A short, incomplete tale.

Thanks so much, it was all rather helpful .
oh and he isn't form England! He was merely schooled in England.

Hey, happy review day! I shall be your reviewer, so lets start!

ahmedBurooj wrote:The first traces of life were yet to be seen, as the snow came down, and the quiet town of Minsk slept peacefully--unaware of what the future beheld.

At 5:40AM, at a staggering -23 degree Celsius, nobody was expected to be awake in the #FF0000 ">quiet town of Russia. Yet in one mansion, a man hobbled around, still dazed from a vivid dream.

The tall, lanky man, went about his daily routine#FF0000 ">, comma shaving his beard, taking a bath(although some considered it insane, to bathe in the early hours of the morning. The cold, justified their point-of-view.) #FF0000 ">, comma and trading his night-gown, for a slightly more-than-appropriate overcoat and jacket, all the while a constant thought on his mind-Today, might be the day.
He sported a handsome Rolex on his left wrist#FF0000 ">, comma accompanied by otherwise empty hands. Accessorizing wasn’t for him. The watch too, was merely in memory of his late mother, who’d given it to him. He wasn’t one of the nostalgic creatures, but wear it#FF0000 ">, comma he did.

On his way to the front door, he paused for an instant, looking out of the window in dismay, at the snow-engulfed scene; winter sure as hell had hit them hard this year.
It went as quickly as it had come, and his dismayed look#FF0000 ">, was replaced with a straight face, betraying no traces of any emotion, whatsoever.

He stroked his perfectly shaved chin, and put on his fur gloves, as he stepped out for an agonizing thirteen seconds, to get the morning paper. The man had spent most of his childhood in England #FF0000 ">, which That justified his impeccable English, much unlike the rest of the Town. It also explained why he had a double subscription from the News agency; One in English, the other in Russian.
"Why can't they just drop it at the doorstep? It's utterly irrational to leave it all the way at the front gate!" he muttered under his breath. The morning wind pierced him through his overcoat, as though he was being vaccinated with knives and spears. The cold was something that you just couldn't acclimate to.

Finally back in his cozy arm-chair, he settled in with his breakfast--Bacon, Eggs and Coffee, courtesy of the Cook-- in front of the LCD T.V.
Morning news was a daily, #FF0000 ">unavoidable affair, but for quite a few weeks now, all that had been flashing on the screen, was the rising death-toll, after the eruption of several nuclear plants, in Japan.

“A recent Tsunami, in Japan, has caused the cooling-systems of Nuclear power-plants to fail. The Japanese government had been perspicuous-They are helpless. The feeble attempts at cooling the nuclear reactor have failed miserably, and the country is vulnerable. There still remains a nuclear reactor, off the coast of Fukuoka, which is in a state of emergency, but still hasn’t exploded. Experts say that this is the biggest nuclear plant in the World, and the effects of an explosion, would be ghastly, and affect the whole world, on a major scale. Evacuation attempts are being initiated, and insiders suggest that although the area has been sealed off, radiation leak#FF0000 ">s are a possibility#FF0000 ">, comma” Reported the woman, sitting in the CNN studio.
The World was in peril, and Vladimir Russo looked on indifferently, casually sipping his #FF0000 ">coffee, while occasionally examining the Business #FF0000 ">newspaper #FF0000 ">with a professional, controlled anxiety--

“Business! Ah, the practicality of it!” He thought to himself. The statistics averred that he had lost large amounts of money, thanks to the stock market crash, after the Japanese market blew up#FF0000 ">, comma literally. "Never mind, though. Unimaginable riches are assured! My plan shall increase my inheritance by a tenfold!" Just then, you could've sworn that his lips hinted of a smile#FF0000 ">, but just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared in a flash. No time for emotions, just yet.

The next hour passed in a similar fashion; Scanning the #FF0000 ">newspaper for potentially interesting articles, and throwing #FF0000 ">uninterested glances at the T.V, every once in a while. All the time, the plate of breakfast remained untouched, although, the Coffee mug had been refilled several times. Caffeine #FF0000 ">was what a man needed! The food was unnecessary. He’d have to remind Ivan, to let the cook know, that #FF0000 ">he needn’t prepare breakfast, unless told #FF0000 ">otherwise.
Ivan was the Butler, assistant, driver, and almost anything that Vladimir could require. Towering at 6Ft. 7in. with a dominating frame, he could easily have been a #FF0000 ">bodyguard to any high-profile celebrity, or even a General in the Army (#FF0000 ">Which he had tried to convince him to join them, time and time again), but he preferred the company of his master, Vladimir. The one thing about his master #FF0000 ">that intrigued Ivan, was the fact that he mostly did everything himself. For instance, getting the newspaper, from the front gate.

The sun touched the Russo estate, at approximately 7:00am, and Vladimir summoned his butler.
#FF0000 ">¶
“Good Morning, Sir#FF0000 ">, comma” Greeted Ivan. “How may I be of assistance?”
#FF0000 ">¶
“Well, just get the car ready. I have an ever-so-important appointment.”
#FF0000 ">¶
“Right away, Sir#FF0000 ">.” The Butler had learnt never to doubt Mr. Russo’s judgment, or his intelligence. Being a multi-billionaire, and having a few hundred patents to your name, must stand for something, right#FF0000 ">?
“Oh and, Ivan; Tell the cook, not to prepare my Breakfast, unless told.”

