I just got on my plane from Jamaica back to the United States, and from there I'm going to be heading out to Russia for a visit with my relatives.

My god, the jetlag is going to kick my ASS when I get back.

Of course, while I'm in Russia, I'll be fine. I never really adjusted to the American time zone, and I usually end up falling asleep at three in the afternoon and waking up at five in the morning the next day.

Working on a new story too, and while it's called INTERFERENCE, I've titled it "mehz" in my word documents. I'm not creative when it comes to names, did you notice?

Anyhow, INTERFERENCE takes place around a guy named Sam Carter. He's a hitman. He used to be an Elite member of the Special Ops., but then he was discharged and took up the job of a part-time construction worker by day. However, by night, or when nobody notices, he grabs his two best friends, Beretta 9 mm and Desert Eagle .50 cal, a whole lot of ammo, and a Tavor assault rifle, and sets off to rid the world as we know it of corrupted swine within the system.

All this with Matrix-esque slow motion and combat.

I employ Gun Kata very much in this story. Gun Kata treats the gun as a total weapon, each fluid position representing a maximum kill zone, inflicting maximum damage on the maximum number of opponents, while keeping the defender clear of the statistically-traditional trajectories of return fire.

In other words, ninjas with pistols not only kick your ass, but fill it with lead too. And to quote one of my more popular resident badass characters I've ever created, Jason Matroya:

"There ain't nothing more refreshing than the sound of lead being shot out of a barrel."

Another similar quote goes like this:

"That's what I love about this war: the thrill of getting shot, and then returning the favor ten times more until the barrels on your guns melt off."

As you might have guessed, Matroya's a trigger happy bullet fanatic who joined the military for the sole purpose to kick/beat/smash/shoot/crack/blast/frag /cremate the living shit out of whoever wanted to try their luck with him.

So, just to give you a clue as to what happens during INTERFERENCE, here's a small sample, courtesy of the author, Jason Haley:

~~~~~

"Comerade Miron!" Nikolai cried.

Sergeant Miron Konstantin, twenty-four years of age, company gunner, had been shot ten times in the chest by the damaged barrel of a dying Nazi's MP-44 sub-machine gun. Time seemed to have slowed; but he wasn't in pain. No, the pain wasn't there. He was trained to not feel pain.

But he was also trained to live.

Curse his luck!

"Get a medic over here, now!" Senior Lieutenant Nikolai Petrovich, company sniper, shouted as the clouds from the gunfight finally began to die down. Company medic, Master Sergeant Yuri Yakobi, rushed over with his frost-covered medical kit. It was a dark night in Moscow, both for the residents of the Motherland's greatest city, which layed in ruins, and for the 47th Infantry Division. This mission was supposed to be simple; They were to meet up with the 56th Armor Division to deliver the necessary equipment for repairs on some of their tanks. They never saw the all-too-sudden ambush that came from all directions. First to go down was Alexei, shot in the back of the head by a sniper. Then went Mikhail, sprayed by automatic gunfire in the side. Then Pavlov, company heavy gunner. The battle lasted for an hour, sixty minutes of bullets chipping stone and nearly scalping heads. Sixty minutes of grenade explosions. Sixty long and grueling minutes of shouting, stabbing, and even smashing skulls with the butts of SVT-40 rifles.

When it all came to a close, Miron heard the faint sounds of a cowardly Fascist and turned just in time to be met with one last spray of gunfire before he was silenced by Colonel Sergei Agostov, smoking pistol in hand.

~~~~~

That was an excerpt from the prologue of the story, back in the 1940s, when Hitler was off being a one-nut fag to the rest of the world, knowing his ass was going to be cheese if he lost. And he lost. And the victorious had Nazi burgers the following days. (Okay, well, that's how it went in MY head. What really happened was Hitler said "Oh fuck!" and commit suicide when the Allied Forces invaded Germany, and then the Nazis surrendered.)

This, by the way, is the only part of the story where I even TRY to make a reference to World War 2. I normally don't bother with that subject because, for some reason, every other author can get away with writing about it, but the second I bring it up, all HELL breaks loose. And frankly, I got sick of all the hate comments saying that what I write is offensive.

HELLO?!

DID YOU NOT SEE THE TAG THAT SAID "WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT AND IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, CHILDREN, ANYBODY EASILY OFFENDED, OR ANYBODY WHO DOESN'T LIKE VIOLENCE?!" IT WAS THE BIGGEST NOTICE IN THE WHOLE DAMN STORY!

Okay, I'm done now.

I leave you with this random picture of a gun fight. Enjoy.

Oh yeah, and before I forget: This is a Tavor, in case you were wondering.