If you die,

and there is no God,

no Heaven,

no great reunion

in the sky,

your only true legacy

is how you made people feel.

Manners... maketh... man.

Kingsman: The Golden Circle is the sequel to the successful action spy movie, Kingsman: The Secret Service, and is directed again by Matthew Vaughn and stars Colin Firth, Mark Strong, Taron Egerton, Halle Berry, Julianne Moore, Pedro Pascal, Channing Tatum, and Jeff Bridges.

The film takes place a year after the events of the first film and Kingsman is still protecting the world from deadly threats. Unfortunately their time is cut short when a drug cartel called the Golden Circle, led by a mad woman named Poppy Adams (played by Julianne Moore), launches a deadly assault, wiping out all of Kingsman's operations. Only Eggsy (reprised by Taron Egerton) and Merlin (reprised by Colin Firth) are the sole survivors and must team up with their American cousins the Statesman to stop them.

I really loved the first movie. It was the most fun film I've seen in recent years. It pretty much was a homage of all the classic spy movies from the 1960s with their wacky gadgets and goofy action scenes. Does this sequel hold up to its predecessor? Let's find out.

First of all, really wanted to state that the addition of these new American cousins of the Kingsman was great. Seeing them kick butt was a ton of fun. Though some audiences will be disappointed when they find that Channing Tatum and Jeff Bridges aren't in the movie so often, but at least we got Oberyn Martell of Game of Thrones to entertain us. And Halle Berry was also a good addition too. Brrr... for some reason I got the sense that Hell froze over.

Having the original cast back was also fun. I think the best performance came from Colin Firth as Harry Hart. For those wondering how he is still alive after the first film (brief spoiler to those who haven't seen it) there's a moment where they explain it and you just gotta role with it. In a way it's kinda like how they brought back Agent K in Men in Black 2. More on that in a bit.

But I believe there was one additional cast member that was truly the highlight of this film. The reason I state that is because it looked like he was having the most fun out of it. I won't spoil who that is, you just gotta see for yourself.

The action sequences are just as high octane and fun as they were in the first film. In fact, I dare say they upped it a bit than the first, however, that could also be regarded as a negative against the film. By that I mean there's too much emphasis in this sequel. Here's what I mean: do you remember from the first film how kickass that church scene was where Colin Firth just annihilates those Westboro Baptist Church look alikes (even though we were wishing that happened to the real Westboro Baptist Church members)? All those cool camera shots that rotated around 360 degrees so you can get every bloody shot? Well because you loved that so much in the first film they had to do it again 3 or 4 times in this one. That's the big problem with sequels. If something was pretty cool in the first one it's gonna lose its mojo in the sequels if we had to see the same thing happen again.

Also I hate to even say this, but there were a few moments that felt too cartoony to me. The basics of the first film was that it was a callback to some of the original spy movies, and that's what made the predecessor unique as a spy movie. This one because they had so many ridiculous gadgets, awesome action, and cartoonish moments made it feel more like a comic book movie than a spy movie, which shouldn't be too much of a shock since these films are based on a comic book.

In a way The Golden Circle is much like Men in Black 2. It's still fun to watch but definitely not as good as the first. Still it's worth a watch. I mean what else are you going to see? Flatliners?

Positives:

-Performances

-New additions

-High octane action

-Still fun

Negatives:

-Too much emphasis

-Too cartoony at times

Final Grade: C+

For those wondering why the Grading Scale is set up like this, well since Prose has been having bugs with their new update, it's been taking a while to fix them. So in the meantime, until they fix all the issues, you'll likely see the Grading Scale set up like this from now on. Thanks a lot, Prose! >:(

So there's my review of Kingsman: The Golden Circle. Have you seen it? What were your thoughts? Did you see the first Kingsman? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check back for more reviews here on Prose!

Best Quote:

Old Man: "That's the first solid shit I had in 3 weeks!"

#harrysituationreviews #spy #film #opinion #action

The alarm went off. The sirens flashed red. Students dropped their books, and ran for cover. The librarians, and students hid under the tables.

A voice broadcasted throughout the campus, "The FREAK is coming! The FREAK is coming!"

Carla, a heavy set women, emerged through the doorway, hobbling on her cane. Her face was drenched with sweat. Safety measures were taken. Someone had shut down the power.

The chunky women walked through the library in disbelief. Papers were strewn all over the floor.

A sorority sister emerged from the darkness. "No one likes you here! It wouldn't make a difference if you disappeared from this school!"

Carla had no friends. No one liked her. Her mother even rejected her, because she was fat. She frequently talked to herself. She even learned to project her voice, so people wouldn't make fun of her.

"No one will ever hurt me again! Feel my wrath! Now, you will learn how it feels to suffer decades of rejection, and abandonment!" She projected her voice across the campus.

Carla didn't realize that she was psychic. Shadowy figures had emerged from every corner of the school. "We are the rejected! We are the lost souls that society has shunned!"As the lights were turned back on, students, and instructors screamed as desks levitated above their heads. Chairs were strewn about with an invisible hand. Blood seeped through the computer screens, followed by shrewd laughter. Books were hurled through the air, knocking some people in the head. This happened all over campus...

