MISSION: OPERATION 40
LOCATION: BAY OF PIGS, SANTA MARIA, CUBA
DATE: APRIL 17, 1961
EXTRACTION TEAM: CHIEF PETTY OFFICER JOSEPH BOWMAN, SERGEANT FRANK WOODS, CORPORAL JAKE MCPHERSON, CAPTAIN ALEX MASON

All that could be seen from the unmarked aircraft was the aerial view of the Caribbean Ocean, endless crystal-blue waves. Darkened jade-green eyes peered off towards it, the waves reflecting into the irises a bit. The notorious twenty-eight year old Captain was zoning everything out for the most part, trying to focus into the right frame of mind... the only frame of mind that he could have for the mission ahead of him. However, eheh, the silence hadn't lasted for very long.

"Soooo, do I get to know where we're goin', Cap'n?"

Alex sighed lightly, his vision flickering over to the boy, who awaited his answer eagerly. "Cuba." His deep, gruff voice muttered. "We'll be infiltrating the Bay of Pigs estate." He paused, a thought crossing his mind as a risen brow was soon to follow. "Weren't you informed of anything?"

"Heh, nope. I was just given the order to do whatever I was told by my CO for the mission, which is you, Cap'n." The boy seemed to respond rather casually; his voice was an alto-toned rasp, considerably high for a boy his age. Heh, if anything, he sounded like he hadn't quite hit puberty. A deep sigh escaped him, his honey brown eyes looking to the window as well. "Ah, Cuba; I was wondering why we're dressed like we're taking a vacation. Yanno, I've never been to Cuba before."

"Yeah? Well it's not that great. It's hotter than shit out there, wears you out quicker." Alex informed him rather bluntly. This kid just seemed to be too relaxed here; did he not realize the severity of this mission?

"Pssht, please." The boy lulled his head over to look across to him, giving him an incredulous look. "I doubt it could top Nam-weather, I'll deal." The young Corporal studied the Captain's expression, a hint of a smirk quirking onto his lips. "I may just be a Corporal, but I guarantee that I'll be no burden. I was assigned to your SOG team for a reason."He pointed out, smirk turning a bit cocky.

Heh, oy... looks like he's got a hotshot on his hands, ah? Needless to say, the Captain was amused and reassured at the same time. He'll see if his bite is as bad as his bark soon. A small grin of his own seeped up across his face, nodding curtly in response. "Don't lose that confidence, kid. You're gonna need it."

Out of anyone they could've given him, a character like Jake McPherson was thrown into his hands; definitely not expected. Hell, just a Corporal, period. In any other case, high-risk assassinations were saved for elite officers such as himself... but the boy was probably one of the only exceptions. The Captain had been informed on infinite accounts, personal acquaintances even, on how much of a combat prodigy this boy was. He specialized in stealth and melee techniques, and was a genius when it came to tactical strategy. But damn, that's the last he'd expect from a twenty-year-old boy. Not to mention he had to be the tiniest shrimp of a marine he's ever laid eyes on. He looked to be what, 5"3, 5"4 if that? He had no sign of facial hair whatsoever... and to be honest, he was, er... a bit on the feminine side, 'specially in the face. He'd be mistaken for a chick easily if he had to put on a dress for whatever reason, without a doubt.

However, despite these 'quirks', Alex did see a bit of himself in Jake; heh, he too was once that cocky little shit. But what he's been through over the past few years has changed him, hardened him... and he was curious, to see just how Jake would turn out in the long-run.

The wheels of the aircraft soon made contact with the Santa Maria Airport Runway, designed to blend in with the surrounding Tropas planes when it came to appearance; and it'd be up and out of there before it could even be checked for an ID number.

Alex's face hardened; bullshitting aside, time to get to work. "Alright, Corporal; make sure you stick close, be ready for anything." The door of the aircraft was soon unsealed and opened. "Let's move."

McPherson eyed the Captain in amusement, just allowing him to get the obvious advice to him out of his system; of course he fucking knew what to do, but he wasn't about to impose. For the fact that this was pretty much going to be his induction into the SOG, he'd certainly felt the nerves of excitement building up. For a few seconds, he'd come off as a giddy child on Christmas Day. By the time that the Captain had glanced over to him though, the boy had already been carrying a stoic, monotonous expression, ehehe. The both of them made their way through the crowded streets of Santa Maria, the significant height difference between the two being very comical.

