Here's another thing they do on the Garrison Forum, that might be fun to try here, it's a story in the round. I wrote this a long time ago, it's the start of a fan-fiction story, but I never finished it, so I need you guys to take the story from where I left off, and finish it. I posted this same story on the Garrison site, so it'll be interesting to watch it grow into two different stories with two different groups working on it. Here goes. . . The monk paced back and forth across the classroom, his mechanical spider legs clicking on the tiled floor. "Well" He asked "Do you have an answer, Mr. Palpatine?" Little Frank Palpatine thought for a moment, "Um . . . " He'd forgotten once again to study the assigned chapter on Jedi history, and was utterly clueless as to the answer to the question. While children in other parts of the galaxy might have felt it strange to be taught Jedi History by a monk whose brain was floating in a spherical jar on a robotic spider body. Palpatine had grown used to it. Having grown up in a private religious school, all of Palpatine's teachers had been monks. The monk's were strict, humorless, and as a rule, completely unlikable. All of the children hated school at Saint Utlack's Grammar School, and Palpatine hated it worst. He was small for his age, standing about a head shorter than any of the other boys in his grade. He also had flaming red hair and a face covered in freckles, and wore orthodontic headgear. He did not excel academically, did significantly worse artistically, and far far worse athletically. Needless to say, he was not the most popular kid in school, with either students or faculty. Not a day went by when Palpatine wasn't taunted, humiliated or thourougly tortured by the other boys. He had been beaten up, swirleed, sprayed with blue milk, hung from his feet, and had his locker filled with Eoppi dung. He tolerated it at the school for two reasons. The first was because his father worked so hard to send him there. John Palpatine worked in the mines at the Theed Palace, and wanted a better life for his son. The middle-class father had his heart filled with the idea that his soon might someday become a senator, or maybe even chancellor. The other reason little Frank Palpatine tolerated the school, was Betsy Amidala. Girls had separate classes from the boys, but sometimes he'd see Betsy in the halls or the cafeteria. She was a vision, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. She was the only person in the school that was ever nice to him, and he loved her for it. Even though they'd only ever shared a handful of words. She had told him of how her older brother was in politics, and how even now in his twenties he planned to encourage his children towards politics. Why someday, Betsy's niece might be Queen of Naboo, but then, Betsy didn't even have a niece yet. Palpatine had enjoyed this conversation, despite it's political nature, because it reminded him of his own father's hopes for him. Betsy was so intelligent and open minded, and. . . . "Francis Xavier Palpatine" The monk was now yelling through his electronic speaker box "Do you have an answer to the question or not?" "Um. . . " He realized now that his thoughts had drifted off and now he couldn't even remember the question. One boy laughed. The boy Palpatine hated most. More then any other boys he hated, and he hated a lot. Finis Valorum! Palpatine hated him, not only because he was popular and tall, and a straight A student, but because rumor was, Betsy was in love with him. This ate at Palpatine's heart like Mynoks eat at power cables. He hated Valorum with his entire being. "MR PALPATINE!!!" yelled the Monk again "THE ANSWER!?!?!?!"