Chapters 9 - 10

Red

       He told me to get in. Get in this car that’s gonna try to leave the flashing lights and cocked guns in the dust…no chance. The seconds ticking by on the expensive watch Mr. Fox bought me were currency more precious than gold, sex, or power. Then there was a twitch from the near-dead ‘officer’ in my arms and Dom’s eyes fluttered, probably winking at the devil wherever his consciousness was…we’re gonna lose him…I can’t lose him, we need him. I got in the car.

       The majestic pine trees lining the English countryside would have been a haunting sight, kneeless in the early morning fog, but trees begin to blur, really blur when you reach about 110 mph, something I never knew before my life as a fugitive from justice. I guess I never had a reason to look out the window of a car while more than doubling the regional speed limit.

       An air of malcontent spread over our tense crew like a wet blanket, the very road rising up to meet the speeding wheels of our getaway like the prickling spine of a waking dragon. Off to our left, thick rushes spread over dales and mounds of earth that rose and fell into the fog swept distance like deep sea waves, barely aware of our race for survival, save for the sparkling dew that occasionally broke through their local atmosphere reminding me to blink my dry, dazed eyes. The morning was light enough, but I could not see the sun.

       I sat motionless, staring out the tinted window. My clothes were a mess, Dom’s blood coating my vest and shirt, but I felt warm and calm like the blood. I couldn't bear the thought of him dying so I sat and stared while Val spurred our car’s horsepower toward its limits. The engine of our ‘borrowed’ Cadillac CTS-V whirred and whined like a dozen ponies instead of the 649 horses its namesake boasted. Occasionally Co would lean out the driver’s side backseat window to spit a few harmless bullets into the air as a reminder to the pursuing beat cops to keep beating. POP! POP! POP! The immediate pressure following each squeeze of the trigger momentarily silenced the rest of the horns, engines, and wind in my ears.

       Mr. Fox had trained us well for much of what we’d encountered but not for this, not for losing one of our own. The car rocked like a clumsy phone booth during an earthquake. I ignored my nausea. Val wrenched the emergency brake, threading our car like a needle through oncoming traffic and onto a moor beside a bright stretch of rush-hour highway…the thick grass was more than aware of us now.

       The English are far more blasé than Americans give them credit for. If we were in Texas, soccer moms and screaming teenagers would be screeching this way and that, but we zipped to and fro on the English lanes without so much as a second look, almost as if the police sirens were echoing ‘mind your bloody business!’

       Val took a risk at the first break in the median and wrenched a U-turn going in the opposite direction of our pursuers. He stomped on the gas pedal, taking full advantage of our momentary separation. We exited the expressway as soon as the flashing lights disappeared from the rearview, under cover of a recently descended hill. Once off the freeway, we were back on track to our pre-mapped escape route. Our driver was a marvel, with a pulse closer to reading a book on a Sunday than in a race for his life.

       My friend, fellow captive, and the chief contributor to the mission we just accomplished lay eerily still, long since passed out in my lap. I'd been talking to him, reminding him of how pathetic he'd have to be to quit now after all the hellacious struggles he'd already endured, struggles that made being stabbed in the left lung with a fountain pen seem more like a break from work than a serious injury. I spoke to him until his closed eyes and pale face were the only response to my encouragements and then I gazed out the window knowing I would probably lose my strongest ally unless something was done soon. Up ahead I could see the safe house. Maybe there’s still time.

       The morning sun filtered through the half-closed blinds as we burst into the pre-rented apartment off Oldham Street and Cobb. Dom was more like a corpse now then my friend. I felt sick laying him on any other table than an operating one or God’s altar. Instead, we strew him across the kitchen table and within ten seconds, his blood covered it like a crimson tablecloth. I had no idea we had that much red inside us, but he made it seem endless.

       "…You send that medic! Do it and bloody yesterday, wanka’. You’re on my time now! I’d rather not have to pay a visit to St. Catherine’s Primary School on Drury Lane…” The dead line on the other end had an effect on the atmosphere in our very room. Mr. Fox must have been calling in a favor from one of his network of undesirables, but even I felt a chill at the mention of an elementary school in the same sentence as a criminal request. He had a way of communicating that was both clever and razor sharp. His tone of voice was always filled with excitement, but rarely framed in a space where it was merited. It was almost funny if he spoke that way on purpose. He sounded like a bad friend, ‘Surprise! Your wife is cheating on you!’ or the way a disbarred doctor might explain, ‘Got some news! You’ve got a week to live!’ Despite his interest level, however, it was contrasted further by his discomforting whisper. His volume was eerie enough to cool the blood in your veins to a slurry, like hearing your name whispered at night in your bedroom, alone, within seconds of drifting towards dreamland. It was the kind of voice that made you pray the speaker didn't know where you lived or where your kids were.

