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This is a fictional story not based on a game of any sort. Just a story I have been plotting out in my mind day by day. In the story you'll find a few undertones and similarities to real worlds current issues. Anyway, enjoy the first segments 
In 1978 during the Agorian Conflict, Greece was simultaneously attacked by the Egyptians from the southern isthmus of Giza and north by the Persians from the Herat Heights. During the stages of the war, Greece was at first overcome by the sheer numbers of the attacking forces. However, their modern army, equipped with superior technology in mechanical infantry support turned the tides of battle. By mid summer of 1981, Greece had captured the Egyptian isthmus as well as the Persian City of Herat. There was an uneasy peace after the signing of a treaty and since then peace has remained. It is now 15 years later and that peace is once again being threatened…
The well-lit room was relatively quiet, besides for the on and off humming of the air condition or abstract movements of a bold-faced pin, scratching across a piece of paper. To the left of the room, stood two cushy chairs just parallel from each other. Straight ahead there was an open window, which provided the room with little luminescence since it was nearly 11:00 at night. To the immediate right, laid a brown-wood desk, from where the stroking sounds of the pen originated. The wielder of the pen and the architect of the paper was none other then Abe Lincoln, president of the United Sates of America. Lincoln himself was as quiet as the Washington night. He seemed almost completely absorbed by his writing as he in-scripted every single word with scrupulous detail and attention. The President paused for a moment, letting the pin stop on the final curve of the letter "n" of the word "negotiation". Just before he could continue on with his work, a barely audible knocking reverberated from the door.
"Come in." He said plainly, not bothering to look up from five-paragraph speech before him.
The doorknob slowly rotated and in stepped Kenneth Duffy, the International and Diplomatic Advisor to Lincoln. Duffy was a rather pale man, who stood at only 5'3 in height. He was small fry compared to the tall giant that was Lincoln. Still, he was a loyal advisor and a close companion of Lincons. Duffy swiftly plodded across the office until halting in front of the desk. In his right hand were about four documents, each one neatly stapled together.
"Mr. President." he nodded and went on. "There was a suicide bombing..."
"In Herat at a Grecian Hotel. Twelve Grecian by standers were killed. Two diplomats, one American and three other persons of Persian descent were seriously injured" Lincoln chimed in, literally taking the words from the mouth of a speechless Duffy.
Duffy shifted through two pages of the packet, pausing for a moment as his eyes went back and forth across the page. “Correct, how did you know?”
Lincoln grasped for his sliver-tented remote, laying out on the desk to the right. Without looking up he turned on the television, centered against the opposite wall of the office. As if to answer Duffy’s question, the national news appeared, covering the incident in Herat.
“And I saw that same report six hours ago on another channel...What the hell is going on with my intelligence agency?”
Lincoln finally looked up toward Duffy who simply shrugged his shoulders and put the report on the left side of his desk. “Maybe if you paid them more, sir. They have complained that the department is under funded.”
“Maybe if I sent out pink slips and forced retirement notices, I would receive more timely information.” he said with a chuckle.
Duffy laughed lightly “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“How is Alexander taking it?” he asked Duffy, eyes wondering back to the speech.
“Not well, he threatens a serious retaliation against PLF (Persian Liberation Front) radicals and Persian Government.”
“On what grounds does he have to attack the Persian government?”
“He claims that they’re supporting the PLF with weaponry, money, and possibly nuclear material.”
“That can’t be. Xerxes agreed to the Nuclear Contraband Treaty. He knows good and well that the word community will ride him up rail for violating it.”
“Intelligence say that Xerxes might be doing other wise, sir.”
“Intelligence can kiss my ass as far as I’m concerned right now.” Lincoln paused for a moment as he stroked his chin.
“What’s wrong, sir?” Duffy questioned, leaning in over the desk.
“I hate writers block.”
He smiled and headed out the door, leaving Lincoln to his thoughts.
