Showing posts with label star wars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label star wars. Show all posts

Monday, March 17, 2025

My Blathervation with Ken Napzok

I've been having a good time posting clips from this fun chat with Ken Napzok almost 2 years ago for his series #The Blathering on @YouTube. One of my favorite conversations ever in many ways - well, favorite recorded convos anyway. We both got very honest and candid about struggles we have as people, as men and more.

Ostensibly we connected over our love of Star Wars and Wrestling, but as we've become friends (one day even the kind of friends that get to sit down and share some coffee in like person!) we've found wider interests and shared opinions about the state of the world. Toxic Masculinity. Finding our place in society. How we changed as men over the years.

And vulnerability. My good ness we showed vulnerability.

Of course, we also were funny and used some curse words. So don't worry, it's not just 2 gray beards kvetching about the state of the world.

Though we do that too.

Please check out the video here. Or if you'd prefer, all of Ken's work is available as audio podcasts on every major streaming platform.



Ken is a great person and a good friend. Please consider giving his Channel a SUBSCRIBE and "Smash that Like Button". Also, check out his BOOK Why I Love Star Wars, a collection of Essays about our Favorite Galaxy Far, Far Away.

Let's do this again soon Ken. Either on your show or Mine (once I finally get it going of course)

AK

BOOKS

Monday, March 10, 2025

Why Do We Tell Stories?


The most cynical of us these days say "All the good stories have been told!" or "Nothing original is being made anymore!" Or my favorite, "Why are they retelling the same stories but just changing the gender / sexuality / race of these characters?"

Do a quick search on YouTube and you'll find a handful of smart looking people giving Ted Talks and Video Essays about this very topic. Some of them are cogent, others maybe a bit heady for the casual viewer.

But it is an important question.

In truth, I think the better question is "Why are we drawn to stories?"

And in my opinion, the answer is simple: We want to see people we can connect with struggle with adversity and over coming their obstacles. Because it shows US that WE can do it too.


Stories are about connection. About conflict. About the power of love. The sting of betrayal. The rise of power at the expense of the weak. 

Stories are told in all kind of mediums. The best of them connect to us in ways where we feel the most seen as people. All kinds of people. This alone is WHY it's so important for stories to be re-told, re-imagined and Re-interpreted for new generations as the world changes and evolves. The type of movies and shows we watched in the 1980s were formative for us in those days but don't connect as well to current generations. Doesn't necessarily make them bad stories or "Inappropriate in theme." It just means that at their core it's fine to find the thesis point, the nugget of truth in that story and re-create it for the generations today and forward.

Now it's important to remember that some stories aren't for everyone.

And that's okay.

We're allowed to like / not like whatever speaks to us the most. For example, I absolutely, unequivocally cannot get into any version of Game of Thrones. Neither the show nor the novels.  This is a genre that is right up my alley. I love swords and horses fantasy. I love high adventure. I love in depth writing. And yet, the GOT original novel is one of the few that I've ever stopped reading voluntarily and put aside. I watched the pilot episode, acknowledged that it was very well made, performed and produced... and never checked into the next episode.

I don't know. Just never worked for me.  

What's not okay - and here's where I prepare for vitriol and hateful messages - is prejudging a program / novel / show before you even get the chance to consume it.

I want to declare up front and with full admission - I have been, continue to be and will again be SO GUILTY OF DOING THIS.

This type of attitude and behavior does not only the story in question, but yourself a disservice. Who knows how many shows or books I've dismissed out of hand before even giving it a fair shot.

We all know the worst types of these people too. Again, YouTube - there's a whole cottage industry of assholes whose whole purpose is to nitpick, shit on, or rage bait their way to popularity by tearing down popular pieces of film / television and feeding into the baser instincts of a small minded audience who only wants the type of story that appeals to their narrow viewpoint. Which is typically male. Usually white. And certainly straight as a board. 

Now I'm not gonna put any of these people or channels on blast. Frankly they don't need me driving any more eyeballs to their work. Moreover, if you've read this far and are still interested - odds are you already have an idea of the kind of groups I'm talking about and aren't someone whom I'm trying to connect with here.

The important thing is to understand that just because a story may not speak directly to you, that YOU might not be able to connect to it - doesn't mean that someone else isn't finding joy, hope or purpose from the character's journey.


What's that? You think Rey is a Mary Sue that's only in Star Wars because of agendas and woke-culture? Well, to so many people (many of them young girls) Rey is a symbol or hope, of self-empowerment who literally raised herself from nothing to find her place in the world. That's powerful.


What's that? You think that Sam Wilson becoming Captain America is dumb because he doesn't even have the Super Soldier Serum and not in any way because he happens to be a black man?  Well in a conflicted and frankly overmilitarized country like the United States of America where old racist feelings are swelling to the surface in the most disgusting and base manners, the character of Sam Wilson choosing to accept the shield in the hopes of being a healer, someone who bridges the gap between the fractured parts of that country is a powerful message. Especially choosing to do it without being the strongest or fastest person, choosing to be a symbol for everyone. 


And don't me started about the ongoing power of professional wrestling and the never ending morality play that takes place between those ropes for millions of people around the world. Showing good people making bad choices. Bad people wanting to better themselves. The selfish learning humility. The best of us making the choice to abandon their principles when they seem to have run out of options.

We connect to characters who show us something about ourselves. We want those characters to achieve their goals and find peace or prosperity or love or connection. 

We need these characters to succeed in some way, so they can show us the way when we need it most.

That's why we tell stories.

Speaking of stories, I got BOOKS. And I'd appreciate it if you gave them a read. 

AK

SHIRTS






Sunday, February 23, 2025

The Importance of Hockey in Canada, Plus the War on Dad Blog


Lets get the Workout Review out of the Way - Short and Sweet:

Biceps w/Back - Feb 22, 2025
Close Grip Pull Down - 180 x 12, 12, 10, 9 (getting stronger, feels decent, good stretch reps)
EZ Bar Curl - 80lb x 12, 12, 12, 12 (I can totally go heavier but I really like the burn / pump by set 4)
DB Curls - 30lb x 15, 15, 15,15 (final set was HARD in the best way, excellent pump)
Lat Pressdown / FacePull Superset - 50 x 15, 15, 15 (simple auxiliary work, remains functions, rear delts really respond to this)
Mach Preacher - 1 arm 65 x 10, 10 ; 2 Arm 125 x 8, 8 (just toast by now)
Cardio - Multiple dog walks, My knee was aching from yesterdays activity

There. That's done. My sleep schedule over the weekends are all messed up as I transition from nights to days and back to nights within 48 hours. It's the shits, to put it plainly. But, I'm grateful for the work as I make strides to better myself and expand my reach online to hopefully draw a wider audience outside of the perimeter.

Fingers crossed.

So obviously the biggest sports story of the week seemed to be the culmination of the 4 Nations Face Off, put forth by the NHL and the NHLPA in hopes of having some form of "best on best hockey" once again for the public. I will admit first and foremost - I was skeptical of this idea because since pulling players out of the Olympic programs in 2010, any attempt to have this kind of spectacle was met with  lackluster effort at best and bloated tickets prices for frankly worthless games.

Also, in complete honesty - I was terrified to have some of the best players from my home Winnipeg Jets club take part in this tournament and risk getting injured before returning to play for the club team. No matter what the talking heads on TSN or SPORTSNET won't tell you, the Jets are the Best Team in the NHL this season and remain on a hot streak (9 wins in a row, franchise record baby!!) So the prospect of sending out the Best Goalie playing today, our Norris Candidate D-Man and one of the top scorers in the league to play in - what I perceived to be - a nothing tournament gave me all kinds of "No Thanks" vibes.

But then a funny thing happened.

Turns out, these players showed up with chips on their shoulders and a desire to prove themselves.

Was this strictly a matter of professional pride? Of work ethic? Ego?

Almost certainly yes to all 3 of those things.

But also, the state of the world since January the 20th has been volatile to say the least. And feeling the energy and vitriol from the Tangerine Palpatine and his henchman Lord of the Pale, DOGE Vader has caused all kinds of uproar, anger and resentment.

And that's just amongst the redcap wearing people who VOTED for this clown... Twice.

So with all the snark and animosity around ridiculous tariffs, threats (yes, THREATS) about becoming a "51st State" there were some pretty high tensions going into these important Games.

Which is when a funny started to happen.

For the first time in a long time, there has been an swell of National Pride and Unity amongst Canadians.

While nothing is perfect and our different provinces and regions still have a lot of shit to work out as we fight our own internal battle with rising fascist tendencies and the desire for easy solution to complex problems being promised by career politicians who only want to cut programs from people who need them: It has been nice to see EVERYONE Rallying behind the Maple Leaf as we entered into Thursday nights' CANADA vs USA hockey game.

