered to throw away their trash. At least they had the sense to keep their actual working areas clean. If any of those techies left potato chip crumbs near the orbiter, they'd be fired lickety-split, he thought, savoring the image sadistically for a few seconds before walking on...

As the janitor walked past, Wamboth emerged from the shadows, silently signaling Duanee to follow him quickly down another corridor.

"Where's this hangar supposed to be?" He whispered, slightly impatient.

"Um... up that stairwell and then through the second door on the left, actually." Duanee said, checking his datapad.

"Okay, let's get a look at their technology..."





Kelvin Duanee was speechless as he looked upon the partially-completed space shuttle before him. For one long moment, he forgot all scientific discipline and all military duty and simply stared a in silent awe comprable to what an explorer from our world might feel when gazing for the first time at the likeness of a long-lost Pharaoh. His theories were true, this was the culmination, the final proof!

"By the Original Light..." he managed to whisper.

With the enthusiasm of a young child, he franticly began to take holo-recordings with his datapad's holocams in all sorts of wavelengths, grinning from ear-to-ear and energetically scribbling his comments about each recording at lightning speed.

They truly had found a time capsule of a world, a society at such a fascinating and little-understood juncture in technological development! No hoax, no trap could possibly be this detailed! This world was a remarkable discovery for xenoanthropology!

"So, uh, what is this thing?" Wamboth asked, raising an eyebrow. He had not moved from the place near the door where he had stood for the past few minutes, turning his head and squinting at the strange vehicle and trying to figure out why the scientist thought it was such a big deal.

Duanee turned around, still wide-eyed, took several deep breaths to compose himself, and then began, in a rapid, breathless whisper:

"Well, if my theories are correct, that is a transatmospheric orbital shuttlecraft from the Aerospace Age!"

"And the Aerospace Age is..."

"A time early in the development of space travel when the planet's atmosphere and space are still seen as linked realms! See those wings? Those are to help it fly in the atmosphere, to generate lift!"

"You mean, they don't have repulsorlift yet?"

"No, I'd say they're quite a ways away from antigravity. This is a developing society, you must understand-" Duanee gestured with his stylus as he spoke.

"Barbaric is more like it if you ask me." Wamboth scoffed.

Duanee made a disapproving face.

"Oh no. No no no no. There is nothing primitive about that vehicle. That is the highest form of their technology, and it looks like a quite impressive transatmospheric craft."

Wamboth tilted his head and squinted again.

"So, uh... what does this shuttlecraft do? Doesn't look much like our transport shuttles." He scratched his neck in puzzlement.

"Well, that area over there-" Duanee pointed with his datapad's stylus "-looks like it could be a cockpit. And I think this long area between the wings is a cargo bay, in which any number of things could be transported. So I suppose it a freighter, built to haul cargo into low orbit, perhaps to those space stations Sinal's contactee described- Skylab and Salyut, I think he said they were called? Although it looks as though it could be a fair fighter, too..."

"A fighter?" Wanboth squinted yet again, trying to picture it. He really wasn't a scientist, and the odd-looking contraption below didn't really look all that special to him.

"Seer," Duanee turned to his companion, his voice rising "I don't think you quite understand JUST HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS!" he snapped uncharacteristically, his voice echoing through the hangar.
Edited by Baikonur Jedi, Oct 8 2010, 01:06 AM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
DealsFor.me - The best sales, coupons, and discounts for you
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Stories by Everyone Else!! :P · Next Topic »
Add Reply
  • Pages:
  • 1
  • 2

The Underground created by Sarah & Delirium