The Presidential Limousine cruised along the city streets of Cincinnati, a three mile island city located in the middle of the river valley along the Appalachian Range. It was also the home to the Intelligence Agency, the destination of the car. In less then thirty minutes the limousine was pulling into the submersed garage of the eight-story building. The bright overhead lights of the garage glimmered off the limousine’s windows until it came to a complete stop in front of a revolving door. The last door on the vehicle opened and out stepped Lincoln, Duffy, and three of the best Secret Service members. The five-man group walked into the door, which was highly guarded by building security. They came out into the main lobby, by passing the guards who carried weapon detectors. The group continued down a curving hallway, which finally ended in front of a 10-inch glass door. Lincoln entered a five-digit code on a digital panel and in seconds the glass door slowly creaked open. As Lincoln and Duffy entered without the secret service, they instantly spotted the secretary of defense as well as the intelligence advisor. The secretary of defense was like any other man re-born from the military. Low cut hair, broad shoulders and row of stars and military awards, streaming across his shoulders. The intelligence advisor was quite the opposite however. She was a thin, shorthaired woman, who wore small-framed glasses and a snazzy business skirt to match.
“Good day, gentleman and women. Shall we get down to business?” Lincoln started off as he sat down in the seat at the head of the marble table.
Duffy was taking a seat beside Lincoln as secretary of defense spoke up. “Sir, as you have seen my recent report, are 3rd and 54th Calvary division in Hamburg, Germany have come under heavy opposition fire. Nine men were killed in the guerilla attacks and eight others injured. These kind of incident in Germany are occurring more and more frequently. By next year we estimate the American casualties to rise by an estimate of 120. Sir, we have to do something and fast.”
“What do you suggest, General Hawthorne?”
“My first option is to send more support, maybe send in the 19th infantry division to keep the peace. The other option is to pull out half of our troops and hope the United Nations will donate some peacekeepers to the cause. Of course the choice is up to you, Sir.”
“The second option is highly unlikely right now. Russia, Spain and the Ottomans have already voted out half our proposals towards stabilizing Germany. I’ll consider throwing more troops at the problem, but for now we’ll have to sit on our hands and wait. How about the Grecian-Persian conflict, what’s your take on that?”
“I can answer that question Mr. President.” Maxine Shaw, the Intelligence Advisor said in her usual confident tone. “Apparently Alexander has made due with his threats. As you can see on the satellite images I had faxed to you earlier, there seems to be a vast mobilization of Mechanical Infantry and G-22 Tanks on the borders of Persia. He has also positioned lethal artillery on Herat Heights, for “defensive” measures. Xerxes has responded by repositioning strike jets outside of Susa and placing his Republican Guard ten miles from Herat. Xerxes is also denying any association with the Persian Liberation Front.”
“So what you’re telling me is that if we don’t diffuse this situation quickly, were going to have a serious war on are hands?”
“From the looks of it, Sir” she said with a nod.
“What are our options in a worse case event?”
“Well sir, we can put pressure on the United Nations to send Peacekeeping troops on the borders of the two nations. Of course they will be under heavy fire and I doubt they have the stomach for that. The other way is to continue peace talks with both nations and hope they come to terms.” The defense mister stated, knowing both choices would most likely become fruitless.
“You’re not leaving me with much to work with general. Hmm…let’s take a recess and see what happens tomorrow. In the mean time let’s pray for the best.”
With that, the cabinet walked out the room the last two being Duffy and Lincoln.
“You were quiet in their Duffy. You alright?”
“Oh yah, I’m good…just been kind of off it lately.” He responded, his voice trailing off.
“How’s your wife?”
“Huh?” he looked up at the president almost as if he had asked Duffy to marry him.
“Your wife Duffy. How is she?”
“Oh, she’s doing alright. The doctors say the cancer has stopped spreading.”
“That’s good. Just take it easy Duffy…after all your vacation leave is tomorrow.”
“I’ll enjoy it as much as I can, sir.”
The two slipped back into the limousine and after a roar of the engine, the car sped out the garage and onto the streets of Cincinnati.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was eerily placid on the border seperating Persia with Greece. It wasn’t a peaceful calm, however. It was a calm that instilled fear and paranoia on those standing in its midst. The calm and silence of the night seemed to invite chaos. It was a silence that would precede destruction…
A soviet-style mobile artillery vehicle by passed the iron-chained gates of a dilapidated car garage. Its grinding noise broke the delicate quiet of the night and stirred up the nocturnal animals that were around to witness its furry. In the drivers seat of this mechanical monster was a thin, hairy Persian man around the age of 25 or so. His mission was simple; to deliver the truck to an abandoned garage, just inside Grecian territory. Luckily or perhaps unluckily he had a friend who allowed him to smuggle such contraband weapons across the heavily enforced border. However, he and driver would become a minor character in incident that was about to play out. The vehicle had at last come to a stop in front of the seemingly inactive structure. This image was soon put to rest after the large, rusty garage door smoothly went upward. From the shadowy depths of the building came two men, one Egyptian, the other Persian. The driver quickly jumped out the car to meet his comrades with a handshake and a wide grin of success.
