All the character of rectifier are back and this time are headed to New York to get justice for Radhika’s best friend’s daughter who is murdered by four teenage kids their fathers have high power to disappear a crime. But rectifier won’t rest until justice is served.


This is the sequel of rectify:Manmarziyan, you can find the first book on Wattpad..

when i was in Lincoln High School in Brooklyn New York City. I was the Son of New York and led the Lincoln High School to win the New York State Championship 2 years in a row (2001 and 2002)
In those two years, I got Mr. Basketball of New York 2 times, and the best high school student in the United States and i also got other honors.
Even the Owner of the New York Knicks joke about that once i participated in the draft the knicks will pick me. 
*****
follow me on IG @dunknd0nut

NARRATIVE of WARD COURIER
September, 2007
SOUTH WALES, NY

I should introduce myself. I'm Trevor Ward Courier, the voice of this book. I usually go by Ward. So you can visualize me, I'm a white guy about about six feet high and one-seventy heavy. I look like someone of my ancestry, a European mutt: Irish, Scottish, German, and English, so far as we know. I have brown hair, blue-green eyes, a sharp nose, and kind of a long skull. I am an English teacher and department chairman at an independent boarding school in rural Western New York.
I experienced a lot of what you are going to read in these pages, and when you see the word "I" or "me" in here and it's not part of a quote, the observations presented should be mine. I have a pretty good handle on the things I didn't see from interviewing some of the other players. Those I can imaginatively recreate for you, and they will be in the third person voice and often the present tense. I write those scenes as if they're happening in a film.
This is going to be two rambling, discursive books, put into one for the purposes of e-publishing. They are not going to have the tightness of the literary masterpieces I admire, ones with that sense of no word out of place and none that should be added or axed. You may even find a few typos. I keep finding them, along with awkwardnesses and blunders. But now that I've decided to write it, I have to get this story out.
This book is going to hop around in a couple of different plot tracks that took place over the span of five years. Things were happening at different times across the Americas, and from the way things came together in the end, I figured the best way to present them was in their rough chronology. A certain portion of this book, too, is comprised of my published writings exactly as they appeared, so you can see what there was in them that drew the official interest that brought me into the action. I will do my best at keeping them clear so you can keep it all straight.
I have a master's degree in British literature and know my way pretty well around European lit in general. I have a side-interest, though, that is my real niche of specialization in life: the paranormal. I'm the authority in my home region, upstate New York, though largely due my handful of books and the lack of any serious competition. I'm a reasonable scholar and interpreter of paranormal subjects and situations in general.
I have the local reputation of being a psychic detective, which I do nothing to encourage. Possibly because it is the handiest thing for people to get their heads around, it is impossible to talk people out of thinking it. I don't like false titles, but the impression certainly helps my research. I get called in on cases I would never have heard about otherwise. Lest you start getting images of the caped Dr. Strange or Dion Fortune's fictional Dr. Taverner, though, I should clarify that I am more of a historian and folklorist. I am no exorcist, either. Wouldn't touch the stuff without a Hell of a lot more training, as in, a career's worth.
There are plenty of ghost hunters in the upstate, some of them reasonably prominent. If you want an expert at running around in the dark with surveillance gadgets, any one of them would be better than I am. The upstate likewise has loads of psychics, at least people who say they are, plus UFO-geeks, exorcists, gurus, mystics, cult-leaders, spiritual healers, and representatives of just about every alternative -ism you can think of. Western New York, after all, was the home of so many alternative religious cults and communities that early in its days of white settlement it was nicknamed things like "the Burned-over District" and "the Spirit Way." It was as if the first observers thought there could have been something special about the territory itself. This is also classic Seneca country, and the insights of one of their prominent young elders is a major factor in the events these pages unfold.
I, however, am none of the above. I'm a profiler. I operate toward the paranormal with an almost Cartesian - "I think, therefore I am" - system of affirming by doubting. I'm like Peter Sellers' Inspector Clouseau: "I believe everything and I believe nothing." I start by presuming that everything I hear is just a report - human testimony. It can't all be true; I can't presume it's all false. I look for parallels in time, place, and tradition, and work back from there toward a consensus of likelihood. While certainty may not await us in any of these subject areas, there is a surprising amount you can learn through these means.
In matters paranormal, I record what people say and interpret what they have written. I try to make my conjecture based on broad patterns, not the testimony of single persons and certainly not on my own feelings or intuitions. I do not discount supernatural explanations for things; I merely save them for the last possibility standing. And I do not project meaning onto incoherent situations, either.
Under the pen name Mason Winfield, I've written a couple books about the supernatural-paranormal history of my home region, Western New York, as well as other books on the War of 1812 and the traditions of the upstate Native American League of Six Nations, the Iroquois/Hodenosaunee. I also have a website and publish many articles in magazines and papers in a typical year. Some people are convinced there really is a Mason Winfield. Hah. Does that sound like a real name? Mason Winfield? Who would name their kid Mason Winfield?
There are other people in upstate New York who write about paranormal subjects. My real niche is my broad base and my historic, objective take on the people, places, and events in the supernatural-paranormal past and present of my home region. If somebody wanted a crash course in the upstate paranormal, I would be the natural person to come to. If somebody wanted help interpreting any regional development that seemed related to any paranormal subject, I would typically get that first call.
One morning in September 2007 I checked my mailbox in the faculty lounge and spotted one of the notorious pink notes used to record messages for the faculty that come in through phone calls. This one was a summons to meet with Prescott Burns, our venerable headmaster, right after lunch in his office. "Prez," we called him, or "PB." There were variants among the faculty, like "Peanut Butter," and, "the Sandwich," and "PB-and-J," which of course evolved into just "and-J," sounding often like "NJ." "Talkin' to the Sandwich," one of us might say about heading to a meeting with him, or even, "Going to lunch," or "Brown-bagging it." My colleagues are inveterate nicknamers. Even people like me who don't pick up nicknames anywhere else get them here. If you're sensitive, don't work here.
Because of my initials - TWC, which I use to sign the countless passes and memos we exchange every day - I'm often referred to as "Cable Guy," after Time Warner Cable. Sometimes it's shortened to "T-Dub," or just "Cable." Sometimes it's "Larry," after the comedian, "Larry the Cable Guy." When I was a kid I went by my first name a lot, and people who have known me for a long time often call me "Trev." My mother has always called me "Trevor."
Sometimes a call to the boss' office is a trouble-sign, but I couldn't think of anything this one could be about. I hadn't skipped a study hall or gym duty, had a major fight with a student or colleague, spoken indiscreetly to a trustee, or shown up massively late for anything. At least not recently. That I could recall. I went in as a blank slate.
It was a bright afternoon about 1:45. I found PB in the little lobby of his spacious office conducting a meeting with the math chairman and the bookstore manager. He had his non-confidential meetings here.
I always liked the way PB dressed, like the classic New England headmaster. That day he had on dark grey pants, a powder blue Oxford shirt, and a brown herringbone tweed that went really well together. I could have done without the bow-tie - I've never once worn one - but that was an occasional given with PB. His full head of impeccably clipped white hair was a living landmark on the campus. It stood out against a crowd of campus walkers like a torch in the darkness. He got up when he saw me and met me at the door.
"Ward, I've got a call in from Ted Bennett. He's the head of the local FBI. He's asked me about you and I told him you're no terrorist. He'd like to speak to you in his office in the city. Can you get in there to see him sometime soon?"
"Well, sure," I said. "Any idea what it's about?"
"I'm pretty sure it's got something to do with one of your books," he said. "Sounds like a research question and he'd like to discuss it in person."
"I'll call him," I said.
"If you can do anything to help Ted out, I hope you'll give it due consideration," said Prescott Burns. "His dad was on the Pennsylvania with me when we were both just a little younger than you. And give him my best. I haven't seen him since he was in Sunday School."




