April 11, 1974

Chapter 1

The Costa Rican jungle surrounded me. The sky was darkened by the somberness of dark clouds and rain. Behind me was a fort, in the front, a vast jungle crawling with many animals. Around the jungle you could here the the calls of birds, the croaks of tree frogs, the purr of leopards, and hear the flapping wings of butterflies around. But the most intriguing animal of them all I think, is the snake. Camouflaging itself to hide from its prey and instantly wrapping itself around its victim, cutting off its oxygen supply and then going in for the deadly bite, instantly finishing its prey in the most effective way possible; silently and quickly.

I was sent to Costa Rica in order to find a man. I was informed the man I was to look for was sporting an Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform, had long brown hair, a green bandana wrapped around his head, and had an eye patch on his right eye. If I were to find this man I was to immediately fire upon him. Rifle in hand I went along my patrol route south towards a wire fence, which divided the fort behind me, from the depths of the jungle of Costa Rica.

I checked the jungle and heard the diverse cries of the animals, this was my 52nd time going to and from my posts. Except this time there felt as if something was disturbing the peace of the jungle, but it was probably just my imagination. During my amble I got the vibe as if there was something behind me...almost as if it was following me. Fearing the enemy's presence I turned and scanned the area. If the enemy was here he sure was being sneaky about it. I decided to let the enemy pretend I wasn't aware of his presence. It was the perfect plan, letting my prey pretend he had the best of me and then once he made his move I would already have him trapped.

As I got back to my post I looked into a puddle. Inside that puddle was a man with a small build. He had a black balaclava around his face, hiding most of his features. The only feature that could be seen was his ordinary brown eyes. On his torso the man had on a similar Olive Drab BDU of his prey with a chest harness which carried ammo, a pistol on his leg, and a knife sheathed on his back. This man happened to be me, a normal 20 year old with no other means to support himself than to join the army.

They say the best way to tell if someone is sneaking up on you is to listen for footsteps. It would be especially easy to hear footsteps from the wet grass in the jungle, but you wouldn't be able to tell when a snake is sneaking up on you. For a snake has no feet. The only way you could tell if a snake is sneaking up behind you is to listen for its hiss.

And a hiss is exactly what I heard. Taking immediate action I snapped my head in the direction of the hiss aiming my weapon. A man with an Olive Drab BDU, long brown hair, a green headband, and an eyepatch stood in the scope of my gun. My finger was about to pull the trigger but the man with the eyepatch brought his hand down upon my weapon, and threw a jab to the side of my face and then used his arm's momentum to elbow me in the same spot, sending the direction of my head to the opposite side. In what appeared to be instantly I felt my legs being kicked down from under me.

As I was falling I curled my body into a ball and used the momentum from the fall to execute a backwards roll. Once I was back on my feet I drew my pistol and charged at the man. The man in the eye patch used some kind of judo to restrain my arms and then he threw me to the ground. I was about to shoot him on the ground but as I hit the trigger, I noticed when he threw me the eye patched man dismantled my gun in the process.

I unsheathed my blade and held it as an assassin would. This time I waited for the snake to strike. As he took a quick step forward I lunged at his face with the blade. The eye patched man swiftly evaded my slash by ducking, but I used this to my advantage by allowing gravity to add to my force by slashing downward. The eye patched man moved his head out of the way but I was a bit to fast for him. My knife sank right into his shoulder. The eye patched man cursed then grabbed my elbow, pulling me into some sort of judo hold which he followed up by elbowing me write into my temple. After this strike my vision blackened.

Although he was my prey, the man had an almost overwhelming charisma radiating from him; showing determination, strength, wisdom, and leadership. Although we spoke no words to each other, this is what I could feel when we fought.

When I came to, the first thing I heard was the roar of a helicopter's blades. I could feel restriction on my body parts. As I moved my head down, I noticed I had a stray jacket on. As I looked up I saw a man with slicked back, long, blonde hair. He was sporting aviators and an Olive Drab BDU.

"Sorry about the jacket, some of the ones we capture are a bit more hostile than the others." said the odd man with the aviators. I only grunted in reply. "My name is McDonell Benedict Miller. Welcome to Militaires Sans Frontieres, or soldiers without borders." he said. I felt chopper lower itself on what appeared to be a collection of platforms above the ocean.

The odd aviator man who went by McDonell Miller started undoing my stray jacket as the chopper landed. He explained "MSF is a new kind of organization where we recruit many different soldiers that Boss picks out on the battlefield. You my friend, are on of the soldiers Boss has found hidden potential in. Although you may want to go back to your country I suggest that you stay for the mealtime speech Boss will give that will shed some more light on what MSF actually is. In the meantime I suggest you take a look around and explore the base. There will be an announcement when mealtime is beginning. The mess hall is located right there" said Miller as he pointed to a building with a logo of a fork and spoon above the door.

McDonell Miller had a certain vibe of ignorance and cockiness. Many people find these traits aggravating, but I think it was what made the man interesting. I did as Miller said and looked around the platforms above the ocean that he called a base. The first thing I noticed was that there were separate platforms for each section. The platform I was on was the Mess Hall platform. The one next to it was where Research & Development took place. The platform parallel to the R&D platform I found out was where they trained soldiers or the "Combat Unit." There were other platforms as well but I was interrupted by a loudspeaker before I could explore further.

"Mealtime is ready! Everybody head to the mess hall!" shouted Miller through the loudspeaker.

As I took a seat in the Mess Hall, the eye patched man the other soldiers referred to as "Boss" stepped forward for all the members of MSF to see. As he stepped forward all the occupants of the mess hall cheered and clapped. You would think one would be happy to have an audience cheer for you, but not the eye patched man. He hid his feelings of betrayal, pain, and grimness under the mask of a smile.

The man known as "Boss" spoke with a rather rough, deep voice that sounded like a smokers voice. "As you all know, we have recruited many new units today" said the eye patched man "Militaires Sans Frontieres is a war business where every unit gets equal share of profit. To all new recruits that wish to stay with us at MSF you no longer have to deal with the government treating you like play toys. But in order to join you'll have to leave your old life and your country behind. Make a new start, with a new code name, and a new cause to fight for: Freedom." He paused a moment so that the audience would cease their ruckus of cheering and clapping. He continued "Now all of you enjoy your meal and the new recruits come to the middle platform after meal time so you can be placed onto your assigned team."

Most people would take a bullet for their country, others will take a bullet for their loved ones, and others will take a bullet for their beliefs. It would be foolish to give up the three things that make up a person: their country, their loved ones, and their beliefs. Yet here were hundreds of them giving them up on the spot. For what? Defying their government? No. To become better in their fields? No.

To become wealthy? No. They do it for a man. Not a man, a legend. This legend is two words:

Big Boss