Nothing much to say here except...

Enjoy!

500 Hours UTC

Location: West Asia, [REDACTED]

Squadron B / Assault Squad-Alpha

Objective: Secure and Capture John 'Midnight Animal'

...

John looked to the pistol in his hand, the familiar feeling of the M1911 a curse and a blessing. The killing and suffering caused by corruption... It was his chance to finally abandon the corruption in 'New' America. He was hiding in the back of the van that was driving along the east coast of Africa, nearing the port where he would hide inside of a shipment container to Asia. Surely the man didn't know exactly where, but he would just have to improvise.

"Stop the car!" The van slows down to a halt, the cargo next to him shifting a little from the inertia. John thought the security detail at the base would've let up because it was dark out. Of course the driver didn't know that he was there so he would've had no problem telling him the contents of the cargo with the exception of John. All John could hope for is that they don't check the back of the truck.

Keyword: HOPE.

As John braced himself, the sound that he hoped that he didn't need to hear came...

*Click*

The lock was now being unlocked, the impending doom signified by the sound of the lock sliding over to unlocked position. Ducking down, the double doors opened as the night breeze entered the back.

"So if I'm correct, you're not harboring any fugitives or POIs in there? Just ammunition?" The man behind the deep voice seemed detached as it sounded like he was going through the motions. The driver told him 10 crates, to which was answered with a groan. The man clambered into the back and started to kick each box, the sound of the lead shuffling around was soft but audible. After about two or so kicks, the man would move to the next box. For the entirety of the check, he would just stare down at his phone, not bothering to look around.

Thank god this man is tired of his job... After all, he IS working night-shift.

John laid hopelessly still as he waited for the check to be over. The after the man kicked the last box twice, he doubled back to kick it once more. Simply put, what you would expect if someone tried to kick while looking at their phone occurred. Put bluntly, his foot sailed past the box and slammed itself into John's balls. A grunt that had escaped from his throat caught the attention of the guard as he pulled out his pistol and pointed it towards the box.

"Come out with your hands up!" John sat there writhing yet refusing to reply.

Maybe if I lay still... He'll forgot all about me...

"I have a gun! I'll do it! So you better come out!" John sighed as he slowly hoisted himself and slid his body out from behind the box. Just about as the man approached him, gunshots were heard in the distance. The man immediately turned around only to be pistol whipped in the back of the head. The driver was in shock as he saw a well-chiseled man picking up the unconscious guard like he was a pillow and tossed him aside.

"Sorry about that... I'll just excuse myself." Running off with two guns in his holster, one of those commandeered from a lame, underpaid guard. Examining the gun, it was a low-quality Glock model, with the burst-fire option selected. War cries, screams, shouting, and crying were heard as a warped dissonance in the distance, the gunfire crescendoing with its rhythmic hammering. Closer and closer the sound of bullets being flung through the air came until it suddenly came to a halt. A soft murmur was heard before the endless thudding and crashing managed to replace the soft melody, the orchestral score ending with the sound of three shots. A wartime orchestra that John never though he would hear again... The decision was pretty simple:

Let's just tip-toe outta here...

Silent but quick, he slithered through the shadows of the forest. His training of course would do him well, but that didn't seem to be the case when a branch behind him snapped. He was most likely spotted, so he put his arms up in surrender and turned to meet his captor. There, a brown-skinned child was seen, his white hair piercing through the darkness. In his hand laid an AK-47, obviously cocked and ready. John needed to deescalate the situation. So the best course of action, since it was a kid, was to play himself off as playful. John was naturally playful and kind, so he was popular with the kids... Theoretically.

"My, isn't it a nice night out? Shouldn't you be at home-" That didn't seem to lower his guard, for it seemed to aggravate the kid. He seemed to show the common tells for when he was going to shoot. The look in his eyes and the tensing of his right shoulder told him he was going to pull the trigger, aiming at the target and preparing for recoil. Sliding his stance into a orthodox position, he lowered both his arms into a guard. For his left arm however, it came down after the right and struck the rifle out of the kid's hands. Proceeding to zone him off with a spin kick, also serving as a way to kick away the AK, he slid in and followed up with a right.

Wait. Did he just start to back up even before I kicked?

Unexpectedly, the kid had a good enough reflex to notice his sudden movement. Sadly, even with his reflexes, the sudden right straight after the kick caught him on his right temple. Teetering backwards, the kid displayed a clear lack of CQC skills. Even after being given a chance to recover, his stance was sloppy enough to be knocked over with a light shove. Luckily for the kid, it was too dark out for John to see what was in his hand. In his right hand was a blade, and he had the intent to kill the man if he needed to.

