Chapter 6 - Interception
Darkhorse arrived near Zadar, Croatia at their private dock and airport. It remained secluded and behind cover of the surrounding terrain. Having a full 48 hours before having to crash the party in Latina, Italy, the team members had some time to prepare for their next attack. Soap had already begun to grow slightly more comfortable around Darkhorse; more willing to participate in conversation, the large man was finding a seemingly suitable reputation amongst other Darkhorse members. Having Price around was always calming, despite the old man sending terrified shivers down the spines of others. Then Samson had a relaxing air to him that was welcoming and warming; Soap wasn't afraid to ask him any questions if he had any concerns or inquiries. The rest of Darkhorse was entertaining and enjoyable to be around, but they took their work seriously and knew when it was the right time and place for a well-placed joke.
After arriving in Zadar, with the foaming ocean crashing to the west, Darkhorse and Talon prepared the C-130 for takeoff. Everyone lent a hand in loading up the large, military grade plane with the necessary supplies and equipment while a few others prepared Shorty's Little Bird for transportation. It was tedious work, but with the help of several dozen people, the task was finished swiftly and Darkhorse was prepared for their transit towards the hills to the east, near Gracac. It was a smaller, village-like setting, located in a valley near the Alps. Gracac was covered in green landscape, and on occasion, an eerie mist.
Reggie and Mark sat cozily in the cockpit while a few Talon members assigned to man the large plane and the remaining Darkhorse team filed inside with the image of Shorty's Little Bird before their faces. Reggie looked towards Mark with his patented, smart-ass grin, immediately causing the angry looking Canadian to tense up.
"...Why are you smiling?" Mark asked with narrowed brown eyes.
Reggie leaned back in his seat as he adjusted his headset. "I'm a happy man, Marky-Mark."
"Don't call me that."
"Why not?"
"I don't like it."
Reggie pulled himself back and flipped a few switches as Mark's bored stare fell onto the distant treeline. "You know who you remind me of?" He pointed in Mark's direction.
Mark sighed. "Who?"
"Mutha-fucking Ben Stein. You know who that is?"
Mark blinked. "No."
"Of course you don't. Google it." Reggie spun in his seat then went back to work as he turned on his headset. He received the 'OK' from one of the Talon members on the runway. "Preparing for take-off in 60."
The plane's engines and turbines increased in volume as the interior rumbled. "Oh yes...that's right. Do you all feel that?"
Everyone in the back looked towards the cockpit as Reggie's voice sounded from the speakers. Trevor rolled his eyes as a smirk grew across Shawn's face.
"This should be entertaining." Trevor mumbled.
Shorty looked at him. "Because both your sadistic brother and Buzzkill have to spend the next 25 minutes in a small cockpit together?"
Trevor exhaled heavily as his eyelids fell shut. "Yep."
Shawn had to laugh. "Can you hear him giggling already?"
Everyone listened in trying to let their ears catch the sound of Reggie's soft chuckles. Trevor nodded. "There it is. The indicator that Buzzkill is moments away from murdering everyone on the plane."
Samson smiled from his position next to Price. Soap leaned forward to look over at Trevor. "Reggie's the instigator of the team?" His voice sounded deeply, laced in his Scottish dialect.
"Instigator is an understatement…" Trevor murmured, his eyes flashing off in the distance.
"We got lucky with Reggie on the ship. He was behaving oddly well," Ricochet commented, causing Tatiana to snicker.
"Probably because Samson had a talk with him." Shawn said with mild amusement. "Just wait though. When Reggie flies a plane, that's when his true colors come out."
"Fasten your seatbelts, because Reggie is piloting." Mark's monotone voice sounded.
"And Buzzkill is co-piloting with his bad attitude." Reggie commented as the team could pick up on an irritated mumble from Mark. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how amazing this plane is."
Suddenly, the C-130 began to inch forward and gain speed and momentum as it began to barrel its way down the runway. As the massive plane continued down the stretch, it reached its optimal takeoff standards. Lifting up from the earth with immense power and speed, everyone could feel their center of gravity fly to the sides of their bodies as blood rushed to their heads.
Once the plane had reached an altitude of nearly 20,000 feet, Reggie's voice buzzed from the radio. "Now if you look out to the right of your near nonexistent windows, you will see a herd of moose Buzzkill has seemed to misplace." There was a moment of silence as the plane hummed with a majestic force. "Sorry, Mark. I don't think anyone caught that.
