David walked calmly in the midst of his guards. They had led him through the small path between the Transport and the building. He studied them without looking. Armed to the teeth, All baring automatic weapons, the old M16 if he saw correctly.  Pistols holstered in belts, two for every man. Several of them had knives, a tradition even he knew, the comfort of carrying cold steel. He looked up and froze. "No..." He said in a shocked whisper. "It's not possible!" He couldn't be back in that hole, the middle east had happened months ago. But surely, he was here. He stole another glance sideways at the soldiers. One of them was gesturing strangely, waving the gun above his head, and David swallowed. He wouldn't do it again, he couldn't go back.<br/><br/>"No!" He cried,  sending a sharp kick into the  knee of one soldier, grabbing the knife from ones belt and bringing it to slash across the neck of another. Even as the man fell, his throat spewing blood, David Grabbed his pistol, bringing it up to bare, emptying it into the heart of two other men. They had not expected him to attack, so he had. With three down, six were left standing. He threw the knife, burying it into the forehead of the one farthest away. The man dropped with scarcely a cry<em>"4"</em>said a little voice in his head. that meant five to go. He dropped into a roll, grabbing the automatic of one from the ground, taking his knee and Spraying fire into the remaining five. they all stagered, taking a knee in pain.  A Mercy shot from one of the unused Pistols send them all dreaming. Slowly, he picked up the bodies one by one and carred them fireman style to the transport. After it had all been gathered, he began the task of stripping off uniforms, gathering the valuables and suiting up in a fresh set of Greens. Now, it was time to go rescue the other Prisoners they may have taken.