“Ah, you did it Afshad! It is beautiful!” the Egyptian exclaimed as he studied the truck and the pay load it totted.
“I did good job, yes?” Afshad yelped out like a little a child who awaited praise from his parents for doing a good deed.
“Very well. This will be perfect…” the third man answered.
“How much will you pay me for my work?” Afshad said eagerly holding out his hands for his just reward.
In return however, he only got a laugh. Afshad looked back and forth between the two men, becoming ever more confused and angry. “What? What is so funny?!”
The two stopped laughing and a malicious smirk crossed the face of the Egyptian. “You are.” Just as he finished that phrase, the Egyptian revealed a half-concealed shotgun. Afshad could only look on in horror as his fate was clearly decided. “BANG, BANG” The sound echoed across the area and silently faded away. By this time the Egyptian had turned his attention to the control panel, located below the five I-365 missiles sitting snuggly on their respective platforms. He wiped away the dust on the panel and flawlessly typed in the activation codes. His partner in crime had stepped over the bleeding chest of Afshad and was now looking over the Egyptians shoulder.
“Is it time?” the Persian whispered, looking around the vicinity for signs of anyone else.
“Yes.”
The Egyptian hit the white “Launch” button and instantly the first two I-365 missiles spewed flames from their bottoms. At first they struggled to take off, but after a moment they were shooting up in the air. The two men gazed on as the missiles simultaneously dissapeared from view. The missiles target was a Greek helicopter that always flew over the Greek settled areas of Herat during this time. The helicopters were old and outdated and did not consist of missile detectors or deterrents. The crew would virtually be left defenseless.
“Deos, it’s a smooth flight tonight, eh?” The co-pilot asked his pilot, trying to start a conversation on a seemingly boring round of security duty
“Yup, last night was just the same. They say that things are heating up on the border.”
“Pfft, that’s just a rumor spread by the head commander, so we won’t get lazy on the job. Personally, I can’t wait tell my shift is over…my mothers whipping up something good from the stove, fried kalamaraki.” He licked his lips as he thought about the mouth-watering meal waiting for him at home.
“Kalamaraki, huh? Maybe I’ll come over for dinner tonight.”
The two exchanged laughs for a moment until they heard a roaring sound in the distance.
“What’s that?” Delos screamed over the racket, which was increasing every second.
“I don’t know, it’s getting louder. Is it a jet?”
“Can’t be, they don’t fly over at night.” He answered back, looking out the window for the source.
“Maybe it’s a rocke…. HOLY sh*t! Look out!”
Instinctively, the pilot jerked the controlling stick right, forcing it just inches away from the cone shaped missile. The helicopter stalled in mid air for a minute before stabilizing. For a second they were alive and flabbergasted.
“What in Apollo’s name was that?! Was that a f**king missile?!”
“I don’t know, I don’t know! I’m going to call in at home base and see they picked up that son of a b***h on radar.”
