Forty Miles West

Forty Miles West: A Tale Of Bravado And Bravery

CHAPTER 1: FIRST RECONNISCANCE

Aaron Greene sat at the table on 45th street at the Pirelli Café, an "okay" restaurant that merely pretended to be high end. He stared at the huge nuclear and gasoline power plant that stood over everybody at 555 feet tall. It was a huge platform that suspended a private runway, six cooling towers, a nuclear reactor, several petroleum refineries, and two grey office buildings on each side, where the higher-ups of Backgammon, the huge, evil corporation that was severely anti- environmental pocketed the money. 24/7, day in, day out, 365 days a year, the power station shot fumes up into the air. The semi-trucks took gasoline all over the country, and the pollution caused by the refinery reached as far as the Powell National Wilderness, and the pollution caused by the other locations owned by Backgammon made Sacklon's raw, natural wilderness unenjoyable by the other hikers and explorers that came from as far as central Europe to experience the nature that was no longer there. The San Verdes white shark had gone extinct because of a deadly oil spill off the coast of San Verdes County in 2008. Some days, the air quality in downtown Ashler City was so bad, residents were forced to stay indoors, and sunny days were the same as cloudy days. On social media, everyone seemed to be against Backgammon, and the hate against them was growing. The only problem was, Backgammon was growing faster. A single share of Backgammon was as high as $15,000 in late 2013, and rising on average 2.85 points a day, rarely going down. By 2017, 18% of the buildings on the skyline were owned by Backgammon. Soon, they moved to other areas of businesses, like construction, pharmaceutical drug use, weapons development, you name it. And every single one of them was not the least bit innocent. Aaron took one last look at the 2,800 foot tower down the street that was taller than the Burj Khalifa by almost 100 feet. Aaron threw fifteen dollars on the table, got into his BMW i8, and left. He had a job too, but he usually worked the nightshift.

At a somewhat flat area in the Beloye Mountains, a Backgammon military training station sat between a huge rock face and a snowy hill that blocked the rest of the city's view from the training barracks. The training station, which was given a number, 01, sat 812 feet above sea level, and housed hundreds of corrupt, trigger-happy mercenaries ready to make Swiss cheese out of anything in their way. The facility was state of the art, with six luxury gyms, a shooting range, armory, helipad, combat area, and garage that stored from tactical jeeps to M1A2 SEP v2 tanks. In addition, there were ten floors to the building, each one serving a different purpose. The top floor, for example, was used when the executives and consultants stayed when they were actively selecting troops for whatever nefarious requirement they held. There were four sniper posts that bordered the station, taking turns as watchdogs, clutching their VKS sniper rifles. In conclusion, the training station contained many things, but what really caught the investor's eye was the new artillery shell that packed enough power to take down the Backgammon Grand Tower. It was top secret though, and only the higher-ups and the engineers knew what it was. It was said to be extremely dangerous, and the files were sent to the Training Station 01. The giant radio tower on the top was its connection to the rest of the world, and with no doubt, these training stations and other business locations granted them access to have Sacklon under their thumb. The police were so corrupt they were told by a mysterious someone to not respond to any calls related to Backgammon unless they were the ones being attacked. The government was equally corrupt, who had a prime minister who only believed in wealth for himself but poverty for others. He was showered with money from Backgammon, and with that, they basically owned Sacklon. Soon, there was word that the company leaders that were high on the hierarchy were debating on moving their business to Australia with copper and silver mines, or even San Diego with more gasoline refineries and oil pumps to send to gas stations in California. After all, they were the ones who were driving auto sales. Point is, nobody dare stand up to them. Nobody.