It was hot, it was sticky, and the run-down little cantina that they'd walked into didn't have much of a difference, either. McPherson followed closely behind Captain Mason, and they made their way towards the three men that had been awaiting their arrival. One looked like your average Cuban, he could easily pass for a local. The other two, despite their casual wear, wore the hardened face that only true GI's could possess. One was dark-skinned and more clean cut, and the other looked like your typical hard-ass white boy with a beastly amount of facial hair.

"S'bout time ya get here, I'm a hundred-fuckin'-years old."The harsh, low-tenor rasp of the beastly one spoke. McPherson liked this guy already, snickering behind Alex, whom shot a shit-eating grin towards the man in response.

"It's been a while."They'd both exchanged that look of mutual bro-palhood. Then, that's when the beastly one took notice of the boy behind Alex, quirking a brow.

"Who's the midget?"

Alex smirked, stepping back and clapping a hand onto McPherson's shoulder. "This is Corporal Jake McPherson, he was assigned to this team by the Secretary of Defense himself." He then turned his face, looking down to the boy. "Jake, this is Sergeant Woods." He'd motioned to the beastly one first, then to the dark-skinned man next, "And Chief Petty Officer Bowman."

"Whoa, whoa, Corporal? Puh," Woods scoffed, shaking his head a bit in disappointment. "What the hell are they on up there? Sendin' kids out here to do our jobs, fuckin' ridiculous." WELL. Woods did seem cool to Jake, that was until he flat out mocked his abilities and belittled him. He then turned to face Jake, giving him a rather unimpressed look. "Tell me, pipsqueak; whose leg didja have to pull to land this gig?"Oh-ho... he was just pressing the right buttons to get under the Corporal's skin, it was so obvious in his face. He'd balled a fist, eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to defend himself, but Alex had intervened.

"Alright, that's enough-"

"Nah, it's fine, Cap'n." Jake had insisted in a casual tone to Alex; he can't have the Captain holding his hand for this mission now, can he? And at that, he'd look back to Woods, giving him a highly defiant smirk and stood straighter. "I earned my place here, Sergeant; just like the rest of you extraordinary GI's have. I just happen to be younger, and at a lower rank. Now I'd appreciate it if you didn't hold odds against me that aren't necessarily my fault. So trust me when I tell you this," His voice dripped with spite, "I won't disappoint."It's not the first time that a pompous asshole has doubted him.

Heh, well hot damn. That defense was probably the most civil, and point-sticking that the Corporal could've gotten, causing Alex and Joseph to show slight shock, pleasantly of course. Naturally though, Woods remained stone-faced. "It takes a helluva lot more than righteous words to earn my trust, boy."He'd told Jake matter-of-factly.

Even Alex didn't push it with Frank when he'd first met him, this kid had some balls. It was merely seconds later that the Cuban behind the bar counter made himself heard. "Time is a luxury that we do not have, gentleman; so if I could have your attention." And at that, he'd laid out the blueprints of the very estate that they had to infiltrate. He begun guiding his index finger over the building layout, "You'll have to enter through the Southeast Wing here, because it has the least amount of security. Make your way up to the Northwest Wing, this is where Castro's bedroom and briefing area resides. It is very important that you do make it to the airfield past the plantation, I'll have a plane waiting there for you."

Carlos and Mason already knew eachother. He trusted him; hell, without him, they'd have no shot at this without this kind of Intel. Everyone had gotten close enough to lay eyes on the blueprint, get a good feel for it. In the meantime, Jake didn't overlook the fact that the air ventilation system veined throughout a good portion of the place. He snickered deviously, his dark ruffled hair might as well have curled into devil horns. 'Ohh-ho-ho, perfect...' However, Carlos suddenly seemed alarmed, and stashed the blueprints away in time as a band of Tropas soldiers piled in. Go figure. In response, Woods suddenly stiffened, expression turning cold and looking like a predator ready to attack at any given second.

"SACA LOS PAPELES?"

"Be cool, Woods."The Captain warned...

"Pff-ff-ff..."

So much for being discreet, eheh... With Jake not being able to keep his amusement contained and all. He blew it by sputtering out quiet laughter. And sure enough, that brought the attention directly onto them.