Author:
Author, teacher, storyteller, and supernatural historian Mason Winfield studied English and Classics at Denison University, earned a master’s degree in British literature at Boston College, and studied poetry and fiction at SUNY Buffalo with professor emeritus and MacArthur grant recipient Irving Feldman. He has written or edited fourteen books, including the regional sensation “Shadows of the Western Door” (1997) and “Iroquois Supernatural,” co-authored with Michael Bastine, on the traditions of the Six Longhouse Nations (Inner Traditions International/Bear & Company, 2011). Several of his surveys of upstate folklore and paranormal tradition may be found at the website of Western New York Wares: www.buffalobooks.com. He may be reached at www.masonwinfield.com.

An anatomically perfect human jaw fashioned of diamond-hard quartz crystal is uncovered at an Ohio burial mound and sold on the underground antiquities market. Shortly after, three pothunters are found dead.

A mysterious new drug suspected of South American origin surfaces in Buffalo, NY. Its unprecedented psycho-tropic effects include the momentary activation of ESP. 

Blind, speechless, emaciated street people start appearing in many parts of the world. An urban legend-cycle forms around them, and the name of a murderous old cult, “the Whistlers” attaches to them.

An archaeological team at a Mayan site reports finding a bizarre artifact and vanishes. 

An upstate schoolteacher’s book of New York legends and folklore foreshadows these developments and more. 

   These are the threads – plus his affair with a maddening woman – that draw narrator Ward Courier into the international adventure of occultism, terror, Native American tradition and onrushing prophecy that is Mason Winfield’s anticipated new novel THE WHISTLERS. By the time the picture of THE WHISTLERS becomes clear, we are ready to believe in a sinister conspiracy that could predate Atlantis and even hail from another world.



*Note: This book contains strong language and some dark scenes.* 

... 

"Dan." 

"Dan..." 

"Dan!" 

Dan opened his heavy eyelids, exposing a set of hazel eyes. 

'What's all the ruckus about?' Dan thought. 

He raised his head from the counter while adjusting his glasses and stared sleepily at the perpetrator. 

He was too sleepy to even glare. 

"What the hell Philip?" he said groggily. 

The said person just smirked, happy at his accomplishment of having successfully woken him up. 

"You have a customer, " Philip winked at Dan. 

"And she's pretty cute too, " he gestured to the door, "at three o'clock." 

The almost stiff movement of Philip's neck and his eyes oddly reminded Dan of a chicken with New Castle Disease. 

Now that he thought about it, he actually saw a chicken in his dream. 

'But why on earth would he have dreamt about a chicken?' 

He sighed, adjusting his glasses again. He turned his head lazily to the entrance of the bookstore. 

He saw a short, slightly curvy twenty-something-year-old with glasses walk into the store. She was wearing mittens and a very fluffy head warmer—the kind with a ball at the top. Dan's eyes widened and he felt his cheeks instantly warm up. 

He averted his eyes as she walked up to him by the reception. 

￼ 

 He cleared his throat and straightened. 

"Welcome to Elaine's Bookshop, what book would you like to read today?" he said with a smile. 

"Good afternoon. You have a lovely shop here." She returned the smile, which revealed a tiny dimple. 

"I want to buy two books actually, " she said softly. 

 Dan nodded. 

"Alrighty. Can you tell me their names?" 

"Bittersweet' and 'In The Last Days'. You know, the books by the twin best sellers?" 

Dan looked up, eyes wide. 

He'd never actually read the books, and according to several top Newspaper companies—including the New York Times—referred to their books as beyond remarkable. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"Do you have them?" she asked hopefully. 

He noticed her overly excited face. 

He smiled. 

"Yeah, give me one minute." 

Two minutes later, Dan was back with both books. He wrapped it and handed it over to her. 

She paid for the books and smiled kindly at him. 

His heart raced for some unknown reason. 

"Thank you," she said and she walked out the Bookshop. 

He heard someone cough beside him. 

"Ahem!" Dan blinked and turned to face Philip. 

"I think you got a little drool on your chin, " Philip jested and Dan rolled his eyes. 

"She's cute, " Philip continued. 

Dan sighed, closing his eyes. Philip scowled a little. 

"You've been single for too long, " Philip said. 

"Does it even matter who I like? You always steal them from me anyway." 

"Awn, cheer up Dan. I'm sure there's someone out there for you, probably some unlucky, unfortunate chick." 

Dan opened his eyes, they lowered. 

"Maybe, " he stated quietly. 

"Uh, what was that?" Philip gave him a scrutinizing look. 

Dan pretended to yawn. 

"Never mind, " Dan replied. 

Philip eyed him suspiciously then went back to his chirpy self. 

"Alright, suit yourself." Philip went back to counting the money in the cash register. 

Dan checked his wristwatch, it was closing time. 

"Philip, I'll be leaving, it's 10." 

Philip checked his wristwatch. 

"Wow, so soon." 

Dan removed his cap and shook his hair, freeing it. A few strands got into his eyes. 

He tried smoothening it, but it seemed his hair had other plans. 

Giving up, he left his unyielding hair, grabbed his cellphone on the counter and moved over to Philip's. 

"Aren't you ready?" Dan asked. 

"No, I still have one or two things to wrap up around here." 

"You go, I'll lock up, " Philip chirped. 

Dan nodded, grateful. 

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night." Philip nodded already back to counting the money. 

Dan grabbed his coat from the rack and walked out of the shop. 

He was met with the full force of the winter air. Streetlights filled the streets. 

He sniffed and put his hands into his pocket. 

He needed a smoke. 

Dan made his way to a dark alley, near his apartment. 

As usual, he found druggies and stoners there. Just the place he needed to be. 

He needed to warm himself up. 

"Sup D, what's good?" A very lean guy with a lot of piercings walked up to him. 

They called him Slim. Slim had AIDs, but that had never stopped him from smoking himself to stupor. 

"I'm K, " Dan replied giving him a handshake and a shoulder hug. 

"Whatcha need? You know anything you need I got, " Slim grinned at him. 

His teeth were in poor condition due to excessive smoking, but he didn't care. 

"I just need a little blunt real quick." Dan could feel his tremors. 

"Hey Jimmy, get my guy here a stick, " Slim ordered. 

"Yes, boss!" Jimmy, a boy no older than seventeen replied back. He seemed new. 

Less than twenty minutes later, Dan had smoked four blunts. He was on his fifth. 

He took a short drag and sighed—it was one of pure satisfaction. 

His tremors were long gone. 

By the time Dan left the place, it was already past midnight. He dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment. 

Locking the door, he removed all his clothing, save his underwear and threw them in the laundry. 

He brushed his teeth and went back to the bedroom. 

He removed his glasses and placed it by his bedside drawer. He fell face-first into his bed and moments later, his soft snores echoed in the small apartment. 

√√√√ 

The next day, Dan woke up feeling discouraged as usual. 

He sighed deeply. 

He sat up and grabbed the hand mirror by his bedside drawer and examined his face...it was blurry. 

He rolled his eyes. 'His glasses.' 

He reached for his glasses and put them on. 

His chestnut hair and boring hazel eyes came into view. He spread his teeth wide—they were pearly white. 

No one would have guessed he was a smoke addict. 

His teeth were one of the decent things about his entire features and he really worked hard to keep it that way. 

He was also 6'3—another bonus. 

His alarm went off. He turned it off and checked the time...it was 6:30 am. He sighed. 

He hated how he always woke up before the alarm. 

He laid back down and closed his eyes. 

The thought of going to shower filled him with such dread...because that would mean getting out of the comfort of his bed. 

Apparently, he couldn't always have his way. So, he dragged himself out of bed, brushed his teeth and took a quick shower—all in the span of ten minutes. 

He grabbed his phone, poured his cat—Tom—some leftover Chinese take out from two nights before and went out through the door. 

His apartment was on the fourth floor. The elevator was busted so he had to walk all the way down. 

Where he worked—Elaine's Bookshop—was not that far from his apartment, which was something he was really grateful for since he didn't have a car. So he walked there every morning. 

