"You know, the way you describe the events that have happened to you, and all the other aspects of your life, people are going to wonder whether you're really this cool or if you just a pile of shit."

I don't consider myself cool.

I mean, seriously, this is about ALL that I am:

I'm a Russian-born child who moved to America when he was about 12. Orphaned. Changed name.

I went to school until the end of my senior year in High School. Graduated.

I joined the military at age seventeen. Became a Captain after about six months in service because I managed to earn myself a silver star and a medal of honor.

I retired from military service after being rescued from captivity by the bad guys. I now walk with a bit of a limp because my leg got messed up.

I took up a part time job as a bartender for about five months. I got fired because of a particularly bad night.

I now currently reside at my home in California, with my adopted brother, Leif Markus, my former room mate, Aiden Harold, and my girlfriend, Marina Day. My friends from the military stop by and say hi now and then.

I've decided to put my literary talents to use for the enjoyment of others by writing stories about the thrills, horrors, ups, downs, and boring parts of military service. Sure, they may be fantastical and not-exactly-here-and-now, but in my mind, it doesn't matter.

I'm basically just a normal guy who was once a proud member of the U.S. Marines. Nothing spectacular, I'm just saying it as it is. If people find reason to complain, well, they can piss off. My life is my life, and not you, nor anybody else in this world has the right to decide what's real and what's fiction. Not in my life.

I want to make sure that I'm absolutely clear when I say this: You have no say when it comes to Jason Haley, alias Nikolai Petrovich.

Capiche?

(P.S.: I've now left Mirny and am heading for my hometown of Moscow. After Moscow, I head out to Tokyo, then Hirojima, then I can head back to California and go home.)