The Omnicron Imperative (Part I)

[Editor's Note 10/29/10: This whole thing was just supposed to be a short rip on the writing style of certain over-the-top action schlock novels.  The whole thing started as an inside joke between me and a friend of mine that loaned me a Cussler book (The Chase), and it sort of ballooned into this...  It is not meant to be funny, per se, nor is it supposed to be a serious attempt at a novel.  Think of it as a mockumentary of all the bad "super awesome team of super rich handsome people save the world again" books that are out there.  I may never finish the story... it just depends on time and motivation (what doesn't?).  Enjoy.]

Captain Wonderful Q. Awesome, formerly a member of a secret elite counter-terrorism agency simply known as Team Alpha Ninja Omega Niner, expertly piloted his chrome-plated 1896 Velocitymobile into a vacant spot at the desolate, dusty filling station.

The familiar ramshackle structure was his preferred stop for refueling his unbelievably priceless Brass Era road machine. McGinty's was not only the single filling station left in 2010 America that stocked the imported brand of bituminous coal and kerosene the car's steam boilers and headlamps demanded, the owner did not mind when he paid his bill with gold doubloons he always seemed to have on him. He always slyly winked and told her to keep the change anyway.

His boots clocked up the wooden steps as he removed his leather riding goggles to reveal the most exotically colored eyes ever to be blessed upon a human being.  It was impossible to tell exactly what hue they were because to stare into them for too long would be to fall in love.

Many women had tried to win the heart buried inside of his handsome, rugged exterior but he only had room in his life for two loves.  The first was making soft plinking noises behind him as its gleaming steam plant cooled in the gentle autumn breeze.  The second was America...

Little did he know that he was walking into a situation that would test his training to its very limits and force him to choose between the two.

As soon as he creaked open the door to the service station he felt a certain wrongness he couldn't quite put his finger on.  Usually his entry was accompanied by an array of soft thudding sounds as the proprietress and any female customers in the store simultaneously swooned because he was so handsome.  It happened this time, too, of course, but this time the sound of the group collapse was different - it was tinged with fear.

He quickly took in his surroundings.  The six be-robed sword-and-AK-47-wielding Mujahideen that were in the process of holding up the service station paused to look around confusedly at their now semi-conscious hostages.  That brief delay was to be their last.
 
(To be continued...)