That morning was particularly cold, so he'd worn his coat. 

Fifteen minutes later, he got to work. He hanged his coat and looked around for Philip. 

Unsurprisingly, Philip was already at work. 

Dan secretly wondered if Philip slept in the store. He dismissed the thought with a smile. 

"Morning, Philip." 

Philip squinted at him. 

"Well, morning to you." 

"Is Elaine here yet?" Dan asked as he signed in. 

He then sat behind his counter at the reception. He didn't wear a cap. 

"Hey, has that girl been in here again?" Dan asked Philip. 

"What girl?" Philip asked clueless. 

"You know, the one from yesterday?" Dan averted his eyes. 

A smirk was plastered on Philip's face. 

"You mean the cute one that bought the two best sellers, " he stated. 

"Yeah, " Dan said quietly, placing his pen beside his register, then he looked up at Philip. 

"Actually, she literally just left 30 seconds before you walked in, " Philip said. 

Dan's eyes widened. 

"Really?" 

"Yes. She came for a few more christian books, and then she asked for you." 

"R-Really?" 

"She said, 'Where's the cute, quiet guy I saw yesterday?'" 

Dan's cheeks flamed. 

"And?" he asked eagerly. 

"Aaaaand...nothing." Philip deadpanned. 

"What do you mean nothing?" 

"I'm kidding, no one's come by the shop." 

He closed his eyes. 

'Calm down, Dan." 

"Whatever, " he muttered under his breath and went back to his counter. 

The bookshop was pretty cosy, he'd always liked the warm lighting and the systematic arrangement of the books by genre. 

There were even a used book section and a cafe where people just came to read and enjoy themselves. 

"Sorry, dude, " Philip said smirking, not sorry at all. 

"You're an a*s, " he said, propping his elbows on the counter and leaning his chin on his hands. 

'Breaking news, a 25m flood has ravaged the entirety of the city of California leaving thousands dead. One as terrible as this has never been see-' 

Dan switched off the TV. 

"Hey, I was watching that!" 

"Not anymore." Dan hated the news, or rather, he hated bad news, which was all they've been watching and hearing for the past year. 

He'd lost his entire family to the plagues. It was a time he'd never forget. 

He was all that was left of his family. 

"Dude, you can't keep killing the TV every time the news comes on, " Philip groaned. 

"Actually, I can. I'm in charge of the remote remember?" 

"Suit yourself, thank God for the internet." Philip picked out his phone and began scrolling through. 

Dan shrugged and went to put on his gloves and apron. 

He began his usual indexing and arrangement of the new books just delivered to the shop. 

He arranged them by genre and best sellers. 

After about two hours, he was done. 

He coughed. 

He was asthmatic and the dust kinda got to him. He removed the nose mask. 

He sighed and began climbing down from the ladder from the impossibly tall bookshelf. 

"Um, hello?" Dan heard someone say from under him. 

He'd turned too fast and lost his grip on the ladder, falling off. 

 His back hit the cedar floor, hard, his glasses coming off in the process. 

He groaned in pain. 

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry." He heard the voice, which sounded too high pitched for his ears. 

"A-Are you okay?" He turned his head and saw someone kneeling by his side. 

Everything was blurry. The only thing he could make out were two small green blobs he guessed were eyes. 

He tried lifting himself up. He groaned out as pain exploded at the back of his head. 

He tried reaching for his glasses. 

"Here." The small voice said. 

He cleaned them and wore them. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—" 

"What do you want?" he unintentionally snapped. 

Her eyes widened in surprise. He stood and placed a hand on his left temple—it was bleeding. He did the same for the back of his head and thankfully, there was no blood. 

He sighed, lifting the fallen ladder with his other hand. 

He was thankful the ladder wasn't broken. 

"U-um, I'm kind of lost and I need directions, " she said. 

Dan searched the aisles for Philip but he was nowhere to be found. 

'Where's the douche when you need him?' 

"Hello?" the girl said softly. 

He turned to her, annoyed. 

"What do you want?" he repeated thoroughly annoyed. 

"I-I need directions." Now that he had his glasses on, he observed her. 

She had long, auburn hair with striking forest green eyes. 

She was dressed for the cold weather and had on a head warmer. 

He couldn't help but notice she was pale. Too pale. 

Dan huffed. 

"Do I look like a map to you?" he snapped at her. 

The girl's eyes widened and then they lowered. 

"It's alright, I'll go. I'm sorry about your head, " she said, before turning and walking to the entrance. 

She was stopped by Philip. 

"Hello." 

Philip walked towards her. 

"How may I help you?" 

"What seems to be the problem?" Philip asked. 

"It's nothing, I just came in to ask for directions, " she said. 

"It's fine, your colleague already helped me." 

"Colleague?" Philip said puzzled at first and then he turned to Dan who then joined them. 

"Thanks for the help." She averted her eyes and with that, she left the shop. 

Philip faced Dan and glared at him. 

"That's a potential customer you just scared off." 

Philip's brows furrowed. 

"What did you do?" 

Dan's eyes widened. 

"What did I do? 'What did she do?' is what you should be asking." Dan huffed. 

"She just walked out with tears in her eyes. What did you say to her?" Philip pressed. 

Dan gritted his teeth in annoyance, frustrated. 

"Will you just shut the fuck up? She was the one who came in here asking for directions like a two-year-old." 

"Who the hell doesn't know how to use their phones to ask for directions?!" 

"Dude, chill, " Philip said calmly. 

"I am chill, you're just annoying me right now." 

Dan walked right past him and grabbed his coat. 

"Where the hell are you going?!" Philip yelled after him. 

"Anywhere but here." 

He needed a smoke, quick. 

...

Life is unpredictable. 

From being a bookshop clerk and an average individual, Dan is pulled into a world of demons and dark creatures.

Given a destiny he hadn't chosen, he is sinking fast into the pool of misery.

He's all alone.

Will he succumb to the devil and the demon within or find a way to change his fate?

Find out in 'The Sin'.

Daniel is now 16 years old.
He's writing his fourth novel.
It's the only novel he's felt good about.
He started it around 3 months ago, but he had the idea around a year ago.
Daniel spent a lot of time planning it out and revising the original draft.
Although, Daniel still had his doubts on how effective he was at getting his message across.
𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩?
Daniel constantly wanted to get better.
To a certain extent, he would long for the feeling of hopelessness when he wrote something horrible, this would make it a good challenge for him. He loved to mold the junk in to something beautiful, or at the very least something palatable.
It was therapeutic to make something bad he wrote in to to something that he found worthy. It would fill him with glee whenever he improved his writing with his own two hands.
Daniel felt like he could do anything as long as he set out to do it.
He could make countless worlds, as big as the galaxy or as small as a coffin.
He enjoyed making something that no one else could, to explore an idea that no one else had thought of. And he could do this infinitely, there was no shortage of ideas.
********************************************
After about, a month of grueling revisions, Daniel sent in his novel to about 3 publishers.
One of them was the biggest publisher in the country, PolarBear Publishing. The other was McAllister Publishing. The third was a smaller publisher that's a part of PolarBear called Warriors Publishing.
The title of Daniel's novel was called "The Quiet Man." 
The novel starts out with a man on a park bench who is sitting quietly on a bench in front of his apartment. 
the man begin to list everything that is dear to him
Items in his apartment
material things
He talks about their placement in his apartment as he has memorized the position of everything in it.
Not everything is tidy or straight,
He does this is to throw people off, he doesn't want others to know that he likes things orderly
Many people are illustrated or talked about by this man
he talks about the lives of other people who walk by his apartment
he knows about their daily lives
he talk about his co-workers, he talks about what they hate, about what they love
they think that he is a normal man, he keeps to himself.
but he is a murderer
their is a man in his apartment, dead, 
he wants to keep his daily life
he likes his daily life
ever since he was little, he didn't seem to have much emotion, he didnt cry when his mother died, his father dislikes him, sometimes his father would beat him when he was drunk.
his father apoligized when he got older, he forgave him, he was never mad at him
his father lived a fullfiling end of his life, he died very content
he thought about his boss, his boss reminded him of his father, but his boss was not as good of a man.
his boss was a serial rapist, he knew the routes that his boss would take, he would **** women all over new york. 
His boss was very smart, he would make sure to days off to "take care of his mother" who had dementia. And even then he would only go on few occasion to satisfy his lust. One time he even did it during work hours, saying he had business plans.
**************************************************************************************************
There were many clever aspects of Daniel's book, the most interesting was the relationships he had with those that were close to him. 
Often times, the main character would leave hints for people regarding the rapist and his identity, but no one ever catches on. 
One time, he even told his drinking buddy, that it was his boss. 
His friend just laughs it off.
************************************************************************************************
Warrior Publishing
"..."
Carl Jacobs was reading a manuscript sent in by a newbie author. His name was Daniel Hernandez.
"A Quiet Man"
This novel had been in the backburner for 2 weeks. 
The whole office had been backed up with new manuscripts ever since one of their novels blew up all over social media for its crass and less than favorable view of women in the US. 
This was also partly due to the author being a young woman, only 23 years old.
They had been quite excited about its release, but it even blew 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 their expectations. The book, "Caterwauling," even made it on the best sellers list. They were expecting it to get in to the top 10.
But, that's not what took Carl Jacobs attention at the moment. What had Carl glued to his seat was the book he was holding in his hands as it was so unbelievable that he had trouble understanding if it was a newbie author who wrote this.
Every part of it was filled with information, that made you want to understand more about the story. Every single aspect of this novel made you interested. 
Even the details about mundane things, like a comb on top of a desk, was interesting to him. 
He figured that whoever wrote this must have been writing for quite some time.
Immediately, after reading it, he decided to contact the author, rushing to be the first to contact him before his manuscript was snatched up.