       Mr. Fox growled the instructions that originated from the phone white-knuckled to his ear. He had the look of a man who deeply resented going through the motions of a rescue that we all knew would fail, taking time that was beyond value to those fleeing the scene of a crime – time that compromised the entire purpose of our small mission and may render Dom's unexpected sacrifice utterly pointless. We reacted like sleepy college kids to an unplanned exam, trying to piece the how and why when we should only be focused on the ticking clock. Co shoved an Epi-pen into my hand, which I plunged into Dom’s heart. Co was trying to paste a special three-sided petroleum jelly patch on the wound itself to keep it from sucking air into the lung the wrong way, but Dom came back to life for a few seconds in a big way causing the patch to be secured to his abdomen, missing the wound altogether. This process was made all-the-more juvenile by Dom’s unconscious arms randomly swinging in large arcs like he was having a night terror about Apollo Creed, clocking me in the eye here and Val in the nose there. Note to self: read a damn book on military field surgery and pray you never have to practice what you've learned again.

       Ironically, the ideal man to conduct a debunked MacGyver surgery, reusing syringes and employing I.V.'s made of salinized Aqua Pura bottles, was the pre-cadaver unraveled on the table. I would happily trade places with the man simply because I knew he'd save me if our roles were reversed. My forehead pulsed, pounding all thoughts and memory out of my mind except one, ‘do a good job!’

       Levine Sikes, or "Co" as he'd come to be known, short for "Company," short for the man you'd want to be the face of your company because nothing can stick to a man like that, was the weakest in the presence of blood yet was diligently swabbing as much as he could from Dominic's gushing wound. Shirtless due to our lack of towels, his fit and scarred body would lead anyone who couldn't see his face to a very different conclusion as to what sort of man he was.

       Mr. Fox swept through the three of us surrounding Dom’s limp frame and scooped him up like a football player recovering a fumble, "We're out of hea' chaps.” Just then, as if Bad-timing herself wanted to prove her worth by example, the large door downstairs snapped open and MI-6 came pouring through the opening before the splinters hit the floorboards. Blindly, we followed the pallbearer as Co lay down cover fire into the hallway to give our party the precious few seconds we needed to climb the fire escape to the roof.

       Laurence Mayfair was watering her geraniums for the second time that day trying to get them to bloom. Still without success, she frowned and decided it was time to take them back to the store when she heard fireworks from somewhere below her. "Outrageous!" she whispered to herself, knowing exactly who it was breaking the apartment bylaws; her son Daniel and his friends should be setting an example, not breaking her own rules! She angrily reached for her coat and the doorknob when the unmistakable metallic clang of the fire escape rattled behind her. "Daniel! I've half a mind to..."

       Laurence never finished that sentence. Instead, she crashed to her knees in shock at what she saw. As she looked on, a furious constable carrying a dummy, an unbuttoned beat cop, a shirtless runner with a gun, and a construction worker scaled the escape onto her flat and they were all covered in blood. It seemed like she could hear a little joke forming in the back of her head about an old American rock group, The Village People. She always fell to her dark sense of humor when she was nervous, but before she had time to finish her thought the crack of the constable's threatening voice fell on her like the priest's fire and brimstone sermons that terrified her as a child. Men like this made her believe in God because she was looking at the Devil.

       "Look at me calfer! I need your car keys and its location or you'll look like this bloke hea', ga' it?” Laurence got it and moved mechanically and quickly, no questions asked. She walked fast to him, handed over her keys, and then pointed downstairs on the opposite side of the street at a small, yellow hybrid. Then, without waiting for a response, she lay face down on the floor and spread her arms and legs as if she knew it was unsatisfactory. A good thing for her, too, because as soon as Mr. Fox fixed his eyes on the worst luck in the history of luck, he instinctively backhanded the air where she had been standing and excruciated “Dof Doos! I bet you went an’ bought a fuel-efficient vehicle like that ’cause it makes you feel better about being a wasteful oinka', eh?” Then, to drive his frustration home, he flipped over her gardening table, knocking her plants to the ground. Now eye-to-eye with the geraniums, Laurence caught a glimpse of a tiny bloom and smiled at the spilt dirt. I felt sick being near a man like this but sicker still at the idea of sharing showers at the local penitentiary for the rest of my life, so I said nothing.

       We dropped Dom as carefully as possible into a garbage heap below the near balcony and then leapt together into the black stench that we were hoping would be soft, but wasn't. With course shouting at my back, I gripped Dom’s collar and dragged him free as we all ran for the Hot Wheels version of a car across the road.

       Val, our handyman behind the wheel looked cramped as he shoved the E-brake into the release position. Mr. Fox seemed to respect him most of all. The two of them looked at each other as if making some heavy-handed decision and without a word depressed the gas pedal and their trigger fingers out the window as ten or twelve service men were falling, scrambling, and firing down the street at us.

The Chase

       My stomach fell and the lump in my throat tasted like the first day of school wrapped around the seconds before hearing the answer to a wedding proposal. Swerving through the narrow lane amidst oncoming traffic and pissed beat cops, the tension in our tiny car was so tangible I felt sure that if Val braked too hard my head would smack against it like a taxi partition. It was like a nightmare, watching death attacking us from every angle to find purchase and only Val's steady hands keeping the Reaper's sickle dry. Still, while Co chewed his nails to a pulp and I gripped my knees, Val looked calm, almost sleepy. Working the wheel and wrenching the emergency brake more often than the brake pedal, the man needed no advice on how to best handle our predicament. The drifting of the tires and the bumps of jumped curbs gave me the impression of a cheap carnival ride and then it happened…quietly. I realized I was having fun, looking around at the tense faces and Dom's comatose one, I was instantly ashamed that I was smiling. Smiling my ass, I’m grinning like an idiot. It had been such a long time since I had been in the company of a few good men my age that the camaraderie filled some need I'd been denying myself back in my small academic life.