"Tu donde estas? I SAID WHERE ARE YOU FROM?"

Mason remained cool as ice as the Tropas officer barked at them, but oh-ho, Woods shot Jake a glare that could kill. But did the boy notice? Hah! Nope. He was too busy attempting to suppress himself, nose bridge scrunched as he shook his head silently. 'Why was that so fuckin' funny? AHAH!'

Then... that's when it happened.

Woods pulled out his own shank knife, and pinned the officer that approached them to the bar counter by stabbing straight through his forearm. A split second later, he'd slammed the nearby bottle of tequila into his face and knocked him unconscious. Within seconds, his well-concealed pistol was drawn, and the other officers were shot, dropping like flies.

'Whoa...'

That had to be the coolest thing that Jake had ever seen. The guy maybe a prick, but the boy could admire epic when he saw it. However, gaping time was up; time to put the game face on. The cantina doors busted open, and all three GI's took on any oncoming reinforcements with their Commando rifles that were stashed away prior. In the meantime, Jake was thinking of what was to come, and knew they had to get outta there, and fast.

Jake reached back, whipping out the ballistic throwing knife that had been cleverly attached underneath the fabric of his shirt against his shoulderblade. With a forceful flick of precision, the blade impacted deep into the neck of one of the many unsuspecting military grunts that were blindly attacking them. Once fallen, the boy immediately crouched beside the wounded soldier, twisting the blade harshly. He made sure that the Tropas commie was good and dead, before ripping the knife out and stealing the soldier's Skorpion sub-machine gun right after. He'd then taken cover behind debris during the erupted chaos, noting that the rest of the team was too busy to notice the oncoming car that was full of even more military personnel.

He'd snuck up behind the vehicle once it'd skidded carelessly to a stop, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. 'Three...two...one...' Jake sprung up, and before the group of Tropas grunts could even blink again, a string of bullets had been sent into their skulls or kidneys. The driver, still in the vehicle, was panicking, naturally. However, he'd been too slow to retaliate, since soon there was blood beginning to stream smoothly from the center of his throat. He was struggling for his life as the steel wire dug deeper and deeper into his jugular. Oh fuck yeah, that's how you do a Columbian Necktie, bitch. Jake had used his small size to his advantage, silent-ninja-maneuvering as well to climb into the backseat and attack from behind. After shoving the driver's lifeless corpse from behind the wheel, he'd hopped with nimble movement over the center console and into the passenger's seat. He honked the horn vigorously to get the squad's attention, sticking his head out after.

"LET'S GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!"

At that, all three wasted no time on bookin' their asses to the car, Woods and Bowman piling in the backseat as Mason took the wheel. The Captain wasn't worried about the other two, but he'd flashed a quick glance of concern to Jake, because of his size. "Hold on tight."

Jake scoffed, making a face. "Pssht, what do I look like, a -FUCKSHIT!"He yelped as Mason took off like a bat out of hell on crack, maneuvering like a person late for work in New York.

"Heh, a fuckshit? Never heard of it, but it'll suit ya, Corporal." Commented Woods, a hint of amusement on his lips; but definitely in the eyes. The Sergeant has a sense of humor? What is this?

"Ehh..." Whined Jake in response, waving it off with a sheepish smirk, eyes closed as he made another face, Bowman chuckling at the matter. But fuck man, Mason's driving! A sudden terrain glitch caused the car to lose elevation and drop much like a plane would when losing altitude, causing Jake's light body to fly up and THUNK his head on the roof. "Aye!" He rubbed his head vigorously, the whole squad erupting with laughter in the meantime. "Yeeeah yeah, laugh it up,"Commented Jake dryly with a slight grin; it was getting easier by the minute to treat these three like buds rather than superiors.

Somehow, they'd all managed to keep their stomachs intact from Mason's driving, but they'd gotten to their destination that was just outside of the Southeastern Wing, just as Carlos had instructed.

It'd been a quick process to infiltrate, the guards and armed vehicles being pitiful when it came to their defense skills. This was Castro's trusted military? Che, what a piece of cake this mission is going to be then. And sure enough, they'd zip-lined over to the Southeast entrance. They were merely seconds away from even more hell that was about to ensue, all of them taking the time to reload their weapons. During this time, Jake spoke up. "Hey Cap'n... With your permission, I'd like to enter from the back wall. I have an idea."He'd kept eye-contact with him, confidence in his voice. And honestly, Mason didn't feel the need to think too hard on it. Nobody had to tell the Corporal to get them an escape vehicle, and he was obviously fine on his own.