Word on the street from people I know who were in attendance at TD Gardens in Boston (shout out to you @Husterama) was that animosity was thick in the air. The Canadians in attendance were being bombarded with more than a gentle, playful sense of friendly competition lets just say.


So when the Overtime period began and Connor By God McDavid scored the series winner you could FEEL the elation from across our great nation. Tears flowed,  beers were poured, maple syrup was spilled everywhere, cobra chickens took flight  … but most importantly, Canada was United for a purpose.

And that's IMPORTANT. Unity in something we love and are so damned passionate about means that there truly is more that brings us Together than the differences of opinion that separate us.

There's still a long way to go. Some well-intentioned shit disturbers (Honk, Honk) have to be called to task and some well-intentioned lovers of science and reason (yeah, I'm one of these) have to turn on our listening ears so that we can do what those player draped in the Red and White did last Thursday night.

Come Together as the true North, Strong and Free.

Yeah. This Blog is gonna get political now and again. I have thoughts and feelings and they're gonna piss people off sometimes. So just "Get in the Comments" and vent away. Or don't read. That's your prerogative as well.

Okay. Enough for now.

O, Canada.

AK

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Friday, February 21, 2025

War on Dad Blog: Legs and Cardio

Honestly, it's not any more exciting than that. My sleep pattern is all messed up due to the graveyard shifts at work, so even on my days off I'm sleeping in 3-4 hour blocks (in fact once I'm done this quick recap I will be laying my Big Fella butt down for a nap). So after being up at like 430am and selling around the place, tidying up, having coffee, listening to recaps of the Can/USA Hockey game - i finally got my stuff together and went out to the gym.

Props to Goodlife Garden City. Not my usual location but a nice change of pace. And amazingly enough, it was very quiet and not overly busy at 830am when I got there.

Wanted to push my legs just a bit more than I have recently. Again, paying attention to my knees and hips and lower back, especially as I'm getting into the ring to train a bit more regularly, recovery and joint protection are a must for me these days. Even still, only slightly more workload than before (and nowhere NEAR what I was doing even 3 months ago).

Legs, Core and Cardio - Feb 21, 2025
Hip Adductors
- "205" x 20, 20, 20 (really good squeeze)
Seated Leg Curl - "115" x 12, 12, 12 (Seated definitely feels better than Laying / standing single legs -  a real difference)
Seated Quad Extentions - "85" x 12, 12, 12 (Happy with how my knees felt, this is always the exercise that is worst for me so staying at this weight makes sense - might add another set / reps next time)
Seated Leg Press Machine - 150 x 12, 170 x 12, 190 x 12, 210 x 12, 230 x 12 (Stopped here even though I could keep going, focusing on stretch at the bottom)
DB RDLs - 55lb x 12, 12 12, 12 (easy, slow reps, lots of stretch)
Hyper Extension / Knee Lifts / Machine Crunches - 2 sets of 15 each
Treadmill - 60 mins, 2.6 mph, 4% incline

Overall a good, safe workout. Nothing wild or crazy. It's tough on the ole ego to do the seated leg press machine after years of heavy plate loaded Leg Presses and attempts at squats. But, I like the way this feels on my legs better. Maybe I'll switch back at some point, but not right now.

Naptime shortly. I've had a chicken wrap and some protein, but recovery includes rest. So, siesta it is.


To save time and links, please visit my LINKTREE for my BOOKS and SHIRTS and all other stuff you might be interested in. Or just save the RSS feed on this blog and hang out. That works too.


AK

Thursday, February 20, 2025

Back To Writing News

I mean, few things are as Satisfying as UnBoxing fresh copies of my books.


Yes, this is the first book in my "Overdrive Series" and I am exceedingly proud of it. Been too long since I've had physical copies of them on hand.

So now I leave it up to YOU to take them off my hands.

At all upcoming events I will be offering signed and personalized copies for $30. Should you be unable to attend any events, leave a comment or DM me on Instagram and we'll make an arrangement to get a copy in your hands ASAP.

And if all else fails, you can order yourself a copy HERE and have me personalize it down the line. Whatever works for you.

Thanks all.

AK




Wednesday, February 19, 2025

War on Dad Blog: Relocating to Here

After a week-ish of trying to keep both blogs updated I soon realized what a complete pain in the ass that is. And frankly an unnecessary one. Even though the goal was to keep this page for Creative and Wrestling related endeavors, there's no good reason to dismiss my Workout Reviews / Accountability recordings from this site.

Besides. It's good content for the algorithm. Buy my books and merch you filthy animals. Or sponsor me online to do more fitness challenges for a "man of a certain age" … being uh, Middle Aged.

So yeah, here's where I'll recap / show my workout log for recent efforts. Is it exciting? Probably only to me and a few people who wonder how I keep my body moving after 30 years of heavy impacts in and out of a 18x18 steel and plywood structure. If anyone has any questions about these, please leave'em in the comments or post'em to my socials. I'll answer anyone who's serious and tell the haters to bugger off (but like, less British-ly).

In short, I'm focusing on some higher reps, shorter rest breaks and really trying to concentrate on negative reps and stretches over the contraction. Obviously I've got a few LBs to trim from the midsection so I'm tracking the majority of my calories over a week to maintain a slight deficit and adding more lower impact cardio to my regular routine. I've been focusing on this pretty consistently for the past 3 weeks and have been pleased with early results. As always, the toughest thing is to not let my ego get in the way and insist on More Weight and fewer reps. I've had that kinda fun, but it's generally not productive for my body and goals at this point.

My regular split is modified after a Push / Pul l/ Legs ideology. A few years back this would've meant a 6 day turn around for me with only a pittance of a rest day. These days I am not as worried about that. If I end up only lifting 3x a week or every other day? Perfect. I'm hitting my muscles often enough to feel growth and progress while making sure I have enough time to recover - especially in a slight deficit. These days I feel that weakness and low energy in a big way so, I try my best to listen to my body and push it up to it's limits for that day, not what they used to be when I was 30 years old.

Anyways, here's my Push Day from Feb 18th at around 930PM - Shout out to Goodlife Fitness on Regent for their excellent staff and facility as usual.

Chest and Shoulders w/ Triceps
Peck Deck - "175" x 12, 12, 12, 12 (Trying for wide sweeping reps, lots of stretch)
Inc Smith Press - 205lb x 8, 8, 8, 5 (always humbling doing this 2nd, much better pump though)
DB Side Lat Raise - 30lb x 12, 12, 12, 12 (maybe add some more reps next week)
OHP Machine - "80" x 12, 90 x 12, 12 (still tough on my left shoulder joint, but glad to be doing these again)
Cable Side Lat Raise - "15" x 12, 12, 12 (terrific burnout, so humbling)
Rev Grip Tricep Extension - "50" x 20, 20, 20, 20, 20 (just pure stretch and pump)
30 Min Treadmill 3% incline, 2.6mph


Once upon a time I'd have disdained using so many machines. But these days, I find them so much more effective for my recovery and muscle development. Occasionally I may change it up and switch to a DB Press or a regular Barbell Press, but nothing feels quite the same as the ability to just push until I can't on the Smith Machine. That 4th set was a true fail, without the pins I'd have been in trouble.

Anyways, that was the lift. I don't know how regularly I'll post these but I do intend to bring them all under one blog, just for simplicity's sake. Maybe no one cares but me, but that's enough.


Reminder, Blaze Pro Wrestling's: No Regrets on Feb 28th in Winnipeg. Follow the link to get your advance tickets now. Our last show before X-Mas was completely sold out, so don't be stuck out in the cold. 


Visit my PWTees Shop for specific designs you can only find there. Also, if you want one of the special "30th ANNIVERSARY TEES" I have on order, hit the Comments or my DMs (easy now) to reserve your size. 


Don't forget about my BOOKS. I know that billionaires are ruining international relations right now, but the Amazon Author Groups do a fine job with my products. So please, order a copy. I'll be happy to sign it for you.

Okay, I'm out of words. Later.

AK

Monday, February 17, 2025

Where Do We Go From Here?

More than just a poppy tune from the classic episode of a cult TV show, the title of this blog asks an important question of myself.

One that I've pondered many times over the last decade or so.

When I broke into wrestling in 1995 the thought of still lacing up my boots and getting into the ring in my late 40s seemed preposterous. Hell, as I turned the corner on 30 I'd started to refer to myself as the "Old Man" of the Central Canadian circuit.

Oh hubris … you cruel bitch.

The fact is that I've had many milestones and life events where I figured - this is it. This is the time to quit. Now, in this moment.

And somehow - for some reason - I persist.

I have nothing left to prove. I have few challenges left to conquer. I have a decent reputation amongst my peers across the industry for those familiar with my work. Moreover, I have no illusions that one of the major wrestling companies will suddenly pluck me from the indies and offer me a lucrative deal to perform on the road (Though, if anyone from WWE / AEW / TNA are wondering - yes, I would consider an offer.)