       I thought back to my studio and the ants there diligently working away in their farms. These little complex companions had become my focus due to their incredible capacity for weak and stupid action when singled out. In fact, get a few together and they still have no sense, but observed in the grace and fluidity of their hill or farm and their every movement has a purpose; their every choice, a carefully rationed calculation. Once they reach a critical mass of antennae sets, each ant goes from zombie to mindful engineer. The real question is not whether this happens…but how? All throughout nature, it has been documented. A bee separated from the hive falls listless and dies without the closeness of its brethren. The theory of a collective unconscious isn't new but it's been difficult to prove until…"Ow! Damn! I'm shot!" The side of my head burned like it was scraped with red-hot sandpaper.

       Mr. Fox reached back without looking and gently stroked the wound, then eyed the faint amount of blood on his hand and made it clear "No you haven't! You've barely got a kiss, a bit far from the big fuck, ain't ya?” Relieved but oddly insulted, I ducked my head hoping to avoid the kind of intercourse that would lead to my final outercourse.

       Looking like he was losing a game of strip poker, Co took his sweatband and put it low on my forehead to stop my small but painful injury from bleeding into my eyes. Then the car went dark and Co disappeared.

Title: Confidence Men

Genre: Thriller

Age Range: 22-40

Word Count: 90,000

Author Name: Hanif S. Ali

Why it's a good fit

Many would agree that the times we live in are deeply troubled and those without firm belief systems find themselves not knowing where to look for answers on a day-to-day basis. Whether it's a school shooting in the States, to bombings in Aleppo, to drive-by's in London, Confidence Men is a tale of one place we all can find strength: in the stranger next to us. Confidence Men is not just relevant, but necessary because it takes a magnifying glass to the integrity in men's hearts. Philosophically, it skirts and explores the line between what makes a person good or evil, while simultaneously raising awareness of human trafficking, refugees and other social issues.

Hook

When four young professionals at the top of their game are blackmailed into joining the criminal underworld, only the depth of their combined intelligence and the power of the brotherhood they form stands between them and the dawn of the next World War.

Synopsis

If you’re orchestrating three significant heists across three countries, you’d want the very best criminals on the job – but, there’s a glaring issue: criminals, by their very nature, cut corners. The South African mercenary in charge of these heists, code name: Mr. Fox, can’t risk that behavior. So, what’s a soldier of fortune to do? Simple – abduct four high-profile figures with unparalleled skill sets and blackmail them into doing the jobs for you. The problem now? When four brilliant minds unite, even a veteran merc like Mr. Fox could turn from a predator into prey.

Target Audience

I have played some form of team sports for the majority of my life. Though my experiences on the field helped shape who I am, it has been my teammates throughout the years I relied on to cope with the difficulties life has thrown my way. Now, as an adult and teacher, I do not have much time for teammates and scoring goals; yet, as buildings fall, bombers and hackers attack our way of life, and the daily news feed is cluttered with chaos, climate change, terrorists and Brexit, I long for, now more than ever, that feeling of shared adversity and brotherhood to make sense of it all. Confidence Men is a book written for millennial men and women who feel like the world is out of control and wish they could physically fight back with a crack team in their corner.

Author Bio

Raised by a Muslim father and a Christian mother, I grew up in a house full of culture, ideas and fierce opinions in a city that consistently shelters people from every corner of the globe seeking the Happiest Place on Earth. My name is Hanif S. Ali and though I was born and raised in Orlando, FL, I feel more like a citizen of the world. I received my education at the University of Florida, graduating magna cum laude with degrees in English and Philosophy. Though my interests are eclectic – from painting to mentoring, attending concerts and physical fitness – it’s my lifelong love of reading that led me to become a media assistant in a library until I was approached to head the Composition program at a prestigious preparatory school in downtown Orlando. After several years teaching and designing curriculum, I founded a writing academy and worked to inspire other writers daily, while polishing my own craft.

My outlook on life is that of a realist and a problem solver, but my background as a philosopher adds an extra layer beneath all of my writings – a lens for those who see the bigger picture and read between the lines. From the names of my characters to the shades of gray in the hearts of my villains, there’s always something more to be found for those who are willing to look.

Platform

I have been a closet writer for nearly all of my literary life – until recently. For this reason, the social media-minded might find my platform somewhat paltry. That said, between Instagram, Facebook and Prose, I have approximately 1,200 followers, all of whom are real contacts that support me. My website is under development and can be found at www.hanifsali.com.

The Simon & Schuster challenge was one of our greatest accomplishments, and one of our most difficult undertakings to date. It was our first time working with a big publisher and taking challenges to a larger scale. Given the number and quality of entries, determining the top 50 was extraordinarily difficult. Having never done something like this before, we had to really bootstrap our selection criteria. 