"Just make sure that you're back with us before we run for the airfield." And at that, he'd looked to Woods and Bowman with an affirmative nod. "Let's go."All three sprinted off, and with an excited smirk, Jake took off as well, but around the corner to the back. It hadn't taken much effort to locate an air vent, dis-assemble the grid and climb in. Now?

...'It's party time.'

Even though Jake was armed with a Commando like everyone else, there was reasoning for jacking that Skorpion earlier; multiple attachments... a.k.a., a noise suppressor. Within minutes, military personnel begun to decrease significantly. Even though Mason, Woods, and Bowman were causing quite the commotion, they only had to deal with the grunts in their line of sight. The luxury of not having to worry about reinforcements from behind... thanks to a certain Corporal. Because come on, nobody would expect their death to be a two-bullet interval blasting into their skull from above. Eventually, however... Jake ran out of Skorpion clips.

'Awwh, shitcrackers... What to do, what to do...'

He sat there for a moment, scratching his head in thought. He couldn't use his Commando just yet, he wasn't quite at the spot he needed to be at for his position to be revealed. And as if on cue, Cuban voices echoed through the vent a couple of feet away. Now he wasn't the best at comprehending Spanish, but he wasn't completely hopeless either. He picked up on the words 'Americans', 'three', 'send', and 'more'.

He'd slowly removed the air-grid from the vent opening, which had dimensions to give it a twelve-foot perimeter. All who was left in that room was the Tropas CO that gave the two soldiers the command to continue forth. Man... this guy really just took his safety for granted, didn't he? With lithe, agile movement, Jake had landed smoothly on the top of the desk directly below the vent in a crouch. Within the next two seconds, the CO was knocked out cold from Jake using the blunt of his stolen Skorpion to ram into his skull, and hard. Jake simply tossed the now-useless sub-machine gun onto the unconscious officer's stomach, looking down to him with a risen eyebrow and a scoff to follow. "Tch..." Were all foreigners this ignorant? NVA's acted the same goddamn way. He shook his head in disapproval, before slinking over to the room's entrance, slowly peering out and looking right to left down the empty hallway. Alright, good; he's got some time.

He'd knelt down near the doorway, immediately pulling out a string of Semtex grenades, beginning to lace them together by interlacing the fuses together, all to be let off when one would be triggered. This little trick was discovered from on-the-moment improvising a while back, heh, hell yeah. As Jake was in the middle of doing so, however, he'd heard an array of Spanish going off on the walkie-talkie still attached to the unconscious officer's hip. Blinking, he stared at it for a moment... before his grin grew mischievous. Heh, oh no...

He sauntered over, swiping the walkie talkie out and observing it. Huh... it had its' small differences from American walkies, but all and all easy to control. And just for the sole purpose of fucking with any Tropas commies listening, his voice filled the officer's channel. "Yo tengo un gato en mis pantalones! Repito! Yo tengo un gato en mis pantalones!" He feigned urgency, switching the channel off and snickering to himself afterwards. Now the Corporal didn't know much Spanish, but it should've been expected for him to know the stupidest of phrases; hence 'I have a cat in my pants'. Laughing a bit to himself as he heard confused, thrown off tones from the other end of the walkie channel, he'd set the device back onto the unconscious officer. Go figure that Jake would find time to fuck around in a situation like this.

However, this was when he'd heard the familiar heavy patter of troops coming down said hallway. Bullshitting aside, he'd grabbed the string of connected Semtex grenades carefully, waiting for the opportune moment. Then came the second countdown of this mission for him. 'Three... Two... One...' He pulled the fuse for the leading Semtex, and the various beeping noises begun rapidly going off as he tossed the string of grenades at the oncoming reinforcement Tropas squad, and flat out dove away from the door entrance. At the same time, the various explosions going off one by one caused a giant hole in the wall of that room, even getting up into the low roof a bit and causing it to cave in a little.

Jake waited a couple seconds, slowly removing his arms from sheltering his head, and looked over and around, blinking. Well sweet! Looks like those lethals worked! He stood up, brushing himself off and pulled out his Commando assault rifle, that he'd finally be able to use. "Ha-hah... like a boss." Jake murmured to himself with a triumphant smirk, loading clips into his Commando as he did so.