During 2 years of COVID Lockdown I - like many - put everything on hold, obviously including grappling in close quarters with other people in front of crowds. In many ways I thought for sure, this is the end. What would I come back to?

And for a time, I thought that was the case. I was wrestling, but not particularly enjoying the process. In fairness, I wasn't enjoying many things in my life at that time. Wrestling amongst them.

But now?

Man … I'm having fun again.

What Billy Blaze and his partners have done with @BlazeProWrestling has been so encouraging. Investing in presentation, product and most importantly - a legitimate facility to have regular training sessions has been a game changer. Having the privilege to lace up my boots and work with some hungry up and comers, polish the rough corners of some more experienced types, and just work on myself and my game has been so rewarding. 

Yeah. It's harder at my age. Yeah. I'm beat up and heavier than I was in my youth.

Turns out though, I'm having more fun in the ring now than I've had in maybe a decade or more.

So. Where do we go from here?

First stop; "Blaze Pro Wrestling's: No Regrets " Feb 28th, 480 Tissot St in Winnipeg. The BPW


The BPW Founder, my recent rival but better friend Billy Blaze and I will be taking on Big Cliff and The Masked Menace in what should be a violent, final encounter. Big Cliff has been a thorn in my side for months now, so... it's time to end this. 

Other standouts on the card? BPW Provincial Champion MENTALLO will defend his title! El Blanco Diablo will face veteran Bobby Collins. Plus, Cory Diamond, fan-favorite Mustachio and more will be in action!


At the event you'll have the chance to get your hands on print copies of my debut novel COWBOY ENDING that I'll be happy to sign and personalize for the CanLit Urban Fantasy reader in your family.

Also, the anticipated OUTLAW 30TH Anniversary Shirt will be available in Limited Sizes - thanks to Cory and the crew at Floodway Print Co for their continued quality work and service. 
After that?

Well, I've been enjoying dusting out the brain cobwebs by working on my blogs (this one and of course the War on Dad Blog). While it's nice to have these going again, the purpose is to get the ball rolling forward on the 4th Book in my Overdrive series. For those who've been waiting? I'm sorry. For those who haven't been, hey - I also write books!!

Finally - because Gods Hate a Coward - I think I'm actually gonna pull the trigger on launching a podcast. For the longest time I've hesitated thinking it was too hard, I don't have anything to say, there are too many podcasts … All of that is nonsense. I like to talk about the things I like, I know many people who'd like to talk about them with me on occasion.

So screw it.

Keep an eye out for "Ringside Ramblings with Adam Knight" where I'll talk about the creative process, people on a fitness journey, and of course what's happening in the world of pro wrestling. The goal is to launch Episode Zero by the end of March. So please, be sure to give it a Like / Follow / Subscribe and all that other online stuff.

So yeah. That's where we go from here. The "Back 9" of my in ring time continues so long as I keep having fun.

And I'm having fun.

AK




Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Passing Things on to the Next Generation, Intentionally or Not

Yeah, Yeah. It's been awhile. Whatever.

Moving on.

For the entirety of my daughters still very young life, I have said the same hope for her when it comes to my life in Pro Wrestling. 

"Ugh, yeah. My Dad used to do that stuff. It's so weird."

This is what I'd hoped that she would say.

Fervently hoped.

Still hope.

Yet here we are now watching WWE RAW on Netflix together. She has a zillion questions about how things work. Who the stars are? Who makes the costumes? Is it fun to ring announce? 

To my gratitude, at present the one question I am dreading has yet to be asked.

"Papa, could I be a wrestler?"

Just writing that makes my heart skip a beat.

Because, I am conflicted. So conflicted.

Yes, in 2025 the wrestling landscape has changed. While obviously there are still so many carny, scuzz-ball types that will try to take advantage of anyone and everybody (especially young girls just trying to break into the industry - not naming any names here, you know who you are) I would be a complete liar to suggest that things aren't significantly better for women in the wrestling business today.

On RAW alone I'm watching back to back segments where the ladies are front and centre having competitive battles for their own needs - and not just as Bechtel Test failures. Toni Storm and the ladies on AEW are killing it creatively and athletically. TNA has been pioneering with their ladies division for years and producing top notch stars. STARDOM in Japan remains a haven for the ladies. SHIMMER in the states, CMLL in Mexico, Premier British Wrestling in the UK … its truly a viable option.

And yet... I remember what it was like. I remember seeing (and being too cowardly to stop) ladies being taken advantage of by small minded assholes in perceived positions of power. I've spoken to ladies from the generations before me and heard their tales of woe and despair.

So yes. I am conflicted.

At some point, my little angel may (or please Lord, please) may not ask the question about getting more involved. As of now, just occasionally coming to family-friendly shows that her Papa is on, acting like a clown and trying to put smiles on faces is enough for her.

But I see the spark in her eyes. I see the interest.

She is a performer. She loves to be athletic.

Heaven help me, she could do it if she wanted to.

And she'd learn to be good at it.

I never wanted this for her. In fact I tried to keep it from her. When she was younger I never watched wrestling in the house. I loved that she was into what she liked and tried to encourage her own interests, without input from this big dork. I still do that. Listen to her music. Watch her shows with her. Volunteer at her dance recitals. All of it.

In truth when she was born I honestly believed that I'd be done wrestling by now. Figured it would never come up because all my stuff would be buried in the back of my closet never to be brought out again.

Yet here I am, celebrating 30 years of in ring activity, having more fun doing the job than I have in many years.

Which is probably why my daughter is so curious about it now.

This is the 3rd pro wrestling boom I have been a part of. Everything goes in waves as the industry ebbs and flows. Right now indy shows all over the world are thriving in tune with what the larger companies are fueling. As such, there's a lot of mainstream interest.

Eventually that will slow, and when it does, general interest will fade.

Maybe my daughter's interest will fade as well. Maybe it won't.

All I can do is protect her the best I know how and encourage her to make the best decisions she can for herself and her future.

Whatever that may be.

I love my little girl. I will protect and support her no matter what.

But I do not need or want her following in my footsteps. This has been my journey, warts and all - and I've had / am having a good time with it. 

Her Journey is Hers Alone.

I just hope she's smarter than her Papa, is all.

AK

BOOKS 
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Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Ending The Year with Intention

Here I am sitting on my couch in December of 2023. Another year come and gone. Highlights and low lights and more behind me and a whole future of tomorrows ahead of us all.

Like many, I wonder what the future holds.

Unlike many, I think I know what I no longer want it to hold.

I want it to hold less uncertainty. Less self-doubt and recriminations. Less fear.

The last 2 years have been full of personal loss, life changes and other emotional turmoil. I've been so hard on myself in ways and have done everything I can to be a better person, to do more things to make me a better me.

Yeah. Sounds selfish. And it is.

But I want to be a better man. A better father. Better partner. Better wrestler / writer / author.

The trick is, I've been trying to do all of those things at once. And its not easy.

So... the time is now to narrow my focus for a bit. to streamline my online presence. to focus in on the areas that I find the most fulfillment. the areas that I will be the most committed to. 

Because those are the paths that will bring me joy. 

And with joy, will come its own reward.

I'm gonna do my best to be more diligent with my posting. To ignore the noise and to focus on what matters.

At the end of the day, that's all any of us can do.

Stay Tuned for more

Please check the links along the side for my Books and PWTees page. I appreciate all the eyeballs and attention you give me. 

AK

Thursday, September 28, 2023

Top 3 Book Recommendations for September 2023

As I slog through my life and begin to get back to work on my own creative endeavors it seems fitting to take time to plug and give thanks to some of the other authors and creators who've helped to inspire and entertain me during this phase.

#1 Don Winslow's "The FORCE" is a harrowing tale of corruption, violence and intrigue within the politics and police of New York City. Unlike anything I'd ever read before and I absolutely could not put it down. Hit the link and Order your copy Today!









#2 "Why We Love Star Wars" by Ken Napzok. An absolute must for anyone who grew up on any version of the stories told in that Galaxy Far, Far Away. A series of essays and ideas inspired by all things Star Wars, an emotional deep dive on themes and scenes that stick out for us all, and an excellent insight into the mind of someone who found resonance in these iconic tales.










#3 "Everything Fat Loss: The Definitive No Bullsh*t Guide" By Ben Carpenter


Those who are into fitness and weight loss know full well just what a minefield the social media influencer landscape can be for all kinds of topics. Ben Carpenter is a no nonsense voice of reason within that space and has made it his mission to debunk the bullshit and give only the straight goods. This book is backed by hundreds of studies (that you can actually find links to and read for yourself) making it for my money the best and most complete book ever written on this topic. Please order yourself a copy today!









That's all for today. See you again in October for more recommendations. 

AK


Thursday, July 7, 2022

Power of the Light Side

So our friends over at the ForceCenter Podcast have put out a call for those of us within the community to share their thoughts and ideas of how Star Wars has brought the Light Side into our lives. Or how it has  elevated our understanding of things in life via the space fantasy / melodramatic metaphors we find from the stories told in a galaxy far, far away.