We spent weeks reading through every single one of the entries as a team. The first criterion we used was grammar. Repetitive grammatical mistakes, and a lack of respect for English syntax in general, were grounds for disqualification. The second criterion was creativity. We looked for storytelling excellence, moving characters, inventive plots. We looked for content that captivated us, that we thought would enthrall others as well. After narrowing the list of entries by these two criteria, 166 remained. 

For each of these 166 entries, each team member assigned a subjective "quality rating" from one to five. We considered likes to break ties when the average quality score was too close to call. We wanted to include some democratic element in determining the winners, rather than solely rely upon our own subjective judgment. When all was said and done, we had found our 50 entries.

In reflection, our process was imperfect and we intend to do a better job in the near future. Here are some of the ideas we are considering:

1) Limited Voting. When the challenge ends, everyone gets a limited number of votes, and cannot use these votes on their own entry. We would use these votes to distill the pool of potential winners more democratically.

2) Electoral College. A panel of judges is either elected deliberately or selected randomly to read through the entries and determine the winners.

3) Gauntlet Tournaments. We select a few factors, a combination of judging panel, spell check, democratic votes, and other creative criteria, to advance the best content round-by-round, tournament-style.

We would love to hear your suggestions and ideas for improving our challenges.

Once again, congratulations to the winners and entrants alike. 

We are working hard to bring you more publishing opportunities.

The shrieking roc dives from the endless sky

Banshee's shrill scream urges me through thick sand

The breath of its colossal wings pass by

King of eagles blasts into the scorched land.

Black embers score my skin as the roc strains

In ebon sand that throbs with the sun's rays

I drink in the sand's power--fire floods my veins;

Set alight, I harness the charred sands' blaze.

A charcoal swell surges at my command--

Then twists away of its own strange accord

Given life by some invisible hand

The sand's black coils claim the sky's fallen lord.

I will never forget this novel feat

Of the sand that lives in the searing heat.

It was Internship Week for the fifth graders of Brimstone Elementary; however it had to start off in the most boring way possible. During the day it was announced to the students that they were to learn about the various business around their town, and are to be assigned to undertake temporary internship positions. But first they had to sit through a boring lecture from their teacher, Mr. Carney. The old man rambled on about how it was going to be a great experience for them, and how it was the next step to becoming responsible adults. To their youthful ears all they could interpret was blah, blah, blah.

Rosemary Gravely slouched in her desk as the teacher continued babbling on. Her eyes grew heavy with each dull sentence spoken. She glanced over to the far left of the classroom, where she saw her best friend Krystal texting away on her platinum cased cellphone that her family fortune could afford. 

She then lobbed her head onto her right. There she saw her other friend Kayleigh resting her head on her books. Rosie thought she was lucky to sleep through the whole lecture. 

A pair of fingers jabbed into her Rosie's shoulder. She turned and found another one of her friends in the same classroom, Ashley. She did not have to whisper in order to interpret what she was thinking. Instead she place two of her fingers on her right temple, imitating the shape of a handgun. Her thumb pulled back on the imaginary hammer and fired. At least it was a swift execution, what with her head jerking about as the imaginary bullet richotted inside her skull. Her eyes crossing together and her tongue flew out of her mouth.

The eldest Gravely child snorted a muffled laugh so her teacher couldn't see or hear what they were doing. She then turned to the front of the room and saw her other friend, Joshua, scribbling down in his notebook. He was always the good student, taking notes whenever necessary. Rosie didn't mind that about him at all, at least it kept him busy; though what no one realized or even had a glance at were decorative doodles that Joshua drew to avert his attention away from the boring lecture.

Mr. Carney continued his monologue, "Alright, here are your internships." He passed around small envelopes around to all the students. "Make sure your temporary employers sign your papers and write a five page report about what you learned from the business you worked at."

The school bell rang. At long last it was 3 o'clock. Schools out! The students all rushed out the door like a mad cattle stampede. Rosemary and her friends all walked out together, exchanging what they got for temporary internships. 

"Toads awesome!" Krystal praised, flashing her business card about, "I'm interning at your mom, Rosie. And your dad too, Kayleigh. Soon the camera is going to be on me. I'm gonna be famous!"

"Cool beans, Krystal," Rosemary complied, "I get to work at the local radio station. Time for everyone to listen to Rosemary's Rocking Rock & Roll hits!"

Kayleigh added, "Neat! I'm going to be working at the bakery. What about you, Ash?"

Ashley did not say a word. Instead she smiled and passed around the business card that she received from her envelope. 

"Sawyer-Patterson Paleontology Labs." Kayleigh read, "Sounds cool."

"My dad has some friends that work there," Ashley signed, which her friends were able to interpret, "Should be pretty fun."

"What about you, Joshua?" Krystal then asked. "What did you get?"

Joshua was silent for a moment, staring into the small card in his hand. "Something my mom is definitely not going to like."

And like a bad penny, there stood their principal and Josh's mother, Mrs. Wordsworth. Dressed so holier than thou compared to the rest of the students and facility. She looked so plain and ordinary with her dark green gown and dress, her stockings, and her black shoes. She prided over her small, silver cross that weighted around her neck. So flossed and perfected. She made sure everyone saw it as glorious as she did.

