Authors Note
Well. Seeing that I'm here I should really say sorry. I abandoned this story for such a long time leaving the final chapter incomplete, always saying
"Ah tomorrow, yes I'll finish it then."
How wrong I was, I would truly like to apologize for that. But hold no fear this story is still alive, currently being rewritten. Looking back, not my best work.
It's quite amazing what had happen between a few months. So please bear with me.
I AM planning to finish it, but I hate how it is. The gears in my head are working so this story will hopefully be the first of one's I plan to rewrite along with the rest, except In Desperate Times. These chapters all are going to be rewritten, and completed. Chapter 1 is currently being worked on.
So for those who still want to keep reading this, please leave a review.
But a special treat, part of Chapter 1 rewritten is here, below. My style has changed and if you like to see me rewrite the whole things with small changed please tell, if not tell me.
Chapter 1
One 'Small' Problem_Rewritten Excerpt
The sun had made its way through the small openings of the windows curtains, landing themselves onto the small coffee table in-front of a male. A small cup sat quietly as a small amount of steam made its way up from the light brown substance. The blonde from before rose his head from the book he held in his hands. The title of the book written in a strange form of a language. The blonde then reached out for the cup of tea, sipping it's rich liquid he loved so much. He wore a green military uniform, which consists of a green jacket, a brown Sam Browne belt, green pants tucked into his boots, off-white shirt, a tie that's a shade of green that's slightly darker than the rest of his uniform, and brown boots that almost come up to his knees. This was no other than England, the powerful country that represented The United Kingdom. The brit glanced down to his wrist checking the time, Eight Forty-Two.
There was going to be another World Meeting, luckily it was going to be placed here in his beautiful city of London. No need of getting onto a plane and wasting a few hour to go to a meeting at which nothing was going to get done. A small sigh escaped his lips, the meeting was at Ten, so he still had roughly an hour before he had to leave. Letting his mind wondered for a few seconds, as the loud slam of the front door being open pulled him out of it. Thinking it was none other but the foolish America, he pulled his teacup back to his lips. Oh how wrong he was.