Preparation

Bach was the top person in charge of the maintenance department in Haskel. He was known for his giant, glaring, bloodshot eyes as well as his thundering, eardrum-rupturing mortal howl, "Move harder, punks! The captain did not pay for you sissies to tell me things won't work! Hurry up! We have a long pier of reinforcement to do, yes? What, impossible? What did I say just now?" The scowl was twitching, "Make it possible!" Father Bach, or maybe more fashionably, Daddy Bach, was in his blue collared uniform tainted by the last few continuous days of work, he had not been sleeping ever since. Stain of oils were over his body, his hair was tussling, the red eyes intensified.

This was the third day in a row.

It almost felt like a dream, of an endless war.