"Hello children," Mrs. Wordsworth gave her students and son a warm greeting. Her eyes glared at Rosemary, "Gravely," She scowled.

Rosemary returned a similar glare back at her principal. She was fully aware of Wordsworth's spitefulness towards her and her family, not just on the account that she wound up in her office now and then. Though Mrs. Wordsworth garnered more hatred towards Rosie's stepfather, as those who remained faithful did and still do.

Principal Wordsworth exclaimed, "I just wanted to see how things were starting off with your interns. This is a big moment for your young lives. As it says in Psalm 90:17, May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands."

"Right," Rosemary murmured while rolling her eyes. The rest of her friends followed too.

"So Joshua," she continued, "I hope you got something exciting."

"It's something alright," her only son gave a nervous chuckle.

"Well let's see it."

"That's okay. We can talk about it later."

"Nonsense!" the principal swiped away her son's card. "Whatever you received as a position I'll be proud of you, dear."

Mrs. Wordsworth inspected the small business card. So small. It had a red color with a golden outline around the corners. There was even a watermark. But what she read made her heart stop. Her face froze. Her body stiffened. Completely petrified. 

And like a domino she tipped over on her back. She hit the tiled flooring so fast she was out cold. Rosemary, Joshua, and the others all rushed to check on their fainted principal. What she read on the business card could only come from her darkest nightmares.

Devil, it read. Inferno Incorporated.

Back to the past. Back to the past, Samurai Jack. Whatcha!

Jack is back in the final complete season of one of Cartoon Network’s greatest animated series of all time, Samurai Jack. For those unfamiliar, Samurai Jack is an animated series that ran on Cartoon Network from 2001-2004, and was created by Gennedy Tartakovsky, who has done other works such as Dexter’s Lab, Powerpuff Girls, and directed the Hotel Transylvania movies. The story is about how an ancient evil named Aku has risen once again to conquer the world. A young samurai goes out to put an end to this evil with the aid of a magic sword that is capable of harming the demonic entity. But during their first confrontation he is transported into the future (it happens). There, going by the name of “Jack”, he sets out on a quest that will hopefully take him back to the past to vanish Aku’s grasp once and for all. And throughout the series it is just pure action and awesome.

The best thing about the series is that most of the episodes don’t have a lot of dialogue yet it makes up with it with amazing animation and outstanding action that help tell the episode’s story. It was so amazing that it was a shame that the series never had a proper conclusion. Now Season 5 is that conclusion that we fans have waited so long for. It’s been fifty years since Jack has been transported to the future, and a side effect to this is that he does not age. All the time portals have been destroyed and Jack still does his best to protect the innocence, even though he lost his iconic, magic sword, which I don’t completely understand how that was possible. Did he not look for it? This is the part where Billy Madison would say you got a sword, you have a responsibility. If your sword is lost you don’t look for an hour and call it quits. You get your ass out there and you find that fucking sword! Any who, at the same time he must also face assassins from an Aku-worshiping cult dubbed the Daughters of Aku, who have spent their entire lives sheltered and trained to kill the samurai. 

Oh my fuck, this is the season fans and I have waited for so long to see. It is absolutely beautiful. 

The animation this season looks the same as it was before and it still looks amazing. It looks as though they brought the whole crew back.

The voice talent is great as well. Voice actor Phil LaMarr reprises his iconic role as Jack, and he still sounds just as fantastic as he did before. If you need an idea who Phil LaMarr is, here’s a list of your favorite characters that he’s voiced for the past two decades.

      1. Static - Static Shock

      2. Hermes - Futurama

      3. Kit Fisto - Star Wars: The Clone Wars

      4. Aquaman - Young Justice, Injustice

      5. Wilt - Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends

      6. Vulgrim - Darksiders series

      7. Ratbag - Shadow of Mordor

      8. Green Lantern/John Stewart - Justice League, Justice League Unlimited

      9. Ollie Williams - Family Guy

Need I say more? 

And who is voicing one of the Daughters of Aku? None other than my soulmate Tara Strong. To list her greatest roles I would have to make a whole new post. She voices the assassin named Ashi, who seems to be the individual of the group. And Tara does a great job portraying this character. Actually I really like Ashi. She’s a great addition to this series. At first she started off as this assassin whose sole purpose was to kill Jack but the more she is with him she learns that the world is not what she’s been taught. She has been taught that Aku is god and the samurai is evil. Then she learns the truth and she actually tries to do some good. I like that aspect.

Now let’s talk about Aku because this one is a pretty big deal. In the first 4 seasons he was voiced by legendary Japanese actor Mako Iwamatsu, whom some may recognize as the voice of Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender. A hero is only as great as his villain, and Aku was definitely one of my all time favorite villains, mostly in part by Mako’s amazing voice-over work. Sadly Mako died in 2006 due to cancer so to replace him they hired voice actor Greg Baldwin. To be fair he does a really good impression of the late Mako. When he was voicing Iroh in Avatar, you could hardly tell the difference. But when he’s voicing Aku, there’s a big difference in tone and vocals. Buy hey, at least the guy is giving his best effort. Yet it makes me miss Mako even more.