Delos attempted to steady his shaking hand as he nervously reached for the communications panel to contact home base. Unknown to the crew of two, a second missile was swirling unavoidable towards the back end of the helicopter. An explosion of shrapnel and fire gushed from the behind the cockpit, throwing the co-pilot forward and out the front window to his descending death. Delos was helplessly left strapped to his seat as intense heat went up the back of his neck and sharp glass shredded through his flight suite. The helicopter spiraled downward into a whirling mass of flames and twisted metal, before crashing into a residential building. A spectacular orange-reddish plume of fire rose into the air and finally dimmed into a climactic string of smaller explosions. Delos could feel a stream of warm blood pour out from his left side. He started to shake uncontrollably and an unnaturally cold feeling paralyzed his body. Delos was going into shock and he knew then that he would not survive to see tomorrow. In his mind he recited a brief prayer to the gods, hoping they would save him an honorable place in the fields of heaven. Two pilots died that night and four others living in the neighborhood perished as well. With the shattering of a silent night, came the shattering of peace…
In 1978 during the Agorian Conflict, Greece was simultaneously attacked by the Egyptians from the southern isthmus of Giza and north by the Persians from the Herat Heights. During the stages of the war, Greece was at first overcome by the sheer numbers of the attacking forces. However, their modern army, equipped with superior technology in mechanical infantry support turned the tides of battle. By mid summer of 1981, Greece had captured the Egyptian isthmus as well as the Persian City of Herat. There was an uneasy peace after the signing of a treaty and since then peace has remained. It is now 15 years later and that peace is once again being threatened…
The well-lit room was relatively quiet, besides for the on and off humming of the air condition or abstract movements of a bold-faced pin, scratching across a piece of paper. To the left of the room, stood two cushy chairs just parallel from each other. Straight ahead there was an open window, which provided the room with little luminescence since it was nearly 11:00 at night. To the immediate right, laid a brown-wood desk, from where the stroking sounds of the pen originated. The wielder of the pen and the architect of the paper was none other then Abe Lincoln, president of the United Sates of America. Lincoln himself was as quiet as the Washington night. He seemed almost completely absorbed by his writing as he in-scripted every single word with scrupulous detail and attention. The President paused for a moment, letting the pin stop on the final curve of the letter "n" of the word "negotiation". Just before he could continue on with his work, a barely audible knocking reverberated from the door.
"Come in." He said plainly, not bothering to look up from five-paragraph speech before him.
The doorknob slowly rotated and in stepped Kenneth Duffy, the International and Diplomatic Advisor to Lincoln. Duffy was a rather pale man, who stood at only 5'3 in height. He was small fry compared to the tall giant that was Lincoln. Still, he was a loyal advisor and a close companion of Lincons. Duffy swiftly plodded across the office until halting in front of the desk. In his right hand were about four documents, each one neatly stapled together.
"Mr. President." he nodded and went on. "There was a suicide bombing..."
"In Herat at a Grecian Hotel. Twelve Grecian by standers were killed. Two diplomats, one American and three other persons of Persian descent were seriously injured" Lincoln chimed in, literally taking the words from the mouth of a speechless Duffy.
Duffy shifted through two pages of the packet, pausing for a moment as his eyes went back and forth across the page. “Correct, how did you know?”
Lincoln grasped for his sliver-tented remote, laying out on the desk to the right. Without looking up he turned on the television, centered against the opposite wall of the office. As if to answer Duffy’s question, the national news appeared, covering the incident in Herat.
“And I saw that same report six hours ago on another channel...What the hell is going on with my intelligence agency?”
Lincoln finally looked up toward Duffy who simply shrugged his shoulders and put the report on the left side of his desk. “Maybe if you paid them more, sir. They have complained that the department is under funded.”
“Maybe if I sent out pink slips and forced retirement notices, I would receive more timely information.” he said with a chuckle.
Duffy laughed lightly “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“How is Alexander taking it?” he asked Duffy, eyes wondering back to the speech.
“Not well, he threatens a serious retaliation against PLF (Persian Liberation Front) radicals and Persian Government.”
“On what grounds does he have to attack the Persian government?”
“He claims that they’re supporting the PLF with weaponry, money, and possibly nuclear material.”
“That can’t be. Xerxes agreed to the Nuclear Contraband Treaty. He knows good and well that the word community will ride him up rail for violating it.”
“Intelligence say that Xerxes might be doing other wise, sir.”
“Intelligence can kiss my ass as far as I’m concerned right now.” Lincoln paused for a moment as he stroked his chin.
“What’s wrong, sir?” Duffy questioned, leaning in over the desk.
“I hate writers block.”
He smiled and headed out the door, leaving Lincoln to his thoughts.
The Presidential Limousine cruised along the city streets of Cincinnati, a three mile island city located in the middle of the river valley along the Appalachian Range. It was also the home to the Intelligence Agency, the destination of the car. In less then thirty minutes the limousine was pulling into the submersed garage of the eight-story building. The bright overhead lights of the garage glimmered off the limousine’s windows until it came to a complete stop in front of a revolving door. The last door on the vehicle opened and out stepped Lincoln, Duffy, and three of the best Secret Service members. The five-man group walked into the door, which was highly guarded by building security. They came out into the main lobby, by passing the guards who carried weapon detectors. The group continued down a curving hallway, which finally ended in front of a 10-inch glass door. Lincoln entered a five-digit code on a digital panel and in seconds the glass door slowly creaked open. As Lincoln and Duffy entered without the secret service, they instantly spotted the secretary of defense as well as the intelligence advisor. The secretary of defense was like any other man re-born from the military. Low cut hair, broad shoulders and row of stars and military awards, streaming across his shoulders. The intelligence advisor was quite the opposite however. She was a thin, shorthaired woman, who wore small-framed glasses and a snazzy business skirt to match.