"Who are you?" The words came out way too forceful to be assertive, as it had traces of malicious intent behind it. If John's intuition was right, then this kid took down the outpost. On the other hand, the kid's intuition told him that he was dealing with someone far more dangerous than the men he killed. Even in the position he was in, John still held his playful air around him.

"Isn't it rude for you to ask my name without giving your name first?" Both were on edge, and only one was showing that they were. The kid repeated his question again, the adrenaline in his veins from before clouding his judgement. Just as John tried to flash a smile, a gleam of light reflected into his eye. As punishment for being so reactive, he received a cut on his left shoulder. It was a laceration along his shoulder, the bleeding venous in nature. It wasn't life threatening, so he was thankful that it hadn't hit an artery. Turning to meet his adversary, he brought his arms in front of him and held his stance. Within seconds, the kid jumped at him, a rookie thing to do. The blade easily slid past him as he wrapped his left hand around his shoulder, and the other on his hip. In an instant, the kid's back met his left knee. It had slammed onto it with such force, the kid puked.

"Freeze." Before even thinking of turning his back to the kid, he disarmed him by stomping on his forearm to make him release his weapon. Next, he kicked the knife lightly towards the voice.

"Now. Let's all be rational here. I'm hurt, he's hurt, and you're not. So! If you would be so kind as to-" He was silenced by the sound of an helicopter landing nearby, but that didn't hide the soft footsteps that were approaching behind him. Grabbing onto the man behind him, it gave him a chance to do something. Through the dense treeline, if he was at least 5 feet in before they started shooting, he would be safe. The fact that they probably had faster reactions than that worried him, but he would have to wing it. Tossing the man to the one with their gun presented, he entered a mad dash into the tree line. A good second later, they started shooting, but it was too late. He was in the clear and out of there, his hand the only thing preventing crimson blood providing a trail.

...

"I would've thought he'd elbow me or use me as a shield. Must've been pretty quick on his heels to ignore common sense." The man tried to justify his failure, for he knew that what transpired was because of him. The little squad of four serving under Kasper had duties that sat on both extremities, in which they suffered from being held to high standard. Luckily for him, they managed to pick up the 'scraps' the man left behind, which was the child. They knew he was the one who cleared out the outposts, most notably from reports their scouts sent. Currently, Chiquita and Kasper were inside the warehouse interrogating the child.

"Hey man, don't sweat it." The three other members of the bodyguard were male, and were currently assigned to lookout duty.

"Yeah, you could tell he was good just from the build of his body. It may not have been bodybuilder material, but it was toned enough to knock you over, and you're 82 kilograms... Without the gear." That comment alone caused him to get punched swiftly on the shoulder.

"Would you knock it off Dalton? We don't need bruises on baby Jayce's shoulders..." This time, Jayce threw the punch, to which he followed up with a retort.

"You shouldn't preach what you don't practice, Chul..." A short scoff escaped Chul's throat as he walked off towards his route near the eastern border of the outpost. Following suit, Dalton marched towards his route along the forest, which covered the western and northern borders. Since the southern border was sealed off with a four meter high concrete wall, the only thing that Jayce was assigned to was walking around the warehouse. This gave him time to think about the character they had encountered. He was obviously American, judging from his skin tone and facial structure. However, what he failed to pinpoint his skill. His skill level was obscure, the current scale for his skill being either a lucky civilian or a world-class soldier. In either case he was a threat to their operation.

"Jayce!" Kasper was calling him in, which was rare for him to do. In any case it was important, so he briskly pivoted on his heel and strolled into the warehouse. Gesturing over to the shipping crate, he led him towards the double door that was locked.

"For the time being, he is going to be locked inside this crate until I say so. He is not to be fed or interacted with. Understand?"

"Understood." With a nod, he brought Chiquita into the helicopter, flying off into the distance.

I guess I'll just watch him then.

...

"It's been several days. Think the kid's dead yet?" Chul simply shrugged, the cigarette in his mouth being a larger priority than the conversation at hand. Dalton however, was outside discussing the situation with Kasper. Currently, there was squad of American Delta Force members, consisting of 15 well-armed soldiers with M16A4s. Obviously they tried to push back their data collection, but they were 'insisting' on finding out where a 'John' was. Initially, Dalton tried to joke around by pointing to the toilet, but that prompted a brisk strike with the stock of his gun. With a bloody napkin in his nose, he radioed in the situation to Kasper, in which was responded to with a simple 'on my way.'

After Kasper spoke with the squad, he informed the four of them that they were to find the man from before. A few questions came up collectively in their heads, but they decided to ignore them. After the bodyguards were long gone into the forest, Kasper prepared himself to open the door...

That's all...

Ciao!