Inspired by The Great Storyteller. I wanted to create my own version of this type of genre. There really aren't enough of things to read. A story about a young, up-and-coming author named Daniel. 

Daniel is a 16 year old boy, who likes to write and wants to publish his first book. Although, he didn't grow up with a whole lot of friends, the only thing that worries him is making his writing better.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good morning, welcome to Sotheby's New York. Today is the first day of the New York autumn auction. This is the Sotheby's classic furniture auction. I hope everyone can gain something and return with a rewarding experience!
I am the auctioneer Brad, presiding over this auction. The rules are announced below. This auction is a British auction. I will announce the starting price and minimum increase of the lot. The bidders start from the starting price and bid from low to high! ..."
The auctioneer began to announce the auction rules aloud, and many bidders listened intently.
Only Ye Tian was not listening, flipping through the auction catalog in his hand, looking at the pictures and information of each lot and didn't care about the auction rules.
The antiques he sent for auction have reserve prices and if the bids fail to reach the reserve prices, they will automatically cancel the auction, so he don't worry.
Moreover, the reserve price set by him is not low, basically equivalent to the market price, which is just a little lower. No one should take advantage of it. There is no way!
More importantly, he has no interest in participating in the bidding at all. He just came to feel the atmosphere. After all, it was the first auction and he should come and see how it was.
As he looked through the catalogue of the lot, a whisper was heard from time to time next to him.
Mr. Li, who is engaged in the Internet, is translating auction rules for Ma Weidu and another domestic collector, neither of whom understand English.
About ten minutes later, Brad introduced the auction rules and many precautions and the auction officially started!
The eyes of all the bidders on the scene suddenly lit up, all staring at Brad on the stage and the big projection screen next to the auction stage.
This is a special auction of antique furniture. Many of the furniture are relatively large in size and not light in weight. Some are complete sets of furniture and cannot be displayed on site at all, so they can only be displayed by projection.
Before participating in this auction, the vast majority of bidders have visited the warehouses and conducted careful identification studies. Most of the buyers have a clear mind and can be targeted!
But for Ye Tian, ​​this way of showing made him lose an opportunity.
If those antique furniture are on the scene, maybe he can discover some hidden secrets, or find furniture that is seriously underestimated and maybe pick up a few omissions.
But these antique furniture are not on the scene and his perspective ability is useless. He can only observe and wait for the auction results!
"Ladies and gentlemen, the auction is now starting. The first lot is a side table, from Paris, France. It was made at the end of the 19th century. It is a typical neoclassical style furniture! It has a unique shape and superb carving!"
Brad started to introduce the first lot, speaking quickly and loudly, so everyone present could hear it clearly.
The bidders who are interested in this side table are already excited and eager to try, waiting for the introduction and the bidding officially begins.
"OK! Ladies and gentlemen, the starting price of this side table is 20,000 US dollars, and the price increase shall not be less than 1,000 US dollars. Now the bidding starts, 20,000 US dollars, 20,000 US dollars, does anyone respond?"
Brad quoted the starting price, shouting like a cascade!
At the same time as the offer, his head also began to quickly turn left and right, patrolling the many bidders in the audience, his eyes were very sharp, to see if anyone raised a placard to ask for the price.
There are also two people on both sides of the auction table staring at the many bidders on the spot, ready to remind Brad at any time so as not to miss the bidders!
There were two to three hundred people sitting in the entire auction hall and nearly two hundred bidding plates were issued. An auctioneer simply couldn't keep an eye on it. He must have a helper!
In addition to the numerous bidders who went to the site in person, there were also many telephone and online bidders who were bidding remotely through the phone and the Internet.
There are two rows of computers and telephones on the sides of the auction hall against the wall.
More than a dozen Sotheby's staff are standing there, waiting for instructions from the phone or computer, ready to raise placards to respond to prices.
When Brad reported the price of the first lot, the scene immediately became restless and the other end of the phone and computer also began to restlessly.
The auction hall began to heat up and people's emotions became more and more excited!
This is the charm of on-site auctions. When fierce bidding unfolds and under the control of excitement, the decisions people make are not necessarily the result of rational thinking!
And this is exactly what auction houses and sellers want to see! The more intense the competition, the better!
Someone raised the bid number plate! Followed by Brad's voice.
"OK! Someone responds for $20,000. It's No. 115, a beautiful lady, thank you! Now $21,000, $21,000, which lady or gentleman should respond?"
Brad's shout was uninterrupted, full of breath and passion! The guns fire like a blast!
On the telephone entrusted side, a Sotheby's staff member raised the bidding number plate.
"Someone bid for $21,000. It's a phone bid, No. 260! Now it's $22,000, $22,000. Does anyone ask for it? This is a classic antique furniture from Paris. It's rare. Don't miss it!"
Brad yelled quickly and kept bewitching and inciting the offer, trying to attract more competitors to participate in the bidding.
Soon, someone raised the bidding number plate, the atmosphere on the spot became more and more heated and the competition gradually began to intensify!
After nearly ten rounds of bidding, the auction of this side table has come to the final stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, is there anyone else asking for the price? The first time for $40,000, the second time, the third time, sold! The deal! $38,000! Mr. 156, congratulations!"
Brad quickly completed the countdown. Seeing that there was no more bid, he immediately waved his right hand and knocked the auction mallet down and at the same time stretched out his left hand and gestured to the location of No. 156.
"boom!"
The final word, the first antique furniture was sold.
Then, the big screen showed a second piece of antique furniture.
This is an antique desk made in New York on a mahogany wood floor. It was made in the early twentieth century. It has been passed down by several celebrities. It has an orderly heritage and is worth a little money!
The auction started soon, with a starting price of $42,000!
Ye Tian is not interested in these antique furniture that can't be seen.
He just learned about the situation, his attention quickly shifted, chatting with Betty in a low voice, waiting for his two antique furniture to appear.
The first few lots are all European and American antique furniture and Ma Weidu and the others are not very interested, they are talking in a low voice.
While chatting, these few turned their attention to Ye Tian again.
"Ye Tian, ​​I heard that you swept the entire Corridor 127. It's true? If it's true, then it's too exciting! You should rob these foreign devils severely and you should be revenge!
I watched the preview of the Sotheby's Chinese Porcelain Special Auction. There are a few porcelains that are very good. As far as I know, the Emperor Kangxi's imitation Ru kiln came out of your hands, right?
In the future, if you find antiques similar to top-quality porcelain, or traditional Chinese paintings, calligraphy, etc., don't give it to Sotheby's, just pass it to us, we will definitely give you the most reasonable price!
In this way, we can get the beloved boutique antiques and bring them back to our country and your kid can also get the benefits, so as not to let Sotheby's make money from both of us and even think about it!"
Mr. Ma interjected a few words, feeling quite a bit unhappy.
He was right. If an antique art passed through Sotheby's auction house, buyers and sellers would have to be stripped of the skin, which would add up to 30% or more of the auction price!
If he can save this money and put it in his own pocket, then it would be better!
"Mr. Ma, that Kangxi's Ru kiln is indeed mine. In addition, I have a few antique porcelains that will also appear in the Chinese porcelain auction, but they are not as refined as the Kangxi's Ru kiln!
Your suggestion is very good. We really don't need to let these foreign devils take the skin twice. When you come back, you leave a contact information. If I receive good Chinese antiques, I must contact you as soon as possible.
As for the Corridor 127, it is indeed true. In the face of our ancestors' strategy passed down for thousands of years, americans brain is not enough to see and it was indeed looted by me!"
Ye Tian smiled and said in a low voice, his pride was beyond words.
"Hahaha, good job!"
Mr. Ma and the others laughed softly and they were very happy.
At the same time, the eyes of a few of them suddenly lit up, shining straight, with excitement!
Despite his youth, this guy is a legendary professional treasure hunter. He has found a lot of heavyweight antique works of art, many of which are the best!
If they have a relationship with this guy, won't there be a steady stream of fine antiques in the future?
Moreover, this guy vision is extremely sharp and they has never seen it before. This can avoid the worry of buying fakes and save a lot of worry!
One more thing, the antique artworks bought from this guy are returned from Europe and the United States. Not only can they avoid a lot of trouble, they can also stand on the side of justice!
Where can they find such beautiful things? How can they miss it if them ran into it!
Thinking of this, Ma Weidu and the others immediately took out their mobile phones and exchanged contact information with Ye Tian.
Invisible, a channel for the return of Chinese antiques and cultural relics was formed so easily. Both sides benefited and everyone was happy!
Only Sotheby's auction house has lost a lot of business and lost a lot of profits. There is no doubt that them are the most unlucky ones!
But who can control them? Love it!
After putting away their phones, several people continued to chat in a low voice, not paying attention to the auction on the spot.
The two auctions shown one after another are still Western antique furniture and everyone is not interested.
"Ye Tian, ​​talk about your experience in Corridor 127, we heared related rumors in China. It's a bit magical! Now that we encountered you here, you will tell us about it!"
Mr. Liu whispered, eyes full of excitement and curiosity.
"Okay, it's okay to talk about it! But the location is not right now, I will just say a few words, after this auction is over, let's talk more!"
Ye Tian smiled and nodded in agreement, and then began to narrate what happened in the Corridor 127.
Ten minutes later, six or seven pieces of antique furniture have been auctioned on the spot and there is no first-class auction. The auction went smoothly!
Another picture of antique furniture was projected on the big screen, and a full-scale and multi-angle display began!
At the same time, auctioneer Brad's voice followed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next lot will be more special. This is an American rustic-style desk and a Duke chair, cherry wood made, from Chattanooga, Tennessee, made in 1925,..."
Hearing this, Ye Tian stopped talking and looked up at the big projection screen.
Finally it's the turn of his antique furniture! Don't know what price can be sold?