Given the things happening in my life right now, it's probably not surprising this is what's on my mind:

Sometime in the winter of 1983 my dad surprised me one evening and said "We're going to go to the movies." While I'd certainly watched movies with Dad before hand - usually whatever happened to be playing on one of the 5 channels available to us over the Winnipeg airwave rebroadcasts -  this was a special thing. We were going out to the theatres! A special trip, just me and my dad to the (locally) famous Metropolitan Theatre in the heart of downtown.

Turns out (spoiler alert), it was a double feature of Star Wars and the Empire Strikes Back. 

Watching on the big screen the adventures, the fun, the fear and the tragedy of those first 2 life-changing movies not only left an indelible mark on the way I look at the world, but created a real bond between myself and my dad. 

It's not an uncommon thing for sons to have trouble connecting with their parents, clearly. My father's upbringing was rougher than mine from a different era. And while he always treated me fairly and with love, I often grew up feeling like he and I were different. That we were interested in different things and didn't have very much in common.

Turns out - naturally - that as I gained life experience of my own that obviously we are very similar. We have shared interests, ideas, perspectives and are undeniably bonded in ways that go beyond our love of "westerns in space that tell family dramas in a succinct, spiritual format."

As such, being able to introduce my dad to the Mandalorian while I was recovering from a minor procedure took me back to being (almost) 7 years old. Watching his eyes light up and his smile broaden as Din Djarin and IG-11 mowed down that town of Child Rustlers in the most sci-fi realization of a classic western shootout I've ever seen committed to digital film was simply magical. Seeing him relive his own childhood in that moment, seeing his mind expand and his imagination awaken because of Star Wars rekindled the bond between us that honestly never left, but ebbed and flowed over time as everything does. 

That afternoon with him was one of the best times of my life.

As I write this my father is nearing the end of his time with us. No bacta tank or teched out mod will be able to keep him from passing on into the Force. But through the tears I am smiling. Because we are meant to grow beyond the paths they lay for us, as my daughter one day will do to me. Obviously there are many other important things that Dad gave and taught me beyond our oftentimes silly space shows, but being able to revisit something he'd shared with me that meant so much to the both of us ... well, it's just another way of knowing that "No one's ever really gone."

Thank you for reading. If my words today have moved you in any way please consider supporting a local Cancer Care Charity of your choosing. For example the good people at the Canadian Cancer Society are doing tremendous work in difficult times to provide help to as many suffering people as possible.

#MTFBWY

AK

Thursday, May 12, 2022

Okay, so... It's been Awhile

Life is funny in the sense that I'm constantly trying to think of new things to work on and manage that somewhere along the way I forget that I've already started things that I need to get back to. This blog being one of them.

Since last I posted anything I've been working with a group of Indie Authors putting together an compilation of Fantasy / Sci-Fi short stories - of which Joe's Shanghai adventure "International Incident" will be a part of (in 2 parts since well, it's a bit longer than most of the other tales.) This compilation will be FREE to download on Amazon Kindle on May 23, 2022. I'll get the links attached when it's ready.

Book 4 of Overdrive is going - slowly as is my usual stop/start bullshit process. I've got a good chunk of the beginning going and I quite like my outline. I'm considering adapting my process a bit and doing things in more of a start a chapter, write what's in my head, then make notes for what else needs to happen in this section - then immediately move onto the next chapter and do the same thing. I've heard of this "hatchet process" working well for other writers but it makes me nervous. I've always tried to write in a linear fashion whereas this kinda feels like an extended Layout. Though, in my head it's probably more like a literary story board.

Whatever. The point remains - people are asking for the next book and I'm just dicking around with it instead of actually putting in the work. I'll get there.

Finally I am considering hiring a proofreader / editor for the first 3 books of Joe's adventures to fine toothed comb them. The most common criticism I get with my books is that - well - they've all been written and edited by me. So it's easier for me to miss things than an objective eye (or my readers) would. If / when I go this route I am also considering finding a new cover artist and repackaging my books for a 2nd edition Re-Release. Not that I'm unhappy at ALL with the work that Dar Dixon has done for me. Just that if I'm going to relaunch the titles, perhaps I should start'em again from scratch in a way. Time it for a release with Book 4 when she's ready to go.

I'll keep you (in theory) up to date. Provided I don't fall down a 1000 Star Wars rabbit holes what with Kenobi about to come out on D+.

AK

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

International Incident: A Queen's Guard Story


This story takes place about 6 months after the events of "Prairie Fire" Book 3 of Overdrive, so first time readers might be a bit lost.

If this is the first taste you're having of my creative writing, welcome! Links to my books are on the right hand side of the blog. Please consider giving them a look, ordering them in Paperback / eBook or trying them on Kindle Unlimited if you're an Amazon PRIME member. 

Thank you all for taking the time to read my words. Please comment below with any ideas or questions you might have, I promise to respond to them all while I get to work on the next chapter in Joe's ongoing adventures in Book 4: "Power Play."



*****

International Incident

A Story of the Queen’s Guard

By Adam Knight

Light pierced my eyes, forcing me to cry out in spite of the long-forgotten promise to give these monsters no such satisfaction. I was too dehydrated to weep but would’ve welcomed the tears just to soothe the pain and dryness.

Rough hands grabbed at my arms and I was too weak to fight them. Endless days without proper food or water had taken their toll. In fact after so long alone I almost welcomed the harsh fingers as they hauled me upright and marched me out of my cell.

Details. The quiet yet unbeaten portion of my journalist’s brain that analyzed everything for future work took them in even as I did my best just to stay on my wobbling feet.

I was surrounded by dark haired men and women dressed in identical black suits as we marched down a narrow hallway that smelled of filth and grime, though that might’ve just been me. No identifying logos or marks on my guards, just Asian-standard black business suits. The kind I’ve worn for a variety of meetings and interviews over the years.

The hallway ended and even more light burned my eyes as a door to the outside world opened. A quick shuffling ensued during my temporary blindness. My hands were roughly bound together before I was shoved off-balance. Metal bashed into my legs and I cried out again, falling forward onto a cold metal surface.

My eyes adjusted after the doors shut revealing the back of a midsized cargo van.

We drove. One black suited man sat in the back with me listening to someone on his Bluetooth earpiece. A pistol was visible beneath his blazer, not that I believed any of my captors would be unarmed.

Images skimmed by through the van’s tinted windows showing glimpses of the outside world. Sounds and smells more than the bits of skyscrapers and other buildings told me where we were. Horns honked at pedestrians. Smog was in the air. We paused briefly by a street food vendor and the scent of spicy pork made my empty stomach start growling

The streets of Shanghai were not easy to traverse at any time of day, between all the turns and traffic stops. To say nothing of the thousands of pedestrians that routinely flooding the pathways.

But I was in no rush. This outing was a vast improvement over my previous one. No one was trying to break my ribs. 

Yet.

Eventually the light went away as the van pulled into an underground parking facility. The man riding with me snatched my arm as the doors open and we spilled out into the parkade.

Even without the signage I would’ve known immediately where I was, going by how spotless the garage pavement and support beams were. Absolutely fanatically clean. You’d never believe in the Western world that an underground location designed to park cars could be so fastidious.

A second van was parked across from us. The doors were open and more guards in identical suits crowded in front of the opening, obscuring my view. There was some muted discussion in the local dialect which I wasn’t as familiar with, but enough got through to translate in my head. Especially when one of the guards activated her Bluetooth earpiece asking for instructions.

In moments she received an answer, forwarding it to her fellow guards.

“Leave the body. Bring this one.”

My heart lurched at the words and I got a glimpse of my dead cameraman’s feet before the van doors closed and I was dragged away.

The gleaming silver doors to the elevator slid open and I was forced in, surrounded by the guards. The upwards pressure forced my insides to my feet, adding to the discomfort from the overhead halogens as the car rocketed with no stops all the way to the penthouse.

At the top floor the guards dog-marched my trembling and exhausted body through expansive yet sparsely decorated hallways before settling on one immaculate, glass walled boardroom. I was forced to sit near the head of a long, gleaming black table in an uncomfortable wooden chair. My wrists were unbound briefly only to re-secure them firmly to the legs of the chair behind my back. Experience reminded me that my chest, neck and head were completely unprotected from whatever came next. 

Minutes that felt like an eternity passed in that boardroom. Time that seemed endless where all that I could do was take note of what I could see and hear.

Massive flat screen monitors decorated the walls, none of them powered up. The black suited guards remained but had increased in number to six, which was giving their prisoner far too much respect considering my condition. LED lights overhead remained bright but less aggressive to my repressed eyes. 

But most important was the view out the window as the sun began setting over the Shanghai skyline.

Which seemed both poetic and tragic given my plight.