"Well shit my gritz, Corporal..."Mused Chief Petty Officer Bowman with a wide smirk as he, Woods and Mason approached. Heh, Jake had no idea that he'd given the other three GI's front row seats for the whole Semtex massacre right there.

"Whatever you've been doin' up 'till now has helped us out big time; we were expecting to be outnumbered, but the enemy pushes against us have been pretty subtle up to this point, eh Woods?" Alex had spoken matter-of-factly, before looking over his shoulder in inquiry to the Sergeant, who grunted affirmatively and nodded.

"Yeah. Turns out your tiny ass is makin' a difference in this mission after all, kid." Woods had spoken gruffly, a hint of a grin on his dirtied face with a small nod to follow.

Oh-ho, talk about basking in this moment. "I never would've guessed that you doubted me to begin with, Sergeant."Jake had spoken teasingly with a shit-eating grin.

Woods chuckled, "Heh, yeeeah yeah, don't push your luck."

What knocked the four of them out of their small intermission were strings of bullets that were poorly aimed, instead hitting the walls and debris around them, or even penetrating holes through the glass windows and causing them to shatter.

Of course, it'd been instinct for all four GI's to either duck, or drop/tuck n' roll for cover. Mason, Woods and Bowman were easily capable of going all gung-ho and standing their ground, plucking out Tropas grunts one by one. In the meantime, McPherson used their distraction on the other three more physically-intimidating men to his advantage, taking out grunts that were on the outer corners and weren't paying too much attention.

"We're close, keep moving!"Alex's voice had boomed with authority and stormed on forward, the air of determination radiating off of him getting into the others as well.

All three GI's had continued down the hallway, and headed towards a small patio corner. Alex had busted out onto the area, shooting one of the guards in front of a large set of double-doors square in the face, as Woods was quick to send a neck-shot to the other guard by sticking the barrel of his Commando through a shattered window-pane.

Woods and Bowman had been quick to put their backs to the walls on both sides of the double-doors. "We're ready when you are, Mason." Woods spoke, tone affirmative. "Let's do this."

Alex nodded silently, pulling out his ASP handgun that appeared tiny in the Captain's large hands and cocking it, taking it off of safety. He looked to McPherson with an inquisitive brow, who shot him an encouraging smirk as he cocked his Commando with one hand, the other raising for a thumbs up. "I'll provide low cover right behind ya, Cap'n."

The Captain grinned small, before his face read utter seriousness. He zoned everything out, only being able to focus on one thing, and one thing only; killing Fidel Castro. And in one smooth motion, he'd used a hard leverage kick to bust through the double-doors. He'd come face to face with Castro, whom had his whore in an arm-lock in front of him as a human shield, the other hand pointing a pistol ready to fire directly at Mason. As Castro had just begun to bellow profanities at him in Spanish, the Captain had already shot a clean shot to him, right between the eyes.

Naturally, the woman begun screaming and wailing in horror. Instead of doing the right thing for herself, she'd gone and reached for the pistol from Castro's corpse; the moment it was aimed at Mason though, Woods was quick to shoot the broad between the eyes himself. "Che, I just don't get women sometimes. She was all willing to be used as a human shield." He scoffed and shook his head in disappointment. In the meantime though, McPherson was already at the door that linked to the briefing room, and the rest of the Northwest Wing... just endless Tropas commies engaging with hostile force. At least Bowman was quick to join the little guy on the other side of the door, both of them using the wall for cover and taking accurate shots when they could.

"Hey, uhhh... if you're both done scratchin' your asses, we could use some help over here. Just sayin'." Spoke McPherson in a sarcastic, yet demanding tone. Even the clown of the squad knew when it was time to buckle down. It was a mutual agreement between Mason and Woods, that yes, they did have a hell of a lot more commies to deal with. Woods would've probably said something along those same lines if positions were switched.

It'd taken a while of pushing, but after a while, yes, the airfield eventually did come into view. And to make a long story short... it pretty much just broke out into flat out chaos from there. Why? That's when other marine troops were airdropped in for the notorious Bay of Pigs raid to begin. In a way, it could be seen as an advantage, because every single soldier out on that field had some form of distraction. Chief Petty Officer Bowman had been the one to snipe out a man that was aboard an assault jeep loaded with a machine gun in the back. "GET TO THE JEEP AT 3 O' CLOCK, NOW!"He'd bellowed.