"There's no moose in Croatia."
"'Misplaced' is the keyword." Reggie clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth before continuing. "Know what we need? Some Led Zeppelin." After a few brief moments, "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" began to play loudly over the radio. The loadmaster shook his head as he double-checked the inventory. "Fuck yeah."
"Why are you never serious?" Buzzkill inquired with irritation.
Everyone watched as Reggie turned in his seat. "Hate the game, not the player."
"That doesn't even make sense."
Reggie blinked at him before returning his attention to the sky before him. "Sure it does."
"No, it doesn't. What is this game I am hating?" Buzzkill's voice was beginning to rise.
"The game of life, my little, enraged, Canadian friend." Reggie replied before singing along with Led Zeppelin over the radio.
"He's lucky I like this song, otherwise I'd have to go up there to pop him in the back of his muppet head." Price said with his usually coarse voice as Soap flashed a quick smile from his spot next to his old captain.
After 10 minutes of Led Zeppelin, small talk from the back of the plane, and Reggie's oddly talented singing, his voice broke over the radio again. "Reaching the halfway point. Time to switch up the music." Suddenly, "Afternoon Delight" began to play. "There we go. Can you just feel the sexual tension coursing through your battle-hardened veins? Heh, hardened veins. No pun intended."
As the song continued to play, Reggie had to yet again put in his two-cents. "Oh, this is about having sexual intercourse in the middle of the day. Generally around afternoon. If anyone was curious."
"For the love of-" Trevor complained while pulling himself forward.
"Don't. He feeds off of everyone's irritation and uncomfortableness." Samson chimed in. A few people around him bore wide smiles.
Shawn had to chuckle. "He feeds off of himself. And then Buzzkill is up there-"
"In fairness, if it weren't for Reggie, we'd all leave the plane depressed." Ricochet stated with a faint smile.
Another 10 seemingly awkward minutes had passed, Mark announced their impending arrival to Gracac. The passengers prepared their belts and safety vests as the plane began to start its steady decline. The music had fallen silent, as the only noise that filled the compartment was the rumbling of the engine and turbines, and the occasional comment from Reggie.
After the standard landing procedure had taken place and the C-130 had come to a safe stop, Darkhorse removed themselves from the interior to begin the unloading process. Before Soap assisted with the task, his eyes scanned the area. It was a scenic view in an open clearing. In some ways, it reminded him of Scotland, with the highland-like terrain, the rolling green hills, and a light fog that crawled across the land during the early mornings. He felt oddly at peace as his light eyes scrolled across the tops of the barracks and the runway pavement. It was like Credenhill, only more welcoming and fresh. The scent of refreshing breeze blew between the barracks.
He felt a presence approach behind him; it was Price. "What do you think?"
Soap took a brief moment to look everything over before turning his full attention towards his old man. "You know, I'm content."
Price nodded, looking at ease. "Good."
The old man always kept things short, but sweet. Soap knew that short conversation had gone a long way, and he knew Price was glad to hear that his Scottish friend was finally finding some form of peace once again.
After their brief moment, they returned to help the others. Once all of the major tasks were finished, Samson grabbed Soap's attention.
"Hey, Soap. Come here real quick." He gestured for the bear-of-a-man.
Soap turned his head, found Samson standing in the open on the runway with Price, and began making his way in their direction. Once he stood before them, his eyes observed their faces before finding the metal roofings of the nearby barracks.
"I'm going to show you and Price around. It's a new place for both of you, and we all want you two to feel welcomed and at ease. So let's start with the barracks we will all be sleeping in." Samson rounded on his heels and began leading the two along the pavement and in the direction of the many buildings ranging in size. Once reaching the front of the building, he paused. "Pretty self-explanatory. Two people per room, like on the boat. If it gets crowded, the rooms can sleep three, but it'll be two for now. We'll worry about picking rooms out later. Next to this is the mess hall," Samson walked several yards before gesturing to his right before a building with a similar appearance. "Kitchen and cafeteria."
He turned again and returned to walking down the dirt path. "This smaller building, to the left here, is what houses the showers. Since we clearly have both male and female soldiers, we have scheduled times for the showers. There's a time chart in the sleep corridors, by the front door. Times set up for the mornings. We don't mind if people take showers in the evenings-I personally don't like going to bed dirty-but we generally follow those rules to conserve water." He exhaled a peaceful breath before returning to his tour guide duties. "Having fun yet?"