“Good day, gentleman and women. Shall we get down to business?” Lincoln started off as he sat down in the seat at the head of the marble table.
Duffy was taking a seat beside Lincoln as secretary of defense spoke up. “Sir, as you have seen my recent report, are 3rd and 54th Calvary division in Hamburg, Germany have come under heavy opposition fire. Nine men were killed in the guerilla attacks and eight others injured. These kind of incident in Germany are occurring more and more frequently. By next year we estimate the American casualties to rise by an estimate of 120. Sir, we have to do something and fast.”
“What do you suggest, General Hawthorne?”
“My first option is to send more support, maybe send in the 19th infantry division to keep the peace. The other option is to pull out half of our troops and hope the United Nations will donate some peacekeepers to the cause. Of course the choice is up to you, Sir.”
“The second option is highly unlikely right now. Russia, Spain and the Ottomans have already voted out half our proposals towards stabilizing Germany. I’ll consider throwing more troops at the problem, but for now we’ll have to sit on our hands and wait. How about the Grecian-Persian conflict, what’s your take on that?”
“I can answer that question Mr. President.” Maxine Shaw, the Intelligence Advisor said in her usual confident tone. “Apparently Alexander has made due with his threats. As you can see on the satellite images I had faxed to you earlier, there seems to be a vast mobilization of Mechanical Infantry and G-22 Tanks on the borders of Persia. He has also positioned lethal artillery on Herat Heights, for “defensive” measures. Xerxes has responded by repositioning strike jets outside of Susa and placing his Republican Guard ten miles from Herat. Xerxes is also denying any association with the Persian Liberation Front.”
“So what you’re telling me is that if we don’t diffuse this situation quickly, were going to have a serious war on are hands?”
“From the looks of it, Sir” she said with a nod.
“What are our options in a worse case event?”
“Well sir, we can put pressure on the United Nations to send Peacekeeping troops on the borders of the two nations. Of course they will be under heavy fire and I doubt they have the stomach for that. The other way is to continue peace talks with both nations and hope they come to terms.” The defense mister stated, knowing both choices would most likely become fruitless.
“You’re not leaving me with much to work with general. Hmm…let’s take a recess and see what happens tomorrow. In the mean time let’s pray for the best.”
With that, the cabinet walked out the room the last two being Duffy and Lincoln.
“You were quiet in their Duffy. You alright?”
“Oh yah, I’m good…just been kind of off it lately.” He responded, his voice trailing off.
“How’s your wife?”
“Huh?” he looked up at the president almost as if he had asked Duffy to marry him.
“Your wife Duffy. How is she?”
“Oh, she’s doing alright. The doctors say the cancer has stopped spreading.”
“That’s good. Just take it easy Duffy…after all your vacation leave is tomorrow.”
“I’ll enjoy it as much as I can, sir.”
The two slipped back into the limousine and after a roar of the engine, the car sped out the garage and onto the streets of Cincinnati.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was eerily placid on the border seperating Persia with Greece. It wasn’t a peaceful calm, however. It was a calm that instilled fear and paranoia on those standing in its midst. The calm and silence of the night seemed to invite chaos. It was a silence that would precede destruction…
A soviet-style mobile artillery vehicle by passed the iron-chained gates of a dilapidated car garage. Its grinding noise broke the delicate quiet of the night and stirred up the nocturnal animals that were around to witness its furry. In the drivers seat of this mechanical monster was a thin, hairy Persian man around the age of 25 or so. His mission was simple; to deliver the truck to an abandoned garage, just inside Grecian territory. Luckily or perhaps unluckily he had a friend who allowed him to smuggle such contraband weapons across the heavily enforced border. However, he and driver would become a minor character in incident that was about to play out. The vehicle had at last come to a stop in front of the seemingly inactive structure. This image was soon put to rest after the large, rusty garage door smoothly went upward. From the shadowy depths of the building came two men, one Egyptian, the other Persian. The driver quickly jumped out the car to meet his comrades with a handshake and a wide grin of success.