A section of the wall that had looked identical to all the rest made a hissing sound before sliding aside like something out of Star Trek, revealing a striking middle-aged woman flanked by yet more black suited guards. Dressed in the finest white silk business attire she strode into the boardroom with the authority you would expect from the bitch who owned the whole damned place.

Xioatang Lu was the heir and acting CEO to the Gunglei Media Empire and one of the few females of any telecommunications company in the entire world. As such her severe demeanor went beyond what one would call “understandable given the circumstances” all the way to “absolutely ruthless.”

Of which I had first hand experience.

“So.” Xiaotang Lu declared in Cantonese. “The day has come at last.”

Even if I’d had the energy to speak I doubt anything useful would’ve escaped my lips.

With barely a fraction of a nod, Xiaotang Lu motioned to her guard and the giant flat screen monitor to my left flickered to life showing an international newscast from outside of China. The kind of signal that was easier to get when you owned the satellites in the airspace over your country and wanted to see more than just what your restrictive totalitarian government believed was in your best interests to observe.

The Canadian Prime Minister was on the screen answering questions to the international press. No sound came from the monitor but the chyron readout scrolling across the lower third made things abundantly clear. 

PM: NEGOTIATIONS BREAK DOWN

Canadian Reporters Remain Captive in China.

No Time Table for Their Release. 

Opposition Accuses PM of Leaving Reporters to Die.

Apparently I had some tears left in me as one escaped from my swollen eyes before disappearing into my unshaven and filthy beard. 

Ms. Lu stepped towards me, gesturing negligently towards the screen with a neutral expression.

“You see? Your country cares not for your safety.”

A hoarse bark of laughter broke from behind my cracked and parched lips.

Her eyebrow arched with disdain.

“What can they do?” I continued hoarsely, summoning whatever defiance I had left to glare back at her. “The Gunglei Corporation owns controlling stock in too many media groups here in China, Canada and around the world. Negotiating with Ambassadors and the Chinese President is impossible given how much influence you wield over them.”

Ms. Lu’s expression never changed but her words were cold, her tone precise. “This is why you should not have been asking questions.”

When you have nothing left to lose your courage will surprise you.

“Your company is responsible for the negligent death of dozens of people outside of Vancouver and countless more around the world. Many of those deaths were more than negligence. My cousin was one of them. Robert Liu. He knew the lengths you would go to maintain power in the world. He was killed shortly after questioning his supervisors in the Gunglei distribution center.”

“And yet, in spite of your questioning of me and others you have nothing to show for your impudence. No evidence.”

“There is plenty of evidence!”

“Yet not enough for your precious Prime Minister to do anything to save you.”

Words failed me. The news on the screen seemed to say as much.

Xiaotang Lu leaned down to stare me directly in the eye, her gaze cold and merciless.

“Your country does not care for you. They are weak and easily manipulated for fear of what it will cost their people in future business opportunities.” Her eyes glittered with malice. “You should not have asked questions.”

Xioatang Lu motioned sharply to her guards as she stood up and turned away, retreating towards the gap in the wall she had arrived from. “Take him away. No one must know he and the other were here. Leave their bodies somewhere to be found. A statement must be made that cannot be traced back to this company.”

Rough hands grabbed at my arms again even before Ms. Lu disappeared flanked by her guards.

I began to thrash in my seat but to almost no effect. It took little effort for my captors to muscle me back up to my feet and start dragging me through the same glass walled hallway as before towards the service elevators.

Which led to a moment of confusion when they had to wait for the private elevator car to return. Someone had called it back to the garage. Which was odd, though not a high priority in my mind at the moment.

It was however a higher priority for the lead security guard who spoke harshly into his wrist mic. “Where is the car, Shotei?  You were instructed to leave the car in place at the penthouse until…”

An audible, high-pitched electric squeal split the air and made all four of my guards cry out in surprise as they yanked their Bluetooth earpieces out. One of them staggered to a knee from the feedback alone. The other three were all clearly shaken as the sound screamed down the hallway, making the glass walls start vibrating.

The agonizing sound abruptly ended and the hallway plunged into darkness.

Not complete blackness of course as emergency hallway lights fluttered awake and sunlight from the outer windows filtered through the clear glass walls. But it was a stark contrast from the harsh overhead LEDs to the long shadows and flickering hue of a less sterilized looking world.

The lead guard tried to recover his composure, still barking into his wrist mic. Trying to contact anyone.

So all of us were surprised when the private elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Silhouetted by the elevator’s halogens was an immense man. As wide in the shoulders as he was in his was tall in those shadows. Dressed all in black with what appeared to be a felt cowboy hat off all things perched atop his shaggy head.

The guards surrounding me still staggered by the audio assault tried to focus on the man before us. 

“John Liu?” the man asked, his eyes glittering in the darkness as they found mine.

It was all I could do to nod.

“Okay, good.” The man glanced at my captors with what looked like regret in his eyes. Or maybe it was effort. “Release your fish or no one gets laid.”

Cantonese is a challenging language.

My captors grumbled in confusion. Glancing between themselves and the newcomer.

The man sighed and stepped forward, the elevator door closing behind him and reducing visibility even further.

“Fine," he growled, still in awful Cantonese. "Hard way.”

Things happened way too fast to keep track of it all.

Both guards in front of me raised their pistols as the huge shadowy man approached. There was a hum in the air that I felt physically blow past my face. I couldn’t see exactly how, but both of the guards’ guns went flying away, smashing through the glass partitions to either side. Their cries of pain and surprise were unmistakable and loud in my ears.

An arm snaked around my throat and a cold pistol was pressed up under my cheekbone as the lone female guard tried to drag me away. My heart pounded with hope for the first time in months lending strength to my feeble body, keeping the guard from pulling me too far. Finally I allowed my legs to collapse under our weight sending us both tumbling to the rough carpet in a semi-prone position.

Which gave the both of us a front-row seat for the silhouetted action.

The three remaining guards had all been disarmed now, with one literally writhing on the floor, clutching a clearly dislocated elbow. He screamed and kicked in agony while the shadowy dance continued above his flailing form.

Despite being outnumbered the huge cowboy was clearly not outmatched even as both black suited guards attacked from either side. With flashing limbs and flickering fists the guards struck repeatedly at the interloper which he either deflected or absorbed with surprising quickness of his own. Grunts and the slap of flesh on flesh echoed through the hallway for what felt an age but could only have been seconds.

What happened next was a feat of strength I wouldn’t have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes.

The big man came off the defensive for the first time by sending the right hand guard rolling down the hall with a timely block and shove, giving him space to focus on his sole remaining opponent. Said attacker got over zealous and attempted a leaping kick right out of a Hong Kong Action epic. And just like in one of those epics the man in the cowboy hat caught the guard with ease, pivoted sharply and slammed him heavily to the floor. Then without changing his grip on the guards’ leg the cowboy heaved the man from the floor and hurled him ten feet across the hallway into the now recovered right-hand guard, sending both of them crashing through one of the heavy glass walls. Their bodies joined their broken-armed partner in writhing in pain against the carpet.

Which was when the cowboy refocused his attention on me. More specifically on the lady holding me captive.

She chattered authoritatively at him in Cantonese. The words were jumbled and frantic. The translation would be what you’d expect though I’ll be damned if I remember the specifics. I was more focused on the arm closing off my windpipe and the pistol in my face.

The big man’s approach slowed. Whether he understood her or not, the intention was clear.

Stop or the reporter dies.

Finally he stopped. Raising both hands in surrender.

I wanted to weep.

My captor started to chatter again. Barking orders.

Which was when the emergency light directly overhead suddenly flared, erupting in a shower of sparks and hot glass.

My guard shrieked. The flash blinded me. There was a rush of movement and suddenly I could breathe easily again.

Vision came back blurrily. The lady guard was face first to the floor, her hands trussed behind her back. The cowboy made quick work of her feet as well and ignored her cries of anger and indignity.

“You good?”

I wasn’t used to hearing English anymore. Or Canadian accents.

“What … What’s happening?”

It was scary just how easily he hauled me from the floor to my feet, leaning me gently against the remaining glass wall. I was given a first person perspective of just how big this man was as he towered head and shoulders above me, his gray eyes giving me the once over. He slid a knife between my wrists and deftly snipped away my bonds, sending a rush of blood tingling back into my fingers.

“Can you walk?”

“What? I don’t…”

Ham sized hands gripped my shoulders firmly but not roughly. His eyes bored into mine.

“Mister Liu. Can. You. Walk?”

In spite of everything I found a final spot of courage, took a deep breath and nodded.

The corner of the cowboy’s lips curled up in a very slight smile. 

“Good man. My name’s Joe. I’m with a branch of the Canadian Government and we’ve gotta go.”

I found myself nodding, tears of relief itched at my dehydrated eyes wanting to appear.

