Cash sat on the cot they’d let him nap in between shots. The good news was he was feeling a lot better. The bad news was, he had a whole ‘nother round of these damn things to go. It was worse than his last hop into Africa and still had enough to beat his experience prepping for the Philippines.  They were giving him a break to let his body adjust to what they already did to him. Now if he can only stop the room from spinning long enough to get the hell up. Trying just that, he actually managed to get halfway before those dancing spots in his eyes worked their magic. With grunt, his rump touched pad, and his head slapped concrete. Wincing, he just decided to stay right where the hell he was. His babysitter, the fine young gentleman standing post beside him, said in a way that<em>almost</em>sounded like compassion “Stay down, sir. Trust me…its better that way”. Cash grunted his agreement, and concentrated on just making the world stop spinning<br/><br/>After about fifteen minutes of deep breathing, and focus-point concentration, Cash decided to try again. Pushing off the wall and leaning forward, he trusted his legs to do the rest. It almost didn’t work. With a jerky buckle, his weight fell to his right leg for the briefest of moments before his body could recover. Standing tall, he turned pointedly to his babysitter and took a walk around. It was a good thing he was heading towards the head, because a few steps later he was contributing a half digested sandwich and what he believed to be the powerade he drunk earlier…that or those meds have really screwed him righteous. The babysitter grinned and shook his head, but made sure to straighten up like he hadn’t seen a thing once Cash gave him a once over from the sink. Wiping his mouth, he stood up again and quickly realized how much better he felt. He wasn’t going to dance anytime soon, but he was sure he’d be able to walk to where he needed to be now.<br/><br/>The reflection in the mirror showed a weary, but steely-eyed African-American male that most would have guessed was still in his mid-twenties. The eyes told them different. Even when he was younger, he still had old eyes. Like he had brought a little sadness with him from another life when he was born. He looked away…looking into his own eyes sometimes nagged him. He grabbed a few paper towels to wipe off the cold sweat from his earlier contribution, and two things came into view. His left arm displayed a tattoo of a medieval-era shield, with a small Marine Corps emblem in the middle. The right arm reveals a same era broadsword, shaded even darker than his brown skin. The sword’s hilt had barbed wire wrapped around it. Outside of the USMC on the left side of his shoulder, they were the only tattoos he had. They were the only ones he needed.<br/><br/>Finally done with his temporary attempt at hygiene, Cash had long enough to get his bearings before the loudspeaker in the area blared “Unauthorized Off World Activation”. He didn’t know what the hell it meant, but judging by the look on his face like he was going to pass a midget through his rectum, the babysitter had some clue. “Mind filling me in, buddy?” Cash said with a grin. The babysitter only shook his head and barked a “Stay Here!” before leaving the aid station. Cash gave him a minute, just to be fair, and then walked out into the rush to find out what was happening.<br/>