“Ah, you did it Afshad! It is beautiful!” the Egyptian exclaimed as he studied the truck and the pay load it totted.
“I did good job, yes?” Afshad yelped out like a little a child who awaited praise from his parents for doing a good deed.
“Very well. This will be perfect…” the third man answered.
“How much will you pay me for my work?” Afshad said eagerly holding out his hands for his just reward.
In return however, he only got a laugh. Afshad looked back and forth between the two men, becoming ever more confused and angry. “What? What is so funny?!”
The two stopped laughing and a malicious smirk crossed the face of the Egyptian. “You are.” Just as he finished that phrase, the Egyptian revealed a half-concealed shotgun. Afshad could only look on in horror as his fate was clearly decided. “BANG, BANG” The sound echoed across the area and silently faded away. By this time the Egyptian had turned his attention to the control panel, located below the five I-365 missiles sitting snuggly on their respective platforms. He wiped away the dust on the panel and flawlessly typed in the activation codes. His partner in crime had stepped over the bleeding chest of Afshad and was now looking over the Egyptians shoulder.
“Is it time?” the Persian whispered, looking around the vicinity for signs of anyone else.
“Yes.”
The Egyptian hit the white “Launch” button and instantly the first two I-365 missiles spewed flames from their bottoms. At first they struggled to take off, but after a moment they were shooting up in the air. The two men gazed on as the missiles simultaneously dissapeared from view. The missiles target was a Greek helicopter that always flew over the Greek settled areas of Herat during this time. The helicopters were old and outdated and did not consist of missile detectors or deterrents. The crew would virtually be left defenseless.
“Deos, it’s a smooth flight tonight, eh?” The co-pilot asked his pilot, trying to start a conversation on a seemingly boring round of security duty
“Yup, last night was just the same. They say that things are heating up on the border.”
“Pfft, that’s just a rumor spread by the head commander, so we won’t get lazy on the job. Personally, I can’t wait tell my shift is over…my mothers whipping up something good from the stove, fried kalamaraki.” He licked his lips as he thought about the mouth-watering meal waiting for him at home.
“Kalamaraki, huh? Maybe I’ll come over for dinner tonight.”
The two exchanged laughs for a moment until they heard a roaring sound in the distance.
“What’s that?” Delos screamed over the racket, which was increasing every second.
“I don’t know, it’s getting louder. Is it a jet?”
“Can’t be, they don’t fly over at night.” He answered back, looking out the window for the source.
“Maybe it’s a rocke…. HOLY sh*t! Look out!”
Instinctively, the pilot jerked the controlling stick right, forcing it just inches away from the cone shaped missile. The helicopter stalled in mid air for a minute before stabilizing. For a second they were alive and flabbergasted.
“What in Apollo’s name was that?! Was that a f**king missile?!”
“I don’t know, I don’t know! I’m going to call in at home base and see they picked up that son of a b***h on radar.”
Delos attempted to steady his shaking hand as he nervously reached for the communications panel to contact home base. Unknown to the crew of two, a second missile was swirling unavoidable towards the back end of the helicopter. An explosion of shrapnel and fire gushed from the behind the cockpit, throwing the co-pilot forward and out the front window to his descending death. Delos was helplessly left strapped to his seat as intense heat went up the back of his neck and sharp glass shredded through his flight suite. The helicopter spiraled downward into a whirling mass of flames and twisted metal, before crashing into a residential building. A spectacular orange-reddish plume of fire rose into the air and finally dimmed into a climactic string of smaller explosions. Delos could feel a stream of warm blood pour out from his left side. He started to shake uncontrollably and an unnaturally cold feeling paralyzed his body. Delos was going into shock and he knew then that he would not survive to see tomorrow. In his mind he recited a brief prayer to the gods, hoping they would save him an honorable place in the fields of heaven. Two pilots died that night and four others living in the neighborhood perished as well. With the shattering of a silent night, came the shattering of peace…
I quite enjoyed this part of the story. Quite a beginning for some greater conflict, too - nice build-up there. Looking forward to seeing what happens next.
screams vova. 
Ive just had to edit this post cause Id spelled intensive tnsive 
But I attempted anyway, so feel free to criticize and critique. (But not too harshly 
)
intense!!
That's some awesome stuff. Keep up the great work!
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