Obs: This is a novel original in chinese, I only translated to english.

Ye Tian, who was in desperate situation, found that the world in his eyes had changed, becoming radiant and dazzling!

Antiques, famous paintings, gold, diamonds, and jewellery are all available at your fingertips!

The pirate treasures of Cocos Island, the Nazi gold in the depths of the ocean, the Mayan civilization in the jungle, the secrets of King Solomon, the disappearing Atlantis,….

They are no longer mysterious, but completely opened the door, just waiting for Ye Tian to explore and discover.

What are you waiting for?

set off!

To people of the Netherlands, New York was a bitter city.
New York was originally named New Amsterdam. Dutch people had great business skills that they even bought Manhattan Island at the price of twenty-four dollars from an Indian chief. However, the city was taken away by England and was renamed as New York. It was natural that the Netherlands would feel bitter about the city.
Including Metro New York, it had become a city with more than 20,000,000 living in, but in the mid-seventeenth century, there were only about a thousand people. Interestingly, the population of a thousand people communicated in eighteen different languages. The people of different races, ethnicities, and religions had one thing in common. It was the lucrative land.
 
"So, New Yorkers are wild."
 
Jongil, who tended to understand everything through his own standards, made a strange conclusion.
 
"Where'd you get that idea?"
"It's what everyone knows about. Since I'm going to be busy today, let's separate from here."

Jongil was shut up after Youngho smacked him on his back.
 
 
"We're getting laptops, broadcasting equipment, security cameras, and searchlights. What else is on the list?"
"Okay, okay!"
 
There were a lot of items to be purchased.
Since prices were cheaper than many European cities, Youngho planned to buy various items in bulk. The laptops would be provided to Arirang Farm's school and each immigrant family and the broadcasting equipment and security systems were to be installed at the farm as well.
 
"We should make the sellers pack all of them nicely since they're going to be shipped through air transport."
 
Because the weight limitation of a ship going through the Volga-Don Canal and Volga-Baltic Waterway was 5,000-ton, Youngho had to send all of the things through air transport. Also, because the Volga-Baltic Waterway was frozen, The Arirang could not travel through it.
 
"Don't worry about that. Let's meet back in the afternoon tomorrow."
 
Since he was in America, Youngho wanted to meet Edward who was now staying in Albany, New York. Having to spend the day alone, Jongil was excited.
Youngho worried about what kind of mischief Jongil would put himself into but it seemed that the worst thing he could do was to watch New York women's behinds.
 
Edward, who was badly injured in Colombia, was now recovering in Albany where his family was. When he was fully recovered, he would be working at the CIA's headquarters office. Since he was a regular agent who had been through an elite training course, he was more suitable as an office agent rather than rough a field agent. When he goes to the headquarters, he would probably take a leadership position of a department since he gained experience from being a field agent.
As he received Youngho, Edward teared up.
He would have become a handful of earth by now if it was not for Youngho who came to save him right before his death. A surge of emotion welled up inside him. He was only breathing because of Youngho's meddlesomeness which ignored the business territory of his own department.
 
"Lee. I'm alive all because of you. I haven't been able to say thank you."
"Please, it's between you and me. When a comrade is in danger, it's a right thing to do to help him."
"Come to think of it, I picked the right person."
 
Edward's words were what Youngho wanted to say. It was because of him that Youngho was able to have a stepping stone for his own businesses and successes now.
 
"Are you alright? Do you have any difficulties or inconvenience? If you're in need of financial help…"
"I bought a farm in a rural area with the money you gave me at the time. I can take care of myself even after my retirement."
 
He was talking about the one million dollars that Youngho sent him from Colombia. It could buy an apartment room in Gangnam in Seoul, Korea but it could do a lot in rural towns in the states.
 
"I heard about your achievements these days. You might get promoted from the European chapter soon."
 
As saying that, Edward was proud as if he was talking about his own achievements. It was because the agent he recruited was achieving more than any other experienced agents. Youngho's team in the Caucasus region was a matchless group. There was no other agent like Youngho who had established their position well in the mainstream society of a country.
 
"Well, I only wish to stay in the field. It's not like I took the elite course like you."
 
It was true that Youngho did not want to leave the field taking care of his businesses and people.
 