Just a heads up, I know I don’t normally dive into spoiler territory but there is some stuff I really want to talk about throughout this season. So a spoiler warning is in effect. You can skip this or not. Doesn’t matter because there’s a lot of shit I want to discuss because it’s worth talking about.

SPOILER ALERT!

So let’s get the biggie out of the way: Jack killed some people this season. And I do mean people, as in human beings. The violence has been turned up a dial in this season. Most of the violent content back then was toned down with Jack slaying robots. But this time he was forced to kill the Daughters of Aku that were trying to kill him. There’s no explosions or oil splatter, there is blood in this season. How does he take this? He’s devastated. This was the first time he’s ever killed a person and it haunts him. That’s another thing I liked about this whole season, Jack is mentally unstable. He gets into arguments with a younger version of his conscience, and he’s being followed by this mysterious rider through half the season.

As much as I love seeing Jack in this state, at the same time it’s very depressing. Jack has officially given up all hope. Yeah, he won’t stop protecting the innocent and aiding the weak but his nature has pretty much become so nihilistic. It’s sad to see him just give up. Hell, he’s even considered committing suicide until Ashi snapped him back to reality.

And for you fans of the series, Scotsman makes a return! The Scotsman (voiced by the ever-so amazing John DiMaggio) was such a great recurring character in the series that it pleases me to see him return, only to die in the beginning of episode 5. But hey, he died as he lived, spewing insults. Can’t think of a better way to ax someone off than that. What I liked about that episode as well was Jack showing Ashi the real world and how Aku has actually ruined it, despite what she was taught at an early age.

Episode 6, holy shit, it was absolute fan service. Ashi is out in the world looking for Jack where she comes across lots of familiar faces from previous episodes such as the Woolies, the blind archers, and Da Sam-Moo-Rai. Oh god it was just eye-candy for fans and I loved it all. Episode was like you fucking remember this shit? You fucking remember that shit? Fuck yeah I remember. I fucking loved that shit! I fucking loved this episode! Probably my favorite this whole season.

But then we got to learn something disturbing in that same episode. That suit that Ashi and her sisters were wearing the entire time, it’s not a suit. Turns out that in a flashback that the High Priestess stripped her and her sisters (yeah there was some uncomfortable child nudity in this one) into this pit full of like tar or something, and I guess that stuff fused to her skin. Pretty disturbing upon first viewing. But Ashi decided to change that, scrubbed off the tar, and outfitted herself a dress of leaves, which actually looked good on her not gonna lie. I like how symbolically Ashi is cleansing herself of her past and becoming reborn as a better person to follow in Jack’s footsteps. And I also liked the part where she’s skinny dipping in that pool of water too. Tee-hee! X)

Episode 7 came and holy crap that was an epic episode. Jack found his inner peace and regained his sword and signature look, while Ashi wrecked an entire army by herself. I officially love Ashi now. 

Episode 8 is, honestly, really strange. It tried establishing a romance with Jack and Ashi, which I really didn’t buy at all. Yet the two end up kissing in the end with a Dean Martin song playing over the credits. It wasn’t necessary a bad episode, but it just felt out of place compared to the rest of the season’s episodes and was pretty underwhelming. Also the odd number of sex jokes thrown in there really made it uncomfortable. 

Episode 9, god damn! Aku and Jack finally have their confrontation, and it is here it was revealed that Ashi is in fact the biological daughter of Aku. And with that he is able to control her against her will. I love Aku, but man this was the dickest move he’s ever done; and he’s done a lot of dick moves throughout the series. Using the woman he loves to fight him is absolute cock. But that’s not the jaw dropping moment of the whole episode, little lone the whole series. Jack surrendered to Aku. DAAAAMMMNN!

Now we’ve come to the series finale. God damn was this epic. All of Jack’s friends and allies come to battle Aku and free Jack, and then Jack helps Ashi break free of Aku’s control, and then Ashi learns that she being his daughter she has his powers too. So ultimately they use that power to travel back to the past, just as Jack had set out to do from the beginning. Then finally, after all these years, Jack kills Aku, and it was glorious.

Unfortunately without Aku, Ashi can no longer exist so she fades away, which was really sad. God damn! Why play with my emotions? Oh well it was a very fitting conclusion to an already epic series.

This season has been fantastic. It fills my heart with joy now that one of my all time favorite series was given a proper conclusion. Fans have waited so long for one and now we got one. The list of positives are too many to count but I did it anyway. If you haven’t seen this series yet, then obviously go watch it. Right now! 

Out of all the television revival shows being broadcast over the decade, this was one that deserved it. This was a love letter to the dedicated fans of the series and I am definitely satisfied with what was given. Who knows, maybe a revival of this series can give hope to Tartakovsky’s other show, Sym-Bionic Titan, being revived too. Or Butch Hartman can revive Danny Phantom. Who knows what the future will hold, but it certainly makes this fan hopeful. Back to the grading, back to the grading, Harry Situation!