The Butler hurried away, to carry out the tasks at hand. It’d always been in this orderly manner#FF0000 ">; Russo said, Ivan did. The butler did most of everything for him. A proof of this was the fact#FF0000 ">, that Russo had never even seen his #FF0000 ">cook! It was always “Ivan this” and “Ivan that”.

In precisely three minutes the metallic-silver Rolls Royce Phantom stood at the front gate. The car was a fine example of the wealth of #FF0000 ">the Russo#FF0000 ">’s. While most of the Town possessed mere Toyota Corolla’s and Honda Accord’s of around 600,00руб (Russian Rubles), Russo, owned a 11,000,000 руб #FF0000 ">car Rolls Royce Phantom.
As usual, Ivan sat within it, with an ever-present smile on his lips.
As soon as Master Russo had entered the vehicle, they began their descent, from atop the hill, where the foundation of Russo Manor sat. It looked over the whole town, and brought with it, a sense of supremacy. The seven-acre plot, had orchards of #FF0000 ">mangoes and #BF0000 ">apples in the East, and the front lawn, was extravagantly bejeweled with Roses, Lilacs, Gargoyles and a big Central Fountain. A man of rich tastes, indeed. Correct me if I'm wrong, but mangoes cannot be cultivated in countries that have long and cold winters

Vladimir told his #FF0000 ">butler the location where he wished to go, and after a few keystrokes on the GPS, Ivan pin-pointed the location to a blip on the screen, some four miles south of them. The commute took lesser time than expected, since no one was out on the streets.
After a few minutes, they were parked on the curb, in front of an untidy house; the yard was a mess, tattered curtains hung drawn, and the snow #FF0000 "> had not been shoveled. It seemed fairly impossible , to think that life existed within modestly large house.
#FF0000 ">¶
“Are you sure this is the place, sir?” The butler asked, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.
#FF0000 ">¶
“Very much so, Ivan. Very much”, avowed Vladimir and with that, he strode out of the car, and up to the front door.
#FF0000 ">¶
“Three raps should do it”, he decided, and knocked. Ivan strayed a few feet behind him, his hand within his inner jacket pocket. It rested upon the grip of the IMI Desert Eagle #FF0000 ">that laid in his pocket. The weapon had muzzle energy of 1,560 Joules, and with Ivan’s expert marksmanship, his master seemed in no danger what-so-ever.
Out came an untidy little man, much like the house itself. He had an #FF0000 ">unshaven I suggest 'days' old beard' here beard, and wore circular#FF0000 ">, comma wire-rimmed spectacles. Dark circles, were prominent under his eyes, and he looked in a dire need of caffeine.
Fashioning a white lab-coat (or the remains of one), he spoke#FF0000 ">, comma “Ah, Mr. Russo! How are y..”
#BF0000 ">¶
“Do you have what we talked about?” Russo was never one to socialize.
The man nodded, and proceeded into the house.
#FF0000 ">¶
“This could be it!” Thought Russo, shaking uncontrollably with excitement. Behind him, Ivan followed, hand still tense on the grip of his gun.
The man, (Blake McCaughey, his name was) was a close acquaintance of Russo. Of course, when one had money, everyone was a friend. He was a scientist, who assisted Vladimir on all of his inventions. The thing is, Vladimir was definitely the brains, but he barely had the brawns to ‘make’ anything. So, he merely sent the plans over to Blake, and he converted them, from ideas on a paper, to real life inventions. Like most of the people working for him, Russo had never seen Blake. Their communication (which involved sending the plans, and receiving the object), were through post. But today, was different. Today was of the utmost importance#FF0000 ">.
#FF0000 ">¶
An eerie aura surrounded the place, as Russo #FF0000 ">traveled deeper into the catacomb of a house. Cereal boxes, clothes, and papers were strewn everywhere, and there was a nauseating dampness in the air. Blake, who was rumbling on and on about the weather (or some topic that Russo found utterly #FF0000 ">uninteresting,) talked in a strong Irish accent. He was 5Ft. 7in. and a rather chatty man. The one word that would describe him to perfection, would be disheveled.
#FF0000 ">¶
Tremendously bored, and quite agitated, Russo demanded “Can we hurry it up? I haven’t got#FF0000 ">ten all day, you know.”
#FF0000 ">¶
“Why, yes of course Mr. Russo-- Ah, here we are!” They reached a door that adorned a number pad. Blake punched in some digits, and voila! At once, the door swung open noiselessly, and in they went. They were at the Lab and Russo was on the brink of an anxiety attack.
#FF0000 ">¶
The latest project, involved Liquid Nitrogen. The element #FF0000 ">was one of the coldest elements known to man, boiling at, -196 Degree Celsius. What Vladimir had thought of (in one of his ever-so-random brain storms), was that he ought to invent a machine that could inject the element into the core of the reactor, at Fukuoka for the cooling process, so that the world#FF0000 ">, wouldn’t explode.
He would negotiate with the Japanese, for his idea, and walk away with a fortune. The only issue was that if it was directly injected, it would freeze the core, and probably cause the explosion to occur#FF0000 "> prematurely. He tackled this too. Effectively.
#FF0000 ">¶
He proposed that, a dome ought to enclose the site, made of a specific type of processed Diamond. Then, he could use the Dome as a water (Or nitrogen) Jacket, inject the ‘LN₂’(as it is commonly known) and they would walk away with bigger, heavier pockets.
#FF0000 ">¶
That #FF0000 ">was why today was so important. Today, they would run a test, to see if the Diamond could trap the cool of the Liquid Nitrogen, but only to a certain, calculated degree.