"I wanted to make time to come previously and finally I could make it. I'm glad to see you recovering well."
"Thank you. I should get better fast since you're worried about me. When I go to the headquarters, I'll have access to exclusive information. If you need anything, I'll help you as much as possible. This is what I can do for you for saving my life."
 
One of the reasons for Youngho's visit today was the information. Since Youngho also treated information, sometimes he had an extreme thirst for information since it was difficult to find out about some key clues although he had many things leading up to conclusions. However, because Youngho was only a field agent without any connections to the headquarters, there was no way for him to get help. Only a few keywords were needed to read the flow but he did have someone who would do that for him but, thankfully, Edward was willing to be that person for Youngho.
 

***
 

"How much is the laptop?"
"It's seven hundred dollars each. Why do you keep asking?"
"Are you sure it's not missing any important parts?"
"You think I'm a fool? I checked its performance. I played the most popular game now and it worked fine!"
 
It was Jongil's way to check a laptop's performance but it was fair enough.
 
"Why is everything so cheap here?"
 
It was natural since the United States did not charge special consumption tax and special purpose tax. Although the Kazakhstan government would charge some tariff, they usually did not charge a lot for the products that were not produced in the country.
Youngho was glad that he could buy the items that he needed immediately at cheap prices. Once the ice started to melt, he would be importing a lot of cutting-edge products and making the town of Arirang Farm the best IT city. His tremendous amount of gold bars would make that possible.
 
 
"It's nice to meet you. My name is Lee Youngho."
 
Youngho greeted a man who was gulping down a kind of vodka. Still sitting down, the man only swung his hand as if he did not care.
 
"Are you Choi Sunkil by any chance?"
 
Youngho now spoke in Korean. The man who did not even look at Youngho was stunned to hear sudden Korean from his mouth. He did not think that there would be a Korean who knew his name in Amsterdam.
 
"How do you know about me?"
"Captain Gilbert told me about you."
 
Choi Sunkil, who was nervous, soon felt relieved to hear the captain's name, and his shoulders relaxed like a deflated balloon.
 
"How do you know that guy?"
"I'm the new shipowner of the cargo ship. Let me introduce myself again. I'm a major shareholder of Arirang Shipping, Lee Youngho."
 
Arirang Shipping was the name for Zeynep Corporation's shipping industry company title that he came up with when he bought the new huge freighter. To look more professional, Youngho intentionally used the word, major shareholder.
 
"A major shareholder?"
"I haven't found a professional executive yet and the position is vacant at the moment."
"…"
"Captain Gilbert told a lot about you. He said you're a master of ships. If you haven't chosen a different company yet, I'd like to recruit you."
 
Youngho's way was a classic way to recruit people but it was an effective method.
 
 
Leaning on the railing of his large ship, Youngho was feeding seagulls some bread crumbs. It was then when Choi Sunkil approached him.
 
"Mr. Lee. I've looked up Batumi in the Black Sea coast and it looks like a famous vacationland. I bet the port fee would be expensive there. It'd be more economical if you moor the ship in an outer port and deliver cargo on small boats to the wharf."
"Mr. Choi, I'll leave the decision to you. I'm just a major shareholder and you're the one in charge of Arirang Shipping."
"It's been several days but I still feel like I'm dreaming."
 
From a successful shipowner, he had to step down almost empty-handed and then suddenly, he was hired as a professional executive and returned to his ship. He was naturally still dazed by all things happening to him. Youngho appeared when he was mentally devastated to the point of death, so in a sense, Youngho saved him.
His family members were also split due to the bond that he could not pay back, but because of Youngho's payment, everyone was on their way to Batumi, Georgia to be reunited.
Youngho thought that a person who experienced failures was whom he needed dearly since he never experienced failure up until now. Choi Sunkil would be a great person whom Youngho could learn through his past unfortunate experience.
 
Zeynep 1 had traveled a seaway. It was only after passing through the Gibraltar Strait, where the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean meet, and through the Aegean Sea, the Marla Sea, and the Bosporus Strait, the freighter had finally arrived in the Black Sea.
The course was not boring but there were too many ships along the route that Youngho thought a sea traffic police was needed. It was allegedly captains' least favorite route since many collision accidents occurred between ships. One good thing about the route was that shippers would pay more delivery fees when ships passed this route.
Choi Sunkil's plan was to mobilize smaller ships along the Black Sea and the Mediterranean coast and the bigger ships around the Atlantic. He expressed his will to concentrate tramp lining business in preparation for the time when the grain would be produced from Arirang Farm, since once there was a regular delivery scheduled, it would be hard for him to arrange ships for irregular cargo shipping requests. Although there were only a few ships, he had found new hope in them.

 
***

 
"Mr. Eriksson, the Azerbaijani government is complaining that the mercenary company you introduced fell short of their expectations. Do you know any other?"
"It's because the Azerbaijani government doesn't have many experiences with mercenary companies. What kind of companies would attack a country as if they're going to war? They usually move in secret and attack at once in the right time."
 
The government had requested the destruction of Armenian military facilities in disguise to a mercenary company, but the government was not satisfied with the company's methods but Eriksson's words were convincing enough.
 
"I'll tell them to stop pressing."
"That's the best mercenary company I know of. You don't need to be concerned. If the government hurts the company's pride, it might side with Armenia and accept requests from it."
 
It was unfortunate but because the government had hired mercenary warriors, the sacrifices of innocent lives had become inevitable. Since the military weapons were disguised as civilian properties, there would be shootouts and explosions in the sites of those properties. Youngho wished that there would not be unnecessary sacrifices but it was an unavoidable choice for him since all of his people could live in peace if Armenia's weapons were destroyed.
If the mercenaries failed, Youngho was willing to do their job himself. It was not because he loved Azerbaijan or he disliked Armenia but because he lived in Baku and all of his living was in Baku. Moreover, the Serbian descendants, who were only reunited with the Archduchess after long waiting, would be sacrificed if he did not act. He would do anything to save them.

Empire of the Ring is a Korean modern fantasy epic adventure novel that sets in the nations of the Caucasus mountain range which separates Europe and Asia. The nations of Caucasus are regions of many conflicts over territories, ethnicities, and religions. The story begins as Lee Youngho, a warm-hearted Korean merchandiser, takes a business trip to a disputed territory of the Caucasus nations to sell Korean unmanned security systems only to get misconstrued as a spy and caught by Armenian militia. Youngho eventually gets involved with the militia and CIA to help out people of the regions from conflicts and works toward a birth of a new empire in Caucasus.

This is an ongoing novel from Korea with more than 750 chapters as of today. The pace can feel a little bit slow in the beginning but as the story unfolds, you will be drawn into the world of Caucasus. If you are a modern fantasy/adventure lover, you will enjoy learning about different regions and cultures in Eurasia and Eastern Europe as Youngho travels around the places. Happy reading! 

*Disclaimer: The following contains depictions of religion and ethnic disputes. We do not support the author's views, we are only translating and editing the novel. This fictional novel is inspired by real-world people, places, and events — the author has taken these people, places, and events and embellished them as characters with conversations and backgrounds as done in fiction.

