Heroist
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Recently, Great Quazard has been feeling unwell: old wounds and age were taking their toll. It started with unexpected back pain and ended with tingling in his chest. While the dictator was bedridden for an indefinite period, power in Quasardastan passed to Richard Lazenheidge.
The quick-witted assistant didn't deem it necessary to inform the ailing dictator about the invitation to the summit, so he headed there himself, receiving all the necessary authority. Ultimately, Quazard would never have agreed to leave the Temple for such an occasion.
"Move it, you damn idiots!" Richard shouted at the bulky, broad-shouldered guards in full combat gear, hurrying along the runway on the roof of the building towards the helicopter (or plane) waiting for him. The militants didn't like Quazard's assistant, but they didn't dare disobey his orders. "Let's go," the assistant ordered the pilot, trying not to show how unpleasant, disgusting, difficult, and frightening it was for him to endure flights, especially long ones. But there was no choice; Richard had a difficult speech ahead of him, not only on behalf of the dictator but also in the interests of Quasardastan's corporations, and he was not going to be late for the upcoming summit. "What the hell is this Federated Republic?" he wondered. "They've completely lost it. I hope we can agree to continue our cooperation. I hope so."
The quick-witted assistant didn't deem it necessary to inform the ailing dictator about the invitation to the summit, so he headed there himself, receiving all the necessary authority. Ultimately, Quazard would never have agreed to leave the Temple for such an occasion.
"Move it, you damn idiots!" Richard shouted at the bulky, broad-shouldered guards in full combat gear, hurrying along the runway on the roof of the building towards the helicopter (or plane) waiting for him. The militants didn't like Quazard's assistant, but they didn't dare disobey his orders. "Let's go," the assistant ordered the pilot, trying not to show how unpleasant, disgusting, difficult, and frightening it was for him to endure flights, especially long ones. But there was no choice; Richard had a difficult speech ahead of him, not only on behalf of the dictator but also in the interests of Quasardastan's corporations, and he was not going to be late for the upcoming summit. "What the hell is this Federated Republic?" he wondered. "They've completely lost it. I hope we can agree to continue our cooperation. I hope so."
Whatever
