Buzz. Harley Buzz.

[Harley Buzz]

   Harley Buzz has never been a very smart kid, though always was dreaming big. Big planes, big ships, big space stations, stuff like that. Probably that is why he was ruptured by two options after his below-average graduation from Ashton School in Cork: become a seaman or become a pilot. Considering financial state of his parents, who immigrated to Ireland from Ukraine back in 90th, and were unable to pay for commercial seaman education, he got right into government-funded program in University of Limerick for a 4-years course with prospects to graduate as Bachelor in aeronautical engineering with a prospect of mandatory military contract. Everybody who knew Harley considered that scholarship to be a huge failure for Irish Airforces, which seemed to be on the edge of desperation, but he did surprise them with dedication and commitment to his study.

   People wondered how big was the change after he came back waiving his Diploma with honors and shiny Lieutenant's straps after graduation at his 23. Harley is a military pilot, placed in Cork Naval base, who could expect.

   Time has passed and Harley was closest to happiness ever after he got promotion to Captain. He would be even happier, if there were actual uses for his skills, not just showing off on training flights and smoky parade maneuvers. This small gap he managed to fill with Guinness stout and weed, considerable quantities of them. That could be one of the reasons, why he never got married, but who knows for sure. As for him, he actually believed, those substances did not affect his judgement, but that was only partly truth. The only skills obviously unaffected were his abilities to cheat drug tests. If not this, everything could take different turn that morning, and he would not get in a situation with no easy way out.

   The morning, when General Wilson arrived without notice and requested 2 best pilots asap without any explanations.
Disregarding his pretty bad shape, Harley got under a cold shower in a great hurry to show off again. But he felt, this time it would be something special. And it was.

   When he arrived to the Base, everybody told him to run to the briefing room, where he found his friend, Dug, scrolling a pad with a mission and listening to General. Short look from Dug told Harley, how serious ongoing briefing is. One look at a pad confirmed that, as he seen unknown sequence of jet coding, suggesting something absolutely new. As he was listening and reading, it was identified as a newest variation of duo-piloted Lockheed's Raptor. "Alright, this we can do" — said voice in his head as an understanding of capabilities flown through. The only thing which attracted his attention on flight plan was planned ceiling test, which was indicated to be as high as 26500 meters. Harley have never been a coward and his response was appropriate, as he seen it: "Alright, this we can try". Dug was more skeptical, but General's presence held him from discussion.

   But at an altitude of about 23000 something gone absolutely wrong. Nobody will never know for sure now. Was it a failure of cockpit enclosure or water ejection system, or Harley just touched the emergency lever, but at some point he felt cracking of his own ribs reaching for lungs due to enormous air pressure, even so sparse at this altitude. Harley blacked out almost immediately hearing explosion at some distance, but regained consciousness shortly after and managed to open his 'chute, landing in the Atlantic Ocean, while observing SAR boat approaching him from afar.

   Long story short, he didn't meet expectations of military tribunal, which barred him for a lifetime for a crime he probably didn't commit, all in a 20 minutes process. Voyage recorder pulled out from the ocean stated he pulled the lever, that was the main point. General Wilson was not even there. With this sentence he did not agree and decided to escape.

   After some reckless jailbreak, involving 2 mailmen and a deer, he managed to reach his favorite bar and get wise advice there, as he always did in a recent 4 years. Few stouts and whole bar agreed, that government really should mark those emergency ejection levers more clearly on their new beautiful jets with Mach-3 capabilities, though Harley was rejecting airforce PR statement's trustworthiness. At least they should include some follow-up mechanism, which will eject your co-pilot as well, avoiding him being left for a certain death in uncontrollably falling plane, right?

   This is how he ended up in a big trouble, hiding in a big hold of that fumigated big bulker, which departed from Cork towards somewhere in South Africa and somehow ended her voyage in San Andreas.

   So yeah, he is still in that hold, writing notes under the poor light, which passes through crack in ship's hatch cover. This happy ticket he got from a barkeeper in Cork, who always ready to sell 2nd-hand information to people in need. Dream lives on disregarding circumstances and fumigation side effects. Greet me, Los Santos!