"Aryan. Welcome. To what purpose do I owe this visit?"
Inside a room in Fortress Alpha, Caity, Cara, and Ryan welcomed the Camp York Tier 2 Mutant.
Aryan took a small sip of a glass of drink on the table. It was some sort of soda. Aryan didn't recognize the taste exactly. In fact, he has tasted beverages much better than this one before the apocalypse, but after a full year of scarcity, he was more than happy to drink something that wasn't water.
If this was the case of a member of Camp York's upper class, then what was going on with the establishment's common survivors was just a disaster.
He only replied when he put the glass back down.
"Colonel Hunter, Lord Apollo and my fellow comrades were quite satisfied with the results of our last trade. In fact," He grinned politely. "we were hoping to establish a long-term trade relationship between Fortress Alpha and Camp York."
Last time, he brought back to Camp York trucks of food, beverages, and alcohol. These were all things that were either exhausted or have gone bad after the fall of the civilization, and Apollo was happy. Even as the head of thousands and the leader of an entire camp, he didn't have access to luxuries like that.
Just Lord Apollo himself claimed at least half of what Aryan brought back. Aryan himself claimed another large portion, and the other Tier 2 Mutants split the rest.
But food and drinks would always run out, and eventually, the Mutants wanted more.
A few militant Mutants proposed taking Fortress Alpha by force, but Aryan managed to shut down that idea. Why risk going to war when there was a peaceful way? If ordinary York Troopers or Tier 1 Mutants died in the fight, fine, but if some of the Tier 2 Mutants were wounded or even killed, then it would just be a stupid thing to do.
Plus, it seemed like Fortress Alpha wasn't alone. One mistake, and Camp York could be wiped out for some snacks and drinks.
Plus, by the details of the deal, Fortress Alpha wasn't ripping Camp York off either with their demands.
Apollo agreed with him, sort of. In fact, as the leader of the camp, he went a step further and had something else in mind. Thus came Aryan's second trip to Fortress Alpha.
Caity was smiling inside. Section X analysts have come up with this plan a long time ago. Things like drinks and food were like treasures in World Alpha, but there were as many of them as needed for Section X. In a trade like this, Section X didn't even need to rip Camp York off to make a huge profit.
"Very well." She replied, doing her best to make sure her satisfaction wouldn't reach the surface. "I'm sure we can arrange a deal…"
"Of course," Aryan added. "however, Lord Apollo has a request."
Caity frowned. "Name it. We will do whatever we can to satisfy his demands." She was expecting Apollo to want something material, maybe a specific type of food or something. She didn't expect what Aryan said next.
"Lord Apollo wants you to visit Camp York, where he will personally discuss with you the terms of the deal."
As soon as the words came out, the room went dead silent. A few seconds passed before Caity cracked a smile.
"Of course. I will make a few arrangements, and…" She glanced at a clock. "we should be able to leave in a few hours."
Both Ryan and Cara snapped to their Colonel with shock in their eyes. Aryan was surprised by the response as well. What he first said was just the cover. This invitation was his real reason here, and he expected sharp resistance before he could convince the woman in command of Fortress Alpha to step onto the potentially hostile ground.
Caity turned to Cara. She could sense the confusion, but she wasn't ready to share her reasoning in front of Aryan. "Please find our guest a place to rest for a few hours."
As the two left the room and the door shut behind them, Ryan finally gave voice to his concerns.
"That's a terrible idea, Caity."
Caity. Not Colonel Hunter. Ryan was so concerned that he called Caity by her first name and not her rank and last name.
"Did you forget the Red Wedding? If you walk into Camp York, I doubt you'll be able to leave again! Those Mutants at Camp York have no ethics or honor! If we leave the entrenchments, even if you bring the entire Regiment, we can't protect you! The best possibility is they take you hostage and demand us to surrender Fortress Alpha! What are you thinking?"
For the first time since they met, it was Ryan being the emotional one.
Finally, Caity replied.
"No. They won't make a move on me. Across the multiple encounters, we have convinced them that Fortress Alpha is just one of many bases, and we are just a small component in a large, powerful, and extremely resourceful faction. They won't take me hostage or do anything drastic because it's too risky. If we were telling the truth, I, as a mere officer, wouldn't be good leverage, and attacking me will merely direct the full wrath of our faction on Camp York."
She reassured Ryan. "It will be risky for us, but the risks are not that extraordinary in terms of what we have done."
"But why?" Ryan couldn't help but ask. "It will be better to strike a deal on our home turf than in their base. This is a seller's market here! We are the sellers! They don't have any leverage right now!"
"Relax, Ryan." Caity frowned. This wasn't the Ryan Carlson she knew. For some reason, Ryan was being very disturbed. "I have my reasons."
"Such as?"
"Such as we know nothing about Camp York." Caity's retaliation was swift. "We haven't seen any Tier 2 Mutants in combat and we have no idea how to counter them. We don't know the combat capabilities of Camp York. If we want to expand our influences in this world, we can't avoid Camp York."
"Then send someone else! You are the Colonel in command, not some random messenger! Do you see Apollo coming into our camp himself? No! Because a leader never puts herself at risk!"
Caity didn't answer until Ryan's complaints died down.
"This is uncharacteristic of you, Ryan."
"What?" Ryan snapped.
"I said this is very uncharacteristic of you, Ryan." Caity repeated. "I have never seen you like this. So...excited. Are you alright?"
Ryan frowned. He realized it as well. He has never snapped like this, no matter what poor decisions others have made. In fact, he was still the same with most things. Cold. Uncaring. Just wanted to do his part and get this over with. But with Caity...he just couldn't be the same.
Caity had so many characteristics he not just respected, but also liked. She was strong. Independent. Decisive. Smart. He actually cared for and respected her, and that was why he was so frightened when Caity wanted to put herself at risk once again.
As Ryan calmed down a little, Caity added.
"Most Phasewalkers have gone through training to be soldiers, not envoys. I don't trust anyone in Fortress Alpha for this task. Even you, Ryan...you are just not built for this."
Ryan couldn't agree more. Whenever he had to talk, he went straight to the point. I make an offer. You say yes or no. If you say no, I make another offer. It took so much more than a tongue to be an envoy, and by the looks of it, Caity might be the best choice.
But Ryan still had concerns.
"We have been ordered to launch another mission to clear out more Mutants and further expand our influence. You are the Colonel. We need someone with the experience to command us."
Caity suddenly glanced at Ryan, and the Regiment Commissar felt chills down his spine.
"Oh no...no no no...that's a terrible idea! I will not…"
But Caity didn't give Ryan a chance to say no.
"Regiment Commissar Carlson. As the Colonel in command of the 1st Phasewalker Regiment, I order you to act as the Regiment Commander in my absence. You will lead whatever mission the Regiment has to carry out in the meantime."
Ryan sighed. "Look, Caity. There's a reason you are the Commander, not me. I would rather be a soldier than the commander..."
"Well, the situation needs you to be the commander, not a soldier." Caity cut him off. "Or are you going to disobey my command?"
Caity knew Ryan hated the responsibility that came with authority. Caity hated the same thing herself, and she respected Ryan's choice to stay away from that. Yet, the situation required Ryan to step up and pick up the mantle. She simply didn't trust the others enough for the task.
Now, theoretically, as the Regiment Commissar, Ryan could resist Caity's order, but if there was something he hated more than responsibility for something he had little control over, it was using the authority he was given for personal purposes. Ryan would never use his power as a commissar to ease his own burdens.
Ryan sighed. Caity and him might have only known each other for little more than months, but they learned more than enough about each other during that time. Caity's expectations were fully accurate.
"I understand, Colonel." Ryan nodded slowly.
---
In the end, Caity decided to take just a small but elite force of Phasewalkers to Camp York. If Camp York meant her ill, which was highly unlikely, then no amount of Phasewalkers would be enough. In that case, she might as well leave more forces for Ryan to work with on the incoming expedition.
Out of the 70 Security Troopers of the Regiment Security Battalion, Caity ended up taking 50 of them. They were all Generation I elites, armed with some of the best weapons the Phasewalkers got from Fort Sentinel. They would be transported by two Leopard APCs.
This force was led by Platoon Commissar Charlotte Williams. Caity took her assistant Cara Mason with her as well.
Ryan wasn't there to send Caity off. He was concerned about the Colonel, but he forced himself to turn that concern into strength. He told himself one simple thing. The better the expanding missions go, the more influence and leverage Fortress Alpha had, and the safer Caity would be at Camp York. At the very least, if something went wrong, Ryan would have more assets to either rescue Caity or avenge her.
This was the only way Ryan could tame the gnawing feeling that there was nothing he could do to protect someone he cared about.
In the Command Center, Ryan scanned the room. All the major Commanders of the Regiment were here. Majors in command and Battalion Commissars of all five Battalions, as well as a number of other Phasewalker personnel. Ryan first turned to Major Blyfield.
"Major Blyfield. The 2nd Airborne Battalion has been tasked with gathering information of the surroundings of Fortress Alpha. What are the results?"
Ryan went straight to the point. They were going to war, not a dance party. Blyfield did the same thing, more than happy with a dry and direct exchange.
"As you are all aware of, we have dominance over the area within a 10-kilometer radius of Fortress Alpha. Our scouts regularly patrol this area. All the Mutants within this radius have been exterminated."
He pointed at a map on a computer screen.
"The vanguard that Commissar Carlson and Colonel Hunter were in moved North upon exiting the Portal. There, they found a major road. One intersection off the road led to Kaneton, but if we were to follow the road, we would reach the city of New Sara."
"What?" Major Olsen asked at the unfamiliar name.
"It does not correspond to a city in our world." Major Blyfield has done his research. "In fact, our troopers found a map of this world and compared it to our world. We are in North America, but the geological structures are a bit different, so our location doesn't correspond to anywhere back home."
"It is a different world." Ryan pulled the others back to the topic. "Please continue, Major."
"Yes sir." Blyfield went on. "The other three directions are mainly open plains. We managed to pinpoint a number of farms with the help of locals my men ran into."
"Where is Camp York?" Another Major suddenly asked.
"Camp York is in the South. That's where Aryan's convoy came in." Major Blyfield turned back to Ryan. "Sir, I must warn you. The area around Fortress Alpha is just a small place compared to the outside world, and we still lost dozens securing it. If we try to expand our influence, we will encounter resistance, and there will be casualties. A lot of casualties." He emphasized.
If they were to move through with this order, a lot of people would die, and their blood would be on the hands of everyone in this room.
All eyes turned to Ryan as the room went silent.
Ryan sighed before answering their gaze with a simple response.
"The path to ascension is paved with the bones of the martyrs, and if it is our destiny to burn, then so be it."
"All...for Victory."
The others lowered their heads before declaring in a low but determined voice.
"For Victory."

