It was a dark day. Thunder rolled as lightning danced across the open plains and Anthony Casimire stood, clouded by confusion and frustration, clenching his fists in near explosive agony. He had done everything they asked of him, and still, there was no hope of success. It was time for action, and action would finally end it.

It began before, not so long ago, in the office of some unnamed financial peon suboordinated by the university. The topic for discussion was a college loan, and it was progressing wonderfully. All the details were worked out, all the paperwork was signed and documented- a smile and a handshake and all was well, our Casimire was on his way.

Something happened. It was discovered that a loan was not necessary, that the funds for a payment may already be at hand. As a loan can create years and years of painful paymaking long into later life, Casimire's quest quickly came to a resolution of restructuring his financial plan, and to appropriate the changes, he again sought out the financial peon with whom he'd first spoken. That advisor cheerily took his first payment and gave him a brief explanation as to how the online payment system worked. After which he was sent on his way. He set out to set up his online payment profile on the University's website. Which is where everything went to hell.

He called around. "The website wants my bank account number and I gave it to them and it says no good, it also wants me to send a first payment and I already paid that one, all of my information is bad, and nothing is working."
The peons, the useless standing pile of human infidelity created only to hold the architects of reason at the top, were utterly without a solution. Phones rang, numbers were transferred, and our friend, the good Anthony Casimire watched his world slowly swirl down the toilet bowl of the university's infrastructure to tune of the elevator music playing peacefully over the phone on hold. For endless hours and wastes of time, he toiled and struggled, jumping through hoops and landing in crap, only to roll over and face the same predicament over and over again. No matter what he tried, no matter what they said, nothing was working, until he found an angel.

"Hello?"
"Ooh..."
"...Hello?"
"Lady I don't know who you are, but I've got a sad story to tell you... A really sad story."
"... okay. I'm listening."

Anthony Casimire, in a drunken-like state of red-tape weathering on his mind, conveyed the events of the past few days, and the absolute impossibilty of his situation. He spared no details, and something happened.

"Here's what you need to do-"
His eares perked up.
"There is a building, and within that building there may be one who can help you. I must warn you now, there may be great resistance, you have met them before and they are only peons, she is your only hope. Let nothing stop you, and let no one impede your progress. You must cut through them like a hot blade through margarine, until you find... the door."
"The door?" Casimire whispered excitedly.
"I can only show you the door, it is you who must choose to pass through it. She will be through that door, and it is she who is your last hope of salvation..."

Casimire listened carefully, he drank in every word, and when he had all he needed to know, he thanked her and went. He stood now before the building, shrouded in doubt, but desperate enough to attempt anything. There is perhaps one thing that no one could deny about his bedraggled self, and it was that if nothing else:
He certainly was prepared.
Cocking both uzi's with a commanding click and shoving between the folds of his long tenchcoat, he lowered the sunglasses over his eyes and checked the bindings on his boots a final time. Then he entered, the path before him stretched out like a long, impossible eternity with but a single point, his salvation at the end. Everything between was no more than static.
He entered the lobby.
"Hi there! Welcome to our financial aid office- can I help y-"
RATATATATATATATATAT!!!! Gunfire roared and the receptionist was blown back in a hail of bullets. Casimire turned, saw two more bolting towards him-
"Have you seen our easy to use website?"
RATATATATAT!!!!
"Have you talked to our admissions office about your financial options?"
RATATATATATATAT!!!!

Casimire lunged forward, bolting down the halls, two empty clips fell form the uzi's and he spun them down, connecting them to the spare clips on his belt, they locked securely into place, and he continued to run. The hallway filled with nameless, faceless persons, shouting hollow advice and offering mediocre suggestions.
"I told you people! I'VE TRIED THIS ALL BEFORE!" The tips of his guns ignited in flame and smoke and dozens of flying projectiles blitzed from the barrels and went searing through the air into the scattered resistance. The sound of shell casings and bodies simultaneously crashing to the floor echoed in sadistic symphony... The guns in his palms shook with terrifying rythm as he ran, screaming in a fury of energy. Secretaries and receptionists dove for him time and time again as he tore down the hall, only to be blown away by the stream of metal. The right gun clicked wildly, the second clip empty. A man was advancing, and Casimire redirected the left. A line of shrapnel carved into the wall like a violent stripe of chaos, crossing through the man and filling the air with dust and chips of the building. The left gun clicked out and Anthony dropped them both, still he ran. There it was! He saw it in the distance, standing alone like the solitary ray of light in the end of this long dark tunnel. He was nearly there! Only a few more steps!
WHAM!!!! He flew sideways in the sudden impact. He rolled to his feet and spun to see what had hit him.
"It's simple, all you have to do is create a user ID and enter your account information." The man growled.
Somewhere in the distance a spat of wind was picking up speed, it spun through the air, whipping wildly as it neared the building littered with death. It found a hole and blew through a window broken by bullets and so many shards of shrapnel, carving down the hallway past the man facing our hero. "You have no more guns, what do you think you can do? You can't proceed until you have a valid user ID!"

The wind reached Casimire and blew past, flaring his trenchcoat and revealing the shaft of a long and wicked Katana. Anthony Casimire smiled.

With a ringing scrape the blade erupted from its sheath and into the freedom of the air still wafting with the dust of destruction. The eyes of the man, this nameless impotence, this obstacle in the path of a righteous quest, went wide with terror.
Casimire lunged forward, blade high, adrenaline pouring through his viens. The blade moved, backed by an untold energy surging powerfully through the arms and hands of this unstoppable factor.

From the exterior of the structure, passing students watched in wonder and awe as a man exploded violently through a solid brick wall, flying backwards into the air with brick dust and granite in his wake. The hole created framed the weary sillouette of a single man with a sword, standing upright in a hallway littered with bodies. The form turned, and dissapeared once again into the mire of chaos.

Casimire stood before the door nearly shaking, he checked left, checked right, and peered warily over his shoulder. Everything had been done... everything... This was it. His shaking hand reached forward and rested lightly on the shining brass handle of the doorway... He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and took a strong breath. His hand turned and grasped the handle firmly, turned it, and threw it open.

He found himself standing in light.
"You have journeyed far..." Said a voice. "What is it you seek?"
"I..." He stammered. "I just want to pay for college. That's all, I just want to pay for my college!"
"Then you have come to the end of your quest. Here is an address, take it, write a check and send your payments there. And all will be well."
Casimire took the address and stammered a thank you. Then he turned... and began walking the long hallway home. It was, at long last... over.

(Dedicated to Anthony Casimire, best of luck with the lest of college mate! ;)