Chapter 1

The corn stalks induced small lacerations against his bare arms as he ran with all his might. The clear and crisp night was both his friend and his enemy. It was easier to see his pursuers but also easier to see himself. He had to keep running; he must not stop. Too much has already happened that cant be undone. Too much has already taken place that would make regret the very essence of who he is. Too much has already made him an alien in his own country.

He looked ahead and saw a clearing where their would be no cover. He quickly scanned the area and assessed all the options. The noises of the men coming after him seemed to be his all too familiar sound track of his life. He burst through the corn and quickly bolted to the left and began running along the edge of the corn field, seeking shelter in it's height. A bright search light quickly scanned over the area searching for their lost fugitive. Then a helicopter flew into the scene and began scanning the area for any sign of him. But he kept running.

How could it have gotten like this? He was supposed to be the good guy! When and where did it all go wrong? When they promised him the glory and satisfaction that would come out of protecting his own country he never thought that one day, that very country he was risking his life to protect, would eventually turn against him.

BOOM!

An explosion from his right threw him ten feet into the cornfield and rendering his senses. He tried his best to recover and continue running but he quickly stumbled and fell on his stomach. He rolled over onto his back and looked down at his abdomen. He could see a dark steady spot beginning to form through his uniform. He put a hand on it to cover it up but he knew he had to keep going; he couldn't stop! He slowly propped himself up and took a few steps forward. He could see the search light scanning the area through the billowing smoke. He had to keep going. He stepped out of the corn field and was about to continue running when he was immediately lit up with hundreds of little red dots. He froze and looked up into the eyes of his oppressor's.

A squad of about a hundred tactical agents stood frozen in place, waiting for their signal. He stood their, breathing heavily, trying to weigh his options when a single man took a step forward. With each step on the grassy plain he could sense an impending coming closer and closer. Finally, the man was close enough to hear over the sound of the helicopter. The man, obviously had some experience, lowered his assault rifle and took the last few steps forward before throwing his cigar on the ground and stomping it out.

"Well, well, well," he began. "You sure have made quite a mess of things."

The man looked him over and noticed his arm clutching his waist.

"I'm supposed to give you a present from an old admirer," he continued.

With that, the man threw a punch straight into the gut of the wounded. He fell to his knees but did not allow a single utterance to come forth. The man with the rifle waved his arm in the air and the squadron lowered their weapons.

"You see, David," he began, "sometimes you have to sacrifice one to save the rest."

"And what makes you think that one is me?"

"David, it had to be some one. And besides, you know too much. Oh, and their was that other thing..."

At this last line, the man leaned forward so he was only inches from David's face. This was the first time that David was able to see the scar that ran down from above the man's left brow down to his chin.

"Oh," began David, "I see it's healing nicely. The difference between your scars and mine is that each of mine has its own story of good that was done."

"I am going to make sure you go through as much pain as you put me through!"

"Well, then, I welcome it."

With that, the scarred man raised his assault rifle and lowered the butt of it on the front of David's head and everything.......went.........black........