"The sound of the air, forming like a shield atthe tip of his airplane, was almost deafening to pilot, Mark Young, he had learned to fly before he had learned to drive, and that was saying something, his name was pretty descriptive of himself...
	"Thirty million firestorms closin' in!, the flames ofthe rage, could set fire to tin!" Blared the rock music over the radio of the pilots aircraft, ever since he had quit the airforce, he had spent his time rocking out, customizing his plane, and getting high in his partially underground airstrip.