"Peachy time." Price commented flatly. The two of them spotted the edge of Samson's smirk.
Samson raised a finger and pointed. "This warehouse right here is the armory. It's obviously locked up right now. All of the barracks are, but this one has several special keys. Only two people have those keys, which will be you and I, Price. Oh, speaking of keys, everyone gets a key which can access all of the buildings, except the armory, of course." As they approached the armory to their right, Samson gestured. "Here it is. As you can see, it has a series of locks, is plated with 10 inch concrete and supports, and well...is an armory. We have plenty of supplies for this upcoming shipment interception, but after that, we should get another load. Which Badger will deal with. Hmm…" Samson rubbed his chin as he turned around with wondering eyes. "Forgot to point out the hangar. It's right behind the showers, near the runway. Tatiana, Shorty, and Reggie will be hanging out in their most of the time. Then you can see the radio tower a little bit further down the stretch, where James and Trent pretty much live 24/7."
His green eyes looked at the rooftops as he nodded, before continuing his journey down the pathway. "Near the end here is where you can run courses-indoors and outdoors-and also workout. It's obviously one of the bigger barracks. It'll make for a nice getaway when you need it. I'm sure the two of you are ready to start being active again. Here," Samson turned to face them as he held out two sets of keys. "Price, you grab the keys to your left." Soap and Price grabbed their keys as Samson bobbed his head with content and placed his hands in his pockets. "So, any questions?"
Price stared into Samson's face while Soap's eyes ran over the key he received. Neither of them could think of any questions concerning the base, so they simply shook their heads.
"I'll be on my way then. Have a look around, and enjoy yourselves. Lunch will be served in one hour, so make yourselves at home. Also, before it slips my mind, this is a permanent base. It stays here. When Echo catches wind of some useful intelligence, and we have to depart to a different location, Talon will set up temporary camps for us to stay in. We generally stay at those for only a few days, before returning back to here or wherever we're needed. I'm sure you two are well-acquainted to the idea of being nomadic." He paused to sigh. "These headquarters was set up by TTF, specifically designated for Darkhorse, but it can house more people than just our standard 16 because sometimes we end up with several Talon or Echo members."
Soap suddenly was hit with a realization. "What about Phantom? The team that just assassinated Roberto Vasquez. I haven't heard them mentioned a lot."
Price peered over at Soap from the corner of his vision as Samson sat in a brief silence to ponder over his answer.
"Well, Phantom...How do I describe Phantom…" Samson narrowed his eyes. "I'll just explain what it is they do. We don't see or hear from Phantom a lot. Picture ex-CIA agents and ex-Green Berets. Odd set of men, but there's only six of them. They operate with the utmost secrecy, and they do a damn good job at handling the more sensitive and highest priority material. Darkhorse deals with several...stealth missions from time-to-time, but not like Phantom. Echo actually doesn't keep a very close tab on them, in fear of getting compromised or sold-out somehow. Think of Black Operations material. That's what they are. I'm still constantly learning more about them."
"Sounds like they fit their name." Soap commented.
Samson replied with a nod. "Indeed they do," he moved his hands out from his pockets and let them fall to his sides. "Well, I'm going to return to the runway to assist with the Little Bird. You two are free to roam and do whatever. Tomorrow we'll gear-up and depart for Italy."
With that, Samson left their presence, leaving Soap and Price to explore the area together and get familiarized with the camp they'd be calling home.
When evening time came, the group ate dinner, then went about doing their own things. Some members worked out and ran courses, others had found a quiet retreat within the sleep corridors or hangar. As the night grew old and the early hours of the morning creeped up, the group arose from a surprisingly sleep filled night and awoke feeling recharged and ready for department.
Finalizing everything, the field-working crew of Darkhorse boarded Shorty's beloved Iroquois, with Ivan co-piloting, and prepared for lift off. Tobias gave them a thumbs up, with the rising sun in the background casting yellows hues onto the environment around them. Radio tower finished setting up signals, and with that, the team headed west towards the Adriatic Sea.
Price looked towards Samson who nodded in his direction. Samson's green eyes found the six soldiers that sat around him.