My face must have betrayed the emotion as Joe resettled his cowboy hat, tucked away his knife in a cargo pant pocket and guided me swiftly over to the elevator doors. I might be mistaken but I would’ve sworn he made a gesture with one hand as the doors slid open as if they were the entrance to a grocery store.

“Keep it together just a bit longer, Mister Liu. Once we make it to the rally point you can break down. But until then stay cool. I can carry you if need be but I might need my hands.” 

The elevator doors slid shut behind me. I leaned gratefully against one of the cool, metallic walls and tried to focus on my breathing. Joe was facing the control panel with one bare hand on the security card-reader. We stood there a long moment lit in the dim emergency lighting.

“Johnny.”

“What’s that?”

I tried to find a smile. Didn’t quite manage. 

“People who rescue me from months of illegal captivity can call me Johnny.”

Joe glanced over his broad shoulder at me with an encouraging glance.

“You got it, Johnny. Gimme a sec, I’m still figuring this shit out.”

I glanced at the control panel his hand was pressed against.

“Do you need me to translate or something?”

“No it’s cool, I just need to concentrate for a moment.”

I tried not to panic and think about all of the security guards that the Gonglei Corporation had ready at Xiaotang Lu’s disposal the longer we waited here in this claustrophobic elevator car.

“When you came in didn’t you have a plan for getting out?”

Joe barked a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

‘Don’t worry Your Worshipfulness, I’ve got this.”

I felt a static tingle rush over my arms and neck as the main lights came on and the elevator hummed to life. The weird controlled falling at speed sensation hit my stomach as we began our descent back to the parking garage.

“Is the rest of your team here?”

Joe shook his head, adding to the sinking feeling. Gray eyes met mine in the mirrored door reflection. “I don’t like it anymore than you do. But they said something about not wanting to start an international incident.”

“What do you mean?”

“Unsanctioned military action on a private corporation in communist China? Big news.” Joe took a deep breath as the car began to slow. “One lone dissident getting into a confrontation with Gunglei Corp officials? No one hears about it, local government needs to save face and will bury the story.”

A bitter laugh escaped my bruised lips. “That I understand.”

The car slowed even more.

“Okay. The guards I handled on the way in might’ve recovered. Plus there’s gonna be more. Stay low and make your way to the van on the right, one of the ones you were brought here on.”

“What are you going to do?”

The car stopped. A familiar ding announcing our arrival.

Joe squared his shoulders and adjusted the wide brim on his black hat.

“Dunno. I’ll figure something out.”

The door began to slide open. Joe’s fists clenched and I felt the static electricity in the air around me again.

“Count to five and then make your move, Johnny. You’ve got this.”

Harsh voices barked from the parking garage. The sound of weapons being prepped filled the air.

Another rush of static washed over me sending every hair to full alert.

Then all the lights went out. More electronic squeals came from more Bluetooth earpieces. People screamed in pain and fright. Halogen bulbs exploded throughout the garage in a concentric wave of compressed gas flares and glass shards.

Joe was gone before my eyes had adjusted. I quickly lost count, screwed up the very last of my courage and scurried out the now dead elevator car into a mini warzone.

Gunshots and screams echoed throughout the cavernous garage. Shouted instructions from one guard to another mingled with screams of pain and no small amount of fear. The smell of cordite and burning rubber was heavy in the air even as I hunched over and limped along behind one compact car to the next, trying to make my way in the darkness. Broken glass from the shattered overhead lighting added an extra challenge to my bare feet as I inched along. Sparks showered down from the ruptured wires in spurts and flares, further disorienting me.

The next car I slipped behind rocked heavily on its’ shocks with a crash, sending me tumbling to the pavement with a cry. The windshield and engine hood were smashed from the impact of a Gonglei Guard who’d clearly been launched into the four cylinders’ frame. He lay there amidst the wreckage in obvious pain as I scrambled away on my hands and knees. 

After moments that felt like an eternity I bumped into something solid. 

It was the van.

Fingers trembling with eagerness as the sounds of violence continued behind me I scrabbled at the latch until the door popped open. I was hyperventilating as I scrabbled into the seat slamming the door behind me and hitting the locks.

It was all I could do to keep breathing and stay conscious. Every fibre of my tortured being quivered. I wanted to weep, scream, vomit and pass out all at the same time.

A face loomed out of the darkness in the side window. I flinched and leaned away.

Then I recognized the silhouette and the cowboy hat.

“Open the door!” came his muffled voice.

I fumbled around, trying to find the latch I’d hit only moments before. Then another wave of static hit me. The doors unlocked with a rattle as all the lights and icons on the dashboard came to life. To my continued shock the engine hummed and revved too.

“What… How are you …?”

The big cowboy swore gutturally as he tried to readjust the drivers’ seat and climb in at the same time. “Goddamn Asian electric vehicles. Sure, they start like a dream but I dare them to be built for plus sized dudes.” He started to settle uncomfortably, swiftly removing his hat and cramming it between our seats.

“Better buckle up, we’re not clear yet.”

My hands were numb. And trembling. Yet somehow they found the restraint straps and managed to click into place as the van lurched backwards. More voices shouted in a muffle from out in the garage. There was a series of banging sounds and cries of pain. Peering back over my shoulder I watched as Joe backed up without hesitation into the remaining members of the Gonglei Security Force before reversing direction and speeding away.

Another motion caught my eye in the back of the darkened van and I panicked before realization hit and my heart sank.

“Silvain,” I muttered.

“What?”

I turned away from my cameraman’s remains and closed my eyes. “The other captor. My cameraman on this assignment. His unsecured body is in the back.”

The tiny cargo van rushed towards the garage entrance where two more guards were waiting, waving their arms and standing in front of the lowered barricade. Joe grimaced and added more speed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. That’s why I told you to go for this van. Didn’t want to leave anyone behind.”

“Thank you.”

One guard stopped waving his hands and reached for his sidearm.

‘Don’t thank me yet,” Joe muttered through a firmly set jaw as the electric van hummed in rapid acceleration.

While not as dramatic as most scenes from eighties television, the van did smash through the lowered barricade of the Gonglei Corp’s garage and skid out from under the skyrise building into what was still a gloomy day. Faintly behind us I thought I heard a few more gunshots ring out but not as many as you might think. Joe spun the van out from a narrow on-ramp and plunged recklessly into the busy streets, earning many honks of protest and curses from the gaggle of pedestrians.

For maybe three huge Shanghai city blocks Joe weaved in and out of traffic before settling down into a more sedate pace along with the thousands of other vehicles on the go. Though given the perpetual flow of vehicles in this city whether it was a plan or a necessity was difficult to judge.

My body started trembling. No matter how tightly I tried to hug myself and breathe calmly there seemed little chance to control myself. After months in isolation even this small snippet of freedom was overwhelming, both with fear and - even more dangerously – hope.

“Hang on, Johnny. I promise to get you out of this,” Joe said as his eyes flicked continuously between the road ahead and the vans’ mirrors. One of his huge hands was fumbling in the pockets of his black cargo pants as he muttered about poor lines of sight in the street behind him. Finally he fished out a small device and thumbed it alive with a click and a hiss of static that made the big man wince.

“Dammit. Hello? Hello, Charmaine? Can you hear me?”

A female voice scratched with distortion back through the device as Joe made a sudden left to avoid being stuck at an intersection.

“Joe? Joe are you there?”

“Yeah. I need an exit.”

“What? Joe I can’t hear you… You voice …. Breaking up… Where are …”

Joe sighed wearily and handed me the device. “Here. You gotta hold this for me. I’m too worked up.”

My trembling hands took the small black device, which looked like a cross between an early model cell phone and a small walkie-talkie.

“Do… Do you want me to …?”

Joe focused his searching eyes back on the road while shaking his head.

“Just hold the button on the side and point it towards me.”

Dutifully I pressed the response button and held it aside. The static resumed immediately but it was slightly less pronounced.

“Joe? Joe its Charmaine. I’m here with Lieutenant Connell at the airport. Can you hear me?”

“Charmaine, we’re on the road in the midst of bumper to bumper traffic and for all I know I’ve got both private security and local cops on my tail.”

A male voice cut in.

“Joe, do you have the targets?”

“Dammit, Connell do you think I’d have left the building without them?”

“I need to know for logistics, Joe. Stay focused.”

The big man took a steadying breath. For the first time I saw just how on the edge my savior was with fingers clenched so tightly on the steering wheel that the whites of his knuckles showed.

“I’ve got Mr. Liu safely in the passenger seat and the body of Mr. Pinchaud in the back of our van. Now if you can’t figure out a way to get us off these streets you’ll need three flags to drape over our ceremonial caskets instead of just the one!”

“We’re on it, Joe. Stay calm and keep this channel open. We’ll find you on the satellites and give instructions.”

“Thank you.”