                                Positives:                                     Negatives:

                               -Cast and crew back!                   -I miss Mako :’(

                               -Animation still great                  -Episode 8

                               -Darker tone

                               -Jack & Ashi working together

                               -Amazing story throughout

                               -Upped the violence

                               -Mature for fans

                               -Jack’s unstable psyche

                               -Callbacks to previous episodes

                               -Final curtain 

                               -Love letter to the fans

Whatcha! Final Grade: A+

My childhood has finally been completed. Thank you so much Gennedy Tartakovsky for creating such an epic animated series that we’ll watch for generations; and thank you Phil LaMarr for voicing one of the greatest animated heroes of all time.

So there’s my review of the final season of Samurai Jack. Have you seen the series? What were your thoughts? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check back again for more Harry Situation Reviews here on Prose.com! Whatcha!

Best Quote:

Ashi: “Hope lives! It is everywhere! I’ve seen it. Everyone you have touched. The people you have helped. You saved them!”

#harrysituationreviews #television #opinion #animation #cartoon #action #fantasy #sciencefiction #samurai #nostalgia #finale #AGrade

The real estate agent tells her to reconsider. She says she has some truly amazing houses to show before she makes a decision. But I’m watching Evelyn not listen to her, and I see how she looks at the place with that little half smile of hers, that twitch of the finest lines around her mouth, wrinkling and smoothing over in an instant, and I know that nothing is going to dissuade her from purchasing this shitty, dilapidated house.

Friends and family make their appeals. She tells them I know I’ve heard the rumors, that’s all they are, rumors raised from nothing, created for the sake of gossip and for scaring naive outsiders, do people talk of nothing else in this shitty little hick town.

I only want what Evelyn wants, it’s been so long since she's wanted anything. I think she'll finally be able to start over here, maybe this will make her forget and live. But people keep telling her things she doesn't want to hear and they all sounded like variations of a theme, so finally she stops answering calls altogether.

I’m worried about the amount of work needed to make this thing halfway livable and Evelyn looks so wan and lost all the time. Here she is alone with this monster derelict house and each day is spring cleaning and after that there is still more work to be done.

Evelyn works sunup until she collapses in bed at night.

I'm sick of these halfway places, she says to no one. 

Evelyn, pretty Evelyn, I’ll never forget the day I ran after you in the rain, barefoot in the park, with Caleb just beginning to jut out of your stomach, and I was running after you yelling for you to stop, scared but laughing because you were laughing and you were beautiful in the rain with your hair dripping down your face, you were so goddamned beautiful, it hurt to look at you.  

Now you walk around tired and quiet, with those sunken hungry eyes.

When was the last time you laughed?

Slowly the house becomes whole again. She polishes until every surface gleams, she puts in new windows, paints, organizes, reassembles. Her room upstairs overlooks the garden and pond in the back of the house. 

There are things here, hidden in the silence, that I don’t like to think about. And the force that drives Evelyn to fix this place—that scares me even more. 

Caleb was two years old. He was the perfect baby, quiet and uncomplaining. We worried that he was sleeping too much, too often and too deeply, and not eating enough. We were good at fretting—everything seemed like a potential disaster. 

You brought us here with you, didn’t you, I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to shake her, grip her by the shoulder so hard that she could feel my nails digging in her skin. You disturbed our baby's rest, how could you do it, Caleb just two years old and a barely visible lump underneath the blankets. You dug us up, God knows how you did it, you had to work with my decomposing weight and Caleb like a limp doll tucked under your arm. (They told you to cremate and you said no). Caleb he loved the color blue, he loved entwining his tiny perfect hands in his mother’s hair and pulling, he loved to sleep. A deep sleep, almost impossible to wake up. 

Sometimes at night after another exhausting day, I’ll keep watch over my wife’s sleeping form. She curls up in a fetal position with her hands protecting her stomach.

Evelyn, I heard a laugh I swear I heard it, last night it came from downstairs. I couldn’t tell where it could have come from, or if it were male or female or even human, but I know I’ve never heard it before, and you were asleep. And sometimes in that area she calls the living room, there’s voices and footfalls, the swish of clothing, things clattering to the floor.

Sometimes I hear her singing around the house. Once, I heard her laugh and that sound broke around the house, and all throughout it, and the silence was quieter afterwards.

She doesn't eat. Her sunken little face and the bruised sockets, the limp wrists, and sharp edges of her hip and ribs—I can't take it.

She is fading into the house. I'm helpless. She no longer has eyes I can recognize, those aren’t the hands I loved and held and promised to protect throughout life, death, world without end. She teeters up and down the halls, in and out of rooms. I hear her talk to things I can't see. She leaves me; she goes where I can’t follow. She’s so thin and translucent, sunlight streaming from the windows looks strong enough to hurt her, to melt her away. She floats on drafts throughout the house, and mirrors hide her passing.

The voices are so beautiful she says and I didn’t believe her but I see now. The whole house swells with their presence, with colors bursting and small ripples of light extending, and they are calling where are you and I say here I am here I am here—and they welcome me with voices raised and over the singing and the echoes of ringing colors I hear the voices of so many loved ones, I see Evelyn and she is holding in her arms our son and they are coming for me