"So, here's our next stop. We're refueling in Sicily, and from there we're intercepting the shipment that departs from the Latina docks at 2000 hours. It'll be dark. Let's hope the Mediterranean doesn't have a storm in store for us. Remember what we discussed, Shawn, Trevor, Soap, and I are on the deck. We're clearing the ship then looking for the goods." Samson peered over at Price through a lowered brow. "Price, you and Ricochet will head towards the engine room to shut everything off. Gain access to the control room, and access their hard drives. Simple enough, right?"
Everyone agreed with a nod or still silence. The ship was going to be allegedly unarmed, but Darkhorse knew better. That's why they all were going in equipped with TAR-21's, with holographic sights and suppressors, in addition to having several flash bangs and M9s at their disposal. Each person served a single, but important, purpose and each task would be handled with promptness and competence. Ricochet was tall, but small in comparison to the men around her, but she could hold her own. She was an expert at recon and had a knack for computer infiltration. With Price assigned to her backside, she was far from worried.
As several hours passed, the chopper was ready for a refuel break. Everyone took a few minutes to stretch and get prepared for the impending conflict. The sun was out, but it was dying within the horizon. Trevor, Price, and Soap stood off to themselves to have a smoke break, while the others stood patiently with determined expressions. Suddenly, the Iroquois started back up as the propellers began to rotate and spin with immense velocity and force; the gusts whipped at their gear and hair.
"Come on, comrades. We got a drug lord's shipment to take out!" Ivan shouted over the growing roar of the chopper blades. Everyone jogged for the Iroquois as Soap and Price flicked their cigars off to the side.
Once inside, everyone stared into each other's faces with a growing excitement. Shawn's knee bounced up and down while Soap's perfectionism kicked it; he's hands ran over his gear, verifying everything was exactly where he wanted it to be. Each member entered their own thoughts and said very little as the clock continued to tick. Price glanced at his wristwatch, concentration burning in his sky-blue eyes. Everyone knew they were getting closer as their hearts pounded behind their chests.
The sun was now gone, and the Mediterranean splashed under them as the helicopter passed from overhead.
"ETA, 10 minutes." Shorty's voice stated over the radio. She was a different person up in the air. Price ordered everyone to get their radios on and live. Safeties were clicked off, magazines were equipped, and masks with fog-resistant goggles were placed atop their heads. The anticipation was rising. Soap and Price were growing excited as the hairs on their arms rose. It had been far too long, and even longer for Soap, the young man was glad to be back on the playing field. "Three minutes."
Price's eyes were locked onto the ocean below them and the dark blue horizon off in the distance. Then the ship came into view. It was a smaller cargo ship lit up by a four spotlights which lit up the deck.
"Target in sight. Prepare for the signal." Ivan said into their ears.
With the boat now completely visible, everyone lowered their masks over their faces as Price and Samson stood to toss the ropes over the side. Before doing so, Samson peered over his shoulder.
"Remember, Echo said that there's a crew of only ten men on this ship. Be sure to keep your numbers in check." Samson's voice was muffled by the mask that now shielded his face and gave him an inhumane appearance. Then a green light lit up within the interior, causing everyone to stand. Samson and Price looked to each other and gave a nod. With that, they threw the two ropes over and leapt at them, sliding down and onto the wet bow of the boat. Samson and Price crept forward in unison allowing the rest of Darkhorse to join them. They landed with a loud but coordinated 'thump' and followed through by looking down their sights.
One of the crew had ran up the deck to see what the commotion was about but was met with a silent bullet to the head. His body fell over ungracefully as a trail of blood was left in his tracks from his now lifeless corpse sliding down the stairs.
"One." Price confirmed. His voice always sounded so rigid and powerful over the radio.
Soap couldn't resist flashing an invisible smile behind his mask. "You had to be the first, didn't you, old man?"
"Just making a point." Price replied. He gestured for Ricochet to join his side. "Ricochet, follow me to the cockpit on the opposite end."
"Copy that." She joined his side as Samson motioned for the remaining men to take his lead.
Shawn watched as Price and Ricochet disappeared down the stairs hugging the outer rim of the deck, making a point to step over the dead body. Ricochet double-tapped the crew member as she passed
"Take aim, Trevor." Samson ordered as they came up to a door. "Soap, watch the flanks."