“Perhaps we are indeed the main characters of the story, but who is to say we are not the Galactic Republic in the prequel --- No matter how many victories we seize or how many foes we slay, our fate has been sealed from the very beginning.” --- KR043.

When a portal to another world was created in the deserts of Nevada, the United States, humanity was faced with a choice. Neglect it, and pray nothing happens. Or confront it, and in doing so, pay a dear cost. 

Earth chose the latter, and thus, came the heroic tales of the Phasewalker Corps.

And thus, came the numberless skirmishes, battles, and wars that would ravage across Humanity's enemies. 

And thus, came the warcry that would soon echo through countless worlds. 

"For Earth! For Humanity! For...Victory!"

This is the story of the generation that burns.

" You really love your friends allot " Taehyung said . Why am I not surprised . Little Alien .

" Yeah , they are like my family . Actually , they are my family we have known each other since we could remember . You guys , how you fight and tease each other. Reminds me alot of them . " I told them with a little smile forming on my lips .
Which they also returned .

" And to answer your question so,

One , I'm the leader of this all.

Two , you will know the name when we will make our entry . It's not decided as I am Stuck in New York .

Three, I have majored in field of fashion designing so me, and two of my friends also will take major part in this until everything in back on its own feets . We have booked a designer he won many awards before being retired at a young age now that designer wants to make comeback so we signed him up. And some designers from Europe and America .

Four , our publishing house would be personally controlled and supervised by me along with all other businesses . I like this business . And we have signed many author and writers . Like Elliott James , Emily johnson , Katherine Dawson , Anonymousjk and etc ...

Five , thank you for offering help . If there will be anything I will put your offer in consideration --" 

I was cut off by Jungkook as he literally raced to me from his side of waiting room and sat by my side . 
I was stunned ... Would be an understatement. 

" Really , did you just said Anonymousjk ? Do you know her ? Have you seen her ? " 
He began out blast with the questions 

Now I was amused .

No one knows who Anonymousjk is or no one has ever seen her . How could they . Cause it's me . I write the books and then send them to some publishing house with details and they just publish them . No one know that the great author "Anonymousjk " is me ?
 Not even my friends know about it . Writting is my escape from all the things . When ever I would want to eascape I would just write . I didn't knew that they would make it to top-sellers in a little time . My every book has gone became Top - sellers in a very little time.

"Yes I said Anonymousjk. I don't know much about her . She wants to keeps her privacy . And I have to respect my employs principals . So I am sorry ." I told him with my earnest sincerity .

It's not like if I would just say 'hey, that's me ' I am sure not just him but no one would take it serious and would think I am insane .

" Oh, I am sorry . I am just a huge fan of her. Firstly I didn't even knew that if Anonymousjk was a he or she . Until her second book had little note for readers . " He said while pouting .

" Yeah, he is a huge fan boy of that writer . He has a huge collection of her books " Seokjin told me .

I reached in my little bag and took out a little book from it . Yup it was mine book of Anonymousjk and I myself have signed it . I have just given these signed books to my four friends. And this one is mine . I just told them that I got them through some connections and when I told them that Anonymousjk was also signed for our publishing house they went haywire to meet her but I just avoided it by saying she wants privacy and I will be her personal agent . And what not .

I told him to close him eyes . He just widened his eyes . I scolded him to close his eyes he eventually closed his eyes . 
I brought the book close to his eyes and told him to open them .

When he hesitantly opened his eyes . And saw the book with signature of Anonymousjk . 
He quickly grabbed it from my hands .
Squealing like a little kid .

" Thank you so much Emma thanks ... Thanks .." 

" No prob--". I was cutted off by the bone crushing hug of Jeon Jungkook . 

I was shocked but hesitantly hugged him back . WOW!! his chest his so hard and warm...

When he realized what he did . He quickly pulled back and went to tracing back the signature . He was not meeting my gaze . His cheeks were turning a deep shade of red and his ears were already red... Cute.

I cleared my throat . And went back to eating food . 

The boys were having a smug grins on their faces . I just ignored them .

" So , do you live in Korea ?" 
I asked them .

"Yes . Born and grown there except these little tours overseas ." 
Hoseok said proudly .

"So , what do you do ? As in job?" I asked them .

" Just some business corps around the South Korea and other stuff ." Jimin said with his fidgety gaze . I could see that they were not telling something . But it's their matter . I don't even know if we would meet again . 

But as they say they are also in business and stuff . I just hope we shouldn't be rivals ...
They are so sweet personalities .

They seem to think about me just some random rich kiddo wasting money with no skills.

They shouldn't under estimate me.

"Wow, you guys are also in business . Then please take care of me from now on " I told them now switching in my usual cold poker face .
Which means . I-mean-real-buisness.

"Of course , Emma . You are most welcome to South Korea " Namjoon said . 

" Well, why did you came to New York ? "
I asked them . But their faces turned sour if I am not wrong that were looks of pure sadness, grief , desire , want . And other things I couldn't pinpoint .

They are turned to Min Yoongi . Who was staring at me . When I turned to him he just turned his head down and mumbled 
"Just some stuff" 

I think a stepped on some nerve or some taboo. I shouldn't have. The most cheerful atmosphere turned to grief and depressing one .

curiousity kills the cat 🐈!!

Emmanuelle Hawkins , that's her name .
or is it ?

one of eligible richest and smartest bachelor of north-america.
hidden under many secrets even she isn't aware of ..
living in a toxic life .

but finally she escapes the golden cage and runs away . 
can she escape or will past finds it way .

hated , abused and ignored by her family 
And the reason.
Her gender . Pfff! ( atleast , that's what she thinks) 

Can say her father is insane or a male chauvinist.
A person living in 21st century has such mindset . Well, he has.
Simple only one term to define it "chauvinism "

After a long term of feeling inferior and long - term planning .The richest and most eligible bachelor of The country decided to .... Escape....

How is she gonna escape ? 
Let's adventure ?
A girl full of secrets ??

Goofy , right .

-anonymous writer

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