Traffic lights changed and we proceeded along like just another rat in the maze of Shanghai streets, surrounded on all sides by other vehicles and pedestrians. Dutifully I kept my thumb down on the communication device and did my best to stop trembling.

“I’m never gonna get used to the steering wheels being on this side,” Joe grumbled with his head on a swivel, changing lanes and making another seemingly random turn.

“Where are we going?” I asked quietly. Afraid of the answer.

His gray eyes spared me a tense glance. 

“For now I just wanna keep moving. Keep us in public. While I’ve got no doubt that your captors would be willing to do almost anything to get you back, we’re really hoping that they don’t wanna be seen doing it.” He made another smooth lane change, avoiding the opportunity to take an overpass and drove deeper into the heart of the concrete and glass jungle. “I mean, the whole story between the PM and Gonglei Corp has been we knew you were being held captive illegally but Ms. Lu never acknowledged involvement. So…”

“You’re hoping that making a scene is the last thing they want to do. Not wanting to lose face on the international media scene.”

Joe shrugged. “I ain’t exactly an expert on Chinese culture, but that feels right.”

I shook my head and looked out the window. In spite of myself feeling my heart soar at the mere prospect of being released from captivity. 

“Why you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why just you? If the Canadian Government wanted to send in a rescue force I figured there’d be a team?”

At the next intersection the flashing lights of emergency vehicles came into view. Without any apparent panic Joe switched lanes and the van made a sedate left onto a side street, came around behind what appeared to be another banking conglomerate’s skyscraper and pulled into a tiny, automated public parking tower. We ascended the ramp slowly as Joe replied. “A team is tough. Too many people involved. Too many chances to be spotted or have the word leak out. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly?”

Joe’s lips formed a tight grimace before he replied. “Yeah, that stuff’s outta my hands. Like I said, I figure the PM wanted to avoid an international incident. Sending a squad from Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry would’ve caused a scene. But sending me? Well…”

“Well what?”

He laughed.

“One man is an anomaly. Plausibly deniable.”

“You’re saying that you’re expendable?”

He shrugged. 

“I mean, in a way. Yeah.”

I felt the flutter of hope in my heart sink down past my stomach.

“We’re dead.”

Joe’s chuckle might’ve been grim but at least it sounded genuine. “Not yet, Johnny. We aren’t completely alone.” He motioned for me to hold up the transmitter again. “Charmaine? Please tell me you’ve got us an exit?”

The static-filled female voice came back on through the communicator in my trembling hands. “It’s not perfect. But it’s close by.”

Joe slid the van into a tight parking spot and killed the engine. “We’ll take it. I’m switching vehicles now.”

“Find one with a GPS map!” said the voice.

Joe scowled.

“How will I know?”

“Joe, you’re in Shanghai. Every other car made in the last decade has a computer in it.”

Joe gave me a glance.

I shrugged.

“Technological centre of the world?”

“Fair enough.” Joe slid out the driver’s seat and peered around carefully. “Come on, we gotta keep moving.” 

Sliding out of the van shouldn’t have been so hard. But after everything it was difficult to do even the most basic things like standing and walking on my own. Regardless I made it to my feet and slid along the side of the Gonglei Corp’s unmarked van. By the time I got to the rear bumper Joe had apparently decided on a new vehicle a few cars down from us. He laid a hand carefully on the hood for a moment. To my continued surprise the midsized hatchback hummed to life. With some difficulty Joe leveraged his huge frame behind the drivers’ seat and backed it out of the spot until it was only feet from the van. He slid out with only slightly less difficulty and popped the trunk.

 “What… How did you …”

“Get in the car and see if you can work the map, Johnny.” Joe had the back of the van open now and was grimacing sadly. With another a firm, emotionless expression he slid Silvain’s body out, cradled him gently in his arms before resting him carefully into the new vehicle. He managed all this and closed all the doors before I’d even made it to the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

It took me a moment but I made it into the car. The heads-up-display was active if a bit glitchy as Joe shifted the car into drive and started rolling away. At the entrance to the parking garage the big man slid off his cowboy hat and tucked it next to his feet just as another Gonglei Corp van was just pulling into the facility as we rolled on.

“Did they see us?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least we know this car isn’t chipped,” Joe replied as he smoothly rolled into traffic, changing lanes at the first opportunity and taking the first turn out of sight. “Charmaine, where are we heading?”

The staticky voice provided an address over the odd communicator. It took me a few tries to figure out how to switch to Google Maps on the HUD but eventually managed to get it activated.

Joe glanced at the screen quickly, clearly trying not to focus on it.

“What is that, Char?”

“It’s a private airfield. Less than 20 kilometres away. We’ve arranged for your RCAF transport plane to reroute there for an emergency refueling. They’re just landing now but won’t be allowed to stay long as it violates most customs we have in place with China. So you’d better hurry before they’re forced to take off again.”

“Security at the airfield?”

“Oh yeah. You’ll need to be extra persuasive when you get there.”

Joe sighed heavily and rubbed at one temple as if it pained him. “Right. See you on the other side, Char. Thanks.”

The tiny electric hatchback zipped along under Joe’s direction, weaving in and out of traffic. I huddled wearily in my passenger seat, keeping an eye on the HUD and pointedly not glancing over my shoulder at my cameraman’s remains.

Joe grumbled and adjusted uncomfortably, reaching into one of the many pockets of his black cargo pants. “Tiny fucking cars” he muttered before bringing what looked like some kind of candy bar up to his lips and ripped it open. He’d jammed half the bar into his mouth before he thought to glance at me. “Sorry. Hungry?”

“Please.”

Juggling the open bar into his driving hand Joe fished out a second one. “Take your time chewing this. It might be tough in your condition.”

The bar was longer than my hand and surprisingly heavy. Wrapped in a plain silver foil and otherwise unmarked. “What is it?”

“Two thousand calorie, high protein meal replacement bar.” Joe replied, his voice garbled though a full mouth. “Doesn’t taste great, but it has everything I need in a pinch.”

The foil parted with surprising ease. The plain, brownish looking bar looked like every convenience store protein bar you’d ever seen. Tasted even worse. And he was right about the density. It took me a full minute to get the small bite I’d taken chewed properly with my loosened teeth until I felt safe in swallowing.

Joe handed me a metal water bottle he’d pulled from another pocket. It was open and half empty. “Take your time with this. It’s all I’ve got left.”

The lukewarm water went down like the coldest beer on the hottest day off a dock on Lake Superior. Washing away a mouthful of grit and adding a moments respite to my dehydration. It also mingled with the food-by-definition that was working its way into my shriveled stomach.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry I don’t have anything else to offer – ah, dammit!” Joe earned himself a loud honk from other drivers who were protesting our sudden lane change to avoid missing the overpass exit leading away from the heart of the city. Joe frantically scanned the mirrors and the road ahead before daring to increase our speed now that we had some more room. “I’m never gonna get used to driving on the wrong side, this shit is completely throwing me off.”

“You’re doing better than me.”

“I haven’t been beaten and starved for a few months though. So … no offence.”

I actually laughed.

“None taken. Thank you.”

“All good. Sorry I don’t have anything else to eat.”

“No not that. Thank you for coming for us.”

Joe glanced at me with discomfort in his eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I really do. No one else was coming.’

“Not because they didn’t want to.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details because that ain’t my job. But they wouldn’t have pulled me out of training sixteen hours ago without notice if they could’ve figured out a diplomatic way to get you two freed.”

His words washed over me.

“Are you saying…? Joe have you never done this before?”

He glanced at me uncomfortably again. 

“Infiltrate a Chinese tech-Magnates head office in Shanghai to liberate foreign nationals? No, this is a first.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean. And yeah… first real mission.”

I bravely took another bite of my MRE. Somehow it didn’t seem like what I’d have chosen for a last meal.

“So should I be concerned or excited?”

This time Joe barked a laugh.

“What’s the difference?”

We drove in silence for a time. I managed to choke down another bite of my food and sipped water. At first all this did was highlight aches and pains I’d forgotten about, however eventually it got my brain working as I started piecing together the last 45 minutes of my life.

“So… You’re here in China alone?”

Joe grunted non-commitally, his eyes flickering from the road to his mirrors without pause and barely blinking. 

“I mean, you don’t have a team with you?”

He motioned with a nod towards the communication device I was still clutching. “That’s the team.”

“Where are they?”

“Not in the country. Not officially I mean. There are two handlers that were waiting for us at the commercial airport to kit you up and smuggle you aboard the RCAF plane that Charmaine got re-routed. China has to approve any Canadian officials coming into their airspace. I don’t know how they were gonna get you aboard though. That’s over my head.”

“So what, did you sneak in on a boat or something?”

Joe snorted. “Please. Tourist Visa. Row 47 centre seat on the red-eye plane this morning. Was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in a vehicle into I got behind the wheel of this shoebox.”

“How’d you find me?”