The rest of the squad had booked it over to the vehicle, Alex being the one to hop up into the bed of the jeep and man the machine-gun. Bowman took the wheel, and Woods hopped into the passenger's seat, along with McPherson practically flying into the backseat and slamming the door shut; Bowman put the pedal to the metal, and they zoomed off. "It's insane out here, my god!" McPherson shouted, window rolled down as he fired off at commies in nearby vehicles so they couldn't have the upper-hand by attacking Mason from the sides.

Woods was doing the same on the opposite side, letting out a hearty, exhilarated laugh. "It's not too much for ya, is it kid? Don't shit out bricks now!"

"You kidding? That'd be helpful, 'cause then I'd have more ammo!" McPherson responded with a wide, highly amused smirk with the visual that came along with that. That'd even gotten Woods and Bowman to glance at eachother and cackle a bit, making slightly disgusted looks at the same time.

"Stop makin' us laugh, damnit!"

"Apologies, Sergeant!"

The jeep plowed through the field of stocks, and soon approached a momentarily vacant winger, that had an American pilot waving them over from the cockpit of a started up plane. The jeep skidded to a complete stop directly beside, the other GI's within the plane immediately going over to the gap of space to pull all four men up. "Get your asses in the plane, we're takin' off!"

Bowman had successfully gotten into the aircraft, but then the wheels started moving, and the plane begun to crawl its' way out onto the runway. Woods had sprinted swiftly enough and hopped on, and now all that was left to board was McPherson and Mason. Ehehe... McPherson was pretty much jogging along with the plane, but er... due to his height, this was causing him to attempt to leap and grab a hold of the entrance's edge, and failing... consecutively. The boy let out a growl of frustration, shouting, "Help me out, I can't reach!"

"Goddamnit, McPherson! Such a fucking pain in my ass!" Bellowed Woods in irritance, a strong arm reaching out and clasping McPherson's wrist, yanking the boy up into the plane in one swift, easy motion. Shit, this kid was as light as a feather! The weight he benched most likely weighed twice the amount that he did, if not more. He remained at the edge of the plane, hand extended to Alex, who was still running alongside the plane as well. "C'mon, already!"

The Captain was just about to reach for the Sergeant's hand.. when an idea struck him, from a large-artillery machine-gun that was planted into the earth itself was caught in the corner of his eye. "I'm goin' to make sure you guys get outta here!"He shouted with a confident smirk, before slowing his sprint to switch directions.

"WHAT? ALEX, YOU CRAZY FUCK! GET BACK HERE AND BOARD THIS GODDAMN PLANE! MASON!"

"Don't worry about me!" Alex shouted back, leaving Frank's rants something that he'll probably chuckle about later. He wasn't sure if anyone else had noticed, but the plane taking off wasn't exactly a discreet motion anymore; assault-jeeps and troops of Tropas commies were spilling out of every corner; and someone had to make sure that plane took off.

The plane did leave the ground, yes... the sight of Alex alone dissipating into a small dot with the higher the plane escalated.

Meanwhile aboard the plane...

"Wait! Mason! He's still down there! We can't just leave him there, what are we going to do?" Jake ranted, being more than not okay with leaving the Captain behind.

"He stayed behind to keep our plane from being shot down, we owe him one."Bowman told the Corporal simply, looking over to him.

"...And we're all okay with the fact that chances are slim of him getting out of there alive on his own? ...Did I miss something here?"

"You obviously haven't known the Captain for very long." Woods mused with a raspy chuckle, looking over to Jake with a grin of reassurance. "If anyone can be a one-man show, it's Mason. And if I know him the way I do, he'll have crept his way out of Cuban territory in no time."

[[===AUTHOR'S NOTE!===]]

Heya, folks! How did you like this first chapter?

This is basically my own creative rendition of the Call of Duty: Black Ops Campaign Mode storyline, with my own little twists and turns. ;D

Are you interested in reading more? If I get a few reviews/some feedback so I know that SOMEBODY out there wants to keep up with this, then I shall continue to keep posting chapters.

Do not hesitate to drop me a line!