Trevor stood adjacent to Samson as they slowly pulled open the door, allowing the barrel of his gun to ease in first. Samson followed in after with Shawn and Soap shortly behind; checking their tails before entering the hallway, Soap scanned their backsides quickly before returning his attention before him. Trevor led them down a set of narrow stairs, taking a man out before him that was unfortunate enough to round the corner at the wrong time.
"Two." Trevor stated flatly as he placed his back against the wall, before zipping around the corner with his gun raised; Samson making a point to double-tap the freshly fallen man. Trevor's eyes caught sight of man leaving his cabin and shot him dead. "Three."
"They must be switching shifts." Shawn commented over the radio.
"Perfect. Soap, take aim and watch our 3 o'clocks." Samson ordered, allowing for Soap's mass to slip past him with a surprising amount of agility for a man his size. Samson gestured for Shawn to follow after Soap and began to watch their flanks.
The four of them eased their way steadily down the hallway, checking each room they passed.
"Clear left." Trevor confirmed
"Clear right." Soap said promptly.
Then they all heard a man's voice sound from one of the cabins from down the hall. "Demario, vieni qui. Dove si va?" He then poked his head out and froze in fear. Blood splattered on the back of the door as a bullet pierced through his forehead.
"Four." Soap said with his deep voice.
"Che cazzo!" They heard a shout as a door to the right slammed.
Their heads perked up. "Hold." Trevor raised his left fist. "Checking the 9 o'clock." Soap followed through by placing his back against the wall that the now shut door shared. Trevor mimicked the motion by placing himself parallel to Soap.
"Clear the room to the left. We'll handle the other one later." Samson ordered. Trevor gave a nod before quickly spinning into the room and checking all corners with Shawn by his side who had quickly joined him.
"Clear." Shawn stated.
They suddenly heard Ricochet's voice sound in their ears. "Five."
Samson quickly brought himself to the other side of the closed door and met Soap's stare. He adjusted his gun and brought his hand to the knob, and slowly turned it. The door creaked open slightly but was met with a barrage of bullets and curses.
"Ti ammazzo! Ti ammazzo!" The man screamed from within his cabin.
Soap grabbed a flashbang from his side and pulled the pin. "Flashbanging." He tossed it into the small opening between the door and the frame as Samson followed through by slamming the door shut.
The man yelled profusely from his end as the screech of the flashbang emitted. More bullets were fired while they waited for the man's 9mm clip to run out. Once the remaining 12 shots were fired, Soap pushed his way in and blasted the crew man's jugular out. A stream of crimson rocketed out from the left side of his neck and hosed the ceiling. Quickly taking him out of his misery, Soap shot another bullet into his head. The man slumped and smashed his head onto the side of the bed as he fell over. Blood gurgled in his mouth.
"Six. Room clear." Soap stepped out of the room to follow Samson down the hall with Shawn and Trevor following close behind.
On the deck, where Price and Ricochet lurked across to make their way to the cockpit, a steady drizzle had stirred. Ricochet had managed to plant a bullet between a man's eyes that had been taking a stroll across the deck. Price guided them up a set of narrow stairs that led to the cockpit. Once they became visible from the inside of the enclosed control room, they could hear a man shouting from the confines of the cockpit.
With his sharp eyes, Price was able to spot the movement and fire a stream of bullets through the windows. Glass showered to the ground as the man attempted to run but was met with three bullets through the back.
Price spoke into the radio. "Seven."
Verifying the immediate vicinity was clear, Samson spoke into the radio. "Sleep quarters are clear. Price, Ricochet. What's your status? Over."
"We've made it to the cockpit. It's been cleared. Over." Price responded with his usual hoarse voice.
"Good. We're heading down to the hold. You two set off the engines then make your way to the bridge."
"Copy that." Price then peered over at Ricochet who quickly moved past him and towards the controls. She threw her TAR-21 over her shoulder and used her free hands to shut off the engine and release the anchor.
"Engines are offline." Ricochet confirmed over the radio before taking aim down her sights and following Price's step out the door and towards the upper level. The bridge would contain the computers and any other vital information on the shipment. They quickly climbed the stairs only to be met with a man aiming a 9mm down at them. Price's reflexes were abnormally fast as he shot the man dead and sending him flipping over the railing.
"Eight."
At the sound of Price's voice, Samson and his group quickened their pace towards the underbellies that housed the hold and the cargo it contained.
"Last set of crew must be with the inventory." Trevor said flatly from behind Soap.
