The Minutemen

Since September 11, 2008

New Jersey, United States 

Back in the day, an' I mean way back, the New World was up for grabs. And it was bloated Kings doin' most of the grabbin'. See, there's this disease that afflicts all men -- Kings in particular -- that there is only one cure for. And that cure is gold. Once the word got around that the Spaniards had found the cure here, every Monarch wanted a piece. But there was a group of people -- thirteen to be exact -- that didn't want just a piece...they wanted it all.

Now, it's true that gold can make Kings, but these folks, they weren't interested in becoming royalty. Their sights were set a mite higher.

What kinda folks wouldn' want to be Kings, you ask? I'll tell you: The kind that understand Kingdoms come and go, and the only way to last forever...is to not ever exist.

See, a King may rule, but the real power is in the hands a those who can make...or break 'em. That's been the way it is...forever. And while these folks had been around just about as long...the idea of creating a binding Trust was new. Before that, they were like Kings -- always lookin' for a piece of what another might have. But when they all realized that robbin' from each other was a waste of time...an' what joining together could mean? They came up with a plan, one that would take their thorny selves out of the King's side...and stick it in a land where a King would have no purchase. Where the thirteen of 'em would have the freedom and the liberty to shape a nation in their own image.

So they presented this fair deal to the Kings: You leave what's left of the New World to us...and we will leave your shores forever. The Kings didn't say boo...they said "No." Maybe 'cause they were scared of the thieves. Or maybe they thought the offer was just that -- an offer. There was a Queen, even went so far as to put her foot down...on Roanoke Island, where England established its first colony, with the intent on claimin' a big piece of the all for herself. Now England had been there a couple a times before, but nothin' stuck. Sendin' women an' children with the men meant sure it would.

This didn't set with the thirteen families. They'd made a generous offer, they thought, and to have it rebuffed pissed 'em off, 'cause -- well, they were tryin' to do business. So they sent seven men to send a message that they meant it. These seven were plucked out of the hands that could make an' break rules, an' were given only one to follow...

Don't ever let anybody -- including us -- fuck with us.

They were the Minutemen -- the law...set upon Roanoke to enforce it. Seven men, stone cold killers in the dead of night, walked through the colony and made certain...that no one there...not a man, a woman, nor even a child...would walk out.

When the seven were done with their job, they left seven letters, in a language that no one but the Kings would understand...CROATOA (This belongs to us).

Thirteen families.

Seven men.

One hundred and nineteen dead.

This belongs to us.

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