“CSIS lost track of your physical location a few weeks ago but was monitoring the chatter. Knew that you and your partner were being brought to the Gonglei HQ today after negotiations between President Xi and the PM went to shit for the last time. An operative met me on the downtown train and got me to the head office.”

“Why didn’t he help?”

“She couldn’t blow her cover as a member of the Gonglei Corp social media team. Got me set up at Korean BBQ stand near the HQ where I could wait for you to arrive. Do you know why Korean BBQ is such in thing in China? You’d think it would be something else.”

“Is that who gave you all your tech then?”

“What tech?”

I motioned with the communicator.

“Oh. Yeah. She gave me that and a quick layout of the penthouse so I had some idea what I’d be walking into.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“The rest of what?”

“The lights? The power outages. Even hijacking this car? What did she give you for that? Or is someone else helping online?”

“Like my Microchip?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry. Like my person in the chair?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Joe sighed.

“My eye in the sky pulling strings for me?”

“Yeah? Is this Charmaine person doing that?”

Joe was quiet for a moment and pursed his lips. 

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“What branch of the service are you with?”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t interrogate me.”

Which I realized I was starting to do, a sign that my confidence and journalistic instincts were returning.

“I’m sorry. But I have so many questions.”

“Look, I get it. But the truth is I don’t exist. And once I get you outta Shanghai and onto the plane that hopefully is still waiting for us you won’t be able to talk about this.”

“I can’t keep silent about the atrocities I’ve experienced, Joe. The very nature of my job is to find stories and bring them to light.”

“And I’m sure you’ll get that chance. To tell your story. To share your experiences.” The car lurched as Joe made a sharp lane change to avoid missing his off ramp. “Damn, these cars are touchy.”

“Are you a spy?”

“Trust me, I’d make a terrible spy.” 

“Then why won’t...?”

“Look Johnny, you’re gonna get home. You’re gonna get to see your family again, I promise you that. The CBC and others will want a piece of you and your story, which is important for the world to know about the kinda crap that is going on on in this country. You will make people question why we do business with people like the Gonglei Corporation. That is the most important thing to come outta this whole mess for you. Getting to show your heroism and bravery during this horrible experience.” Joe’s gray eye gave me a quick, serious stare. “But before that you’ll be given a story about how you were liberated that won’t mention me, Charmaine or Connell at all. And you’ll need to stick to that story.”

Conflicting emotions bubbled up inside of me.

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“Few things do. Now focus. What’s the priority here?”

I took a deep and hopeful breath.

“Getting home alive?”

“Damned right.”

Faintly the sound of sirens hit my ears. Also faintly were flashes of red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror. 

I felt my stomach clench.

“Is that for us?”

Joe didn’t reply as he focused between the mirror and the HUD readout, seeming to debate his options. The private airport was only 4 minutes away.

“Fuck it. Let’s be bad guys.”

“What?”

The tiny electric cars’ engine hummed and the other traffic outside the windows began to speed past as Joe opened her up and took off down the highway, motioning for me to hold up the communicator again.

 “Charmaine?” he cried out, excitement in his voice.

“What is it, Joe?”

“I’ve got police on my tail.”

“Joe, there’s nothing I can do about them.”

“I know. Is the plane still there?”

“Yes, but the Chinese Authorities are insisting they take off ASAP. The cargo plane has overstayed its’ welcome.”

“Haven’t we all,” Joe muttered, his eyes alight and calculating. In the near distance I could make out the tiny tower for the private air strip. “Fine, tell the pilot to hit the runway and prepare to take off. You’re sure it’s a cargo plane, right?”

“Joe... Tell me you’re not thinking about…”

“I’m definitely not thinking. Have them drop the loading ramp.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yeah. Probably.” The energy in Joe’s eyes was positively electric as we raced towards the airstrip. “We’re gonna do some Dom Toretto shit.”

Things started to get blurry and everything began to happen at once. Joe drove the car off the freeway exit without slowing down, barely managing to avoid crashing our stolen hatchback into other traffic or the barricades. The sound of sirens behind us was unmistakable now though I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road in front of us.

The private airstrip was as you’d expect for the more affluent members of the Chinese population. As such the terminal and parking lot was well protected with a wall, a gated entrance and armed guards in sight. We were racing towards the barricade even as the uniformed security team began to spill out of their shack, brandishing weapons and shouting instructions over a loudspeaker. 

Then another surge of static electricity sent goosebumps over my arm as an impossibly loud feedback squealed out into the air, blasting from the guard houses’ loudspeakers. Several guards collapsed to the ground from the noise, the rest covered their ears and cowered away while the barricade slowly began to rise out of our way.

For half a second the cars’ engine and HUD sputtered and appeared to die on us while the communicator I was gripping chirped and got very hot. Then everything righted itself and we zoomed ahead even faster than before. The lone guard with the misfortune to still be in our way got clipped and hurled aside as we raced along, clearing the rising barricade by inches at best.

The static wave lessened somewhat and the electronic squealing died away, though instantly replaced with a more familiar squealing of rubber tires followed by crashes and shouts. When Joe turned to follow the road past the air terminal I glanced out my side window, amazed to see that the barricade had fallen behind us on top of a pursuing police car. Which then caused a pile up of the cars behind them.

“How did…? What’s going on?”

“We’re doing the impossible and that makes us mighty,” Joe replied with a breathless growl, his eyes alight and his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“What does that mean?” My voice might’ve been frantic.

The car took a sudden right, bouncing us painfully over a rounded curb, smashing through a chain link fence and suddenly we were on the airstrip proper. An RCAF cargo plane was slowly beginning to make its ascent down the runway in the opposite direction from us.

“Goddammit,” Joe snarled snatching the communicator from my numb fingers. “Charmaine, get them to open the loading door!”

“Joe, I’ve spoken to the captain and they’re freaked out. This is way out of their normal protocol and they’ve never done anything like this before!”

“And I have?”

“Joe...”

“This is our last chance, Charmaine. I’m gonna be on their tail in seconds. Please.”

Silence.

Emergency vehicle lights began to reflect in the rear-view mirrors again.

The cargo plane was beginning to pick up speed even as we hustled to catch up. I was able to clearly see the Canadian flag and call sign stenciled onto the fuselage as we approached.

Without ceremony the loading door began lowering even as the runway was getting down to the last 500 yards give or take.

“I owe you a beer, Charmaine!” Joe hollered before righting the car’s trajectory and putting us directly behind the cargo plane. Winds buffeted the tiny metal frame as we crept up on the lowering ramp way foot by foot. I could feel every bone in my body and every part of our stolen vehicle rattling under the pressure as we inched our way to freedom.

I couldn’t hear anything aside from the rushing of blood in my ears and the power of the air rattling the windows.

Finally the ramp fully lowered, I could see sparks when it scraped against the tarmac. 

I could also see other cargo in the hold.

My stomach sank.

“We’re not going to fit.”

Another rush of static washed over me even more intensely than before. The car lurched forward suddenly as if it were drawn on a string inexorably towards the ramp way. When Joe spoke his voice sounded like it was coming through a filtered speaker.

“Fuck that. This is a compact car!”

Our front tires hit the ramp with a rattle and immediately I felt that awful weightlessness you get on initial takeoff. I was screaming with every last fibre of my being as we rocketed into the plane now on a stomach dropping angle. I closed my eyes as the loaded boxes rushed towards us at top speed as all sounds and sensations became meshed together. Static made every hair stand on end as we lurched and rattled. I could feel the air temperature change, dropping drastically even as my sense of gravity completely left me.

After a few moments I realized some things.

First; some time had passed and I was still screaming. 

Second; the sound of wind and rattling had become much less desperate. 

Finally; the static feeling was gone. But the air smelled strongly of burning rubber.

I opened my eyes.

It was dim but after what I’d been through my vision adjusted quickly. The running lights along the length of the RCAF cardo plane were spaced at every hull interval along the beams. Inches in front of the stolen car’s hood was the first of several tightly packed and secured with tie down canvass straps of what appeared to be medical supplies. Or ammunition for all I knew. 

Peering back over my shoulder the loading ramp was sealed and the car’s rear bumper was pressed tightly against it, elevated slightly. Showing exactly how tight a fit it was for us to have caught this plane.

A light rumbling caught my attention. Joe was passed out next to me, his head back against the seat uncomfortably with his eyes closed and snoring. Sweat covered the exposed flesh along his face, neck and arms making him look much more gaunt and frail than he had moments before. But there he was in the drivers’ seat of our tiny Asian hatchback passed out and blissfully snoring as the cargo plane we’d managed to catch up to began to level off its ascent.


Sometime later an air force member came to the hold from the upper decks to check on us. After making sure we weren’t a threat she informed me that we’d passed into international waters and would be met in transit by two RCAF F15s to escort us the rest of the way back to Canada.


Which was when I finally allowed myself to cry.


-end-

*****


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Thank you so much,

AK