Shawn emitted a small, amused snicker. "They're probably down there getting high as kites."
"Assuming we're actually on the right ship, and not on some civilian vessel." Samson stated lowly, causing a few people to get nervous.
"Let's hope not." Soap added in with contempt.
Price and Ricochet brought themselves onto the bridge and the highest point of the ship. He brought himself in through the already jarred door and motioned with his head for her to step in. His arm held the door in place as she glided past him. Pulling her mask back, she found herself before a set of computers.
"Watch my back while I install this software and extract the files." She ordered towards Price. He wasn't one used to being told what to do, but he respected her ability to take charge. Not missing a beat, she plugged in a USB and logged in where she quickly went to work.
Down in the under regions, the three brothers and Soap scoured the area and the levels as they descended. Distant voices echoed and reverberated off of the thick sheet metal.
"We're getting close." Shawn said as their ears picked up laughter and the increasing volume of the chatter. Just outside the threshold that came before the opening into the hold, Samson motioned for everyone to freeze.
"Soap, Shawn. Take aim."
With Samson's order now out in the open, the two of them brought their guns up high and snaked past the threshold. Their eyes scanned the area and the tops of boxes. Spotting distant shadows, they lowered themselves and made their way quietly down the stairs. Despite being a huge man, Soap had mastered the art of light feet, and Shawn naturally possessed the ability to move like a cat.
"They're off towards the back." Shawn said quietly.
"Aye. Wankers are making it easy for us." Soap replied.
Trevor and Samson moved themselves across the catwalk, staying aware of their visibility and surroundings.
"We got you two covered if you get compromised. But I doubt you'll have any problems." Trevor spoke on the radio from his position above them; the men's laughter that emitted from the back of the hold was hard to place, but they were closing in. The two of them slowed their pace as they grew near.
Soap suddenly threw his left fist into the air and up over his shoulder. "Hold. They're right around these boxes."
With that, Soap and Shawn placed their backs up against the wooden sides of the crates while Trevor and Samson began to make their way back for the stairs.
"Shawn, you're right. They're high as kites. Easy kills." Samson stated while he guided Trevor and himself towards a way down to the lower level.
Shawn and Soap looked at each other as Shawn's eyes watched for Soap's signal. Once Soap's hand signaled a three, they both spun around the boxes and took out the last targets, one of which's face slammed into a table covered with remnants of white dust.
"Nine."
"Ten."
Feeling satisfied with their kills, they lowered their guns and pulled back their mask revealing faces that glistened lightly from the build up of tiny sweat beads. They sent each other approving stares before hearing Trevor's voice sounding through the room.
"Holy shit! Shawn, come quick! Look at all of this raw pasta!" Trevor yelled with excitement. "They really do use decoy cargo!"
"Oh, no way!" Shawn spun on his heels and ran for Trevor's voice. Soap had to utter a small chuckle before following after him, but with a more comfortable pace.
Once spotting his two brothers peering into a wooden container they had pried open, Shawn ran towards the side of it to look in. But his eyes found no raw pasta, only the plastic packaging around thousands of grams of cocaine. He looked up to see a wide grin from Trevor and the amused smile on Samson's face which he tried to hide.
Shawn shoved Trevor's shoulder. "Fuck you, man."
Trevor emitted an entertained laugh. "Christ, you're gullible."
"I just wanted to believe…" Shawn replied as he shook his head. Soap entered the space he stood in, and even he had to flash a wide smile.
After a quick moment of prying open boxes, Price and Ricochet returned to the deck to meet up with the rest of the group. Samson had already radioed in for Shorty and Ivan's return, and the Talon members on standby converged in on the location to retrieve the ship.
Once all back together, Samson had to give an approving nod. Everything had gone smoothly. With the data Ricochet and Price had retrieved and the successful attempt at intercepting the Vasquez shipment of drugs and illegal arms, things were starting to look good.
Hey everyone! I've noticed I've been keeping a pretty consistent set of visitors for the story. I'm glad I have some people following a long, I just want everyone to love the story as much as I do. Thanks for bearing with me through the slower parts, but things are gradually coming together. Introductions can be a pain in the ass to type. So, if you're enjoying the story, I always love the feedback. If you're feeling it, leave me a positive comment! I'm open to criticism, but I would only hope people who actually LIKE the story are reading it still...anyways, thanks for reading!