-The Crow's Nest-
As I made my way to the staging area, I couldn't help questioning the days date in disbelief. For it was nearly winter, yet this unforgiving climate was showing no signs of yielding in what felt like a decade of Indian summers.
Not to be beaten, I skipped up the tired metal steps to the viewing gallery where I found Hal my assistant, albeit cloaked by a cloud of opiates. With neither of us in the mood for small talk, we exchanged grunts and readied ourselves for the task at hand.
Below us stood three purposeful looking young men dressed in their country's full combat fatigues wrapped in ready-made sweat bags. They were covered from head to toe, with a stocking cap layered in aluminium foil playing the role of cherry on top. Glancing at the thermal scan, I couldn't help sympathizing with the three logs of fire that stood before me.
With everything in place, I looked to Hal for his signature good-to-go smoke signal. Having received the green light, I reached for the microphone and addressed the candidates;
"Gentlemen, I trust you have read your briefing packets and took note of the house rules. You may take your seats, we will begin at once."
With that, the three men collapsed into their allotted seats trying to catch their breath. From high above, I took stock of caffeine supplies and began directing proceedings from the relative comfort of my oven-baked control room.
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