<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FF0000">Sergeant Major Peter Wilkinson</span></span></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #FF0000">"Sarge"</span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/332a64bb-3ab5-412e-af3e-fc9a0635c4cc_zps121ef83c.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Peter Wilkinson, rank Sergeant Major, and leader of his commando group, had listened to the strange looking civilian. At least he had it right, they crashed out of some reason and they wouldn't start again. He disliked the look out of the window of the plane. Another jungle... and probably another group of terrorists out there somewhere. Grabbing his gun, he ordered his group to get ready for action. <br/><br/><span style="color: #80BF00">"Might as well try to find the pilots..."</span><br/><br/>Wilkinson was quicker than a lightning strike. Before the young lady could even grab the hand of the strange looking civilian, the hand of the Sergeant Major had gribbed the arm of the civilian and whirled him around. The index finger of the other hand poked firmly into the breast of the man.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"YOU...You are going nowhere. You may have paid for a flight, but we are on the ground now and you are in a military vehicle. Get your ass in your seat and stay there, until you hear from the pilotes. They are probably trying to check the perimeter and last what they need are some damn civilians asking about what has happened."</span><br/><br/>The soldier turned to the young, beautiful lady at the side of the civilian.<br/><span style="color: #FF8000"><br/>"Mylady, no offense meant. But until we know what we are up to, we would appreciate if the civilians stay out of our way."</span></div>