Amir loves jogging at the crack of dawn, especially in the cold weather. It gave him an excuse to wear his trademark black beanie, jogging bottoms and black sweater out in public without having the need for a valid reason, to his fashion offences. Luckily today, he wore presentable colours.

The village itself was nearly a town, though not quite. It was split into two obvious sections by a single main road running down directly up the middle. The high street ? as it was known to these residents, are where the various shop keepers await for the usual morning rush of customers. From a barber shop, to a caf?, to a bakery, to a butchery right to a vegetable, fish and meat market, and god knows what else. This place had it all. Amir even ran into a curious little corner shop selling little carved wooden figurines, and so bought a few for the guys back at agency, as mere mementos to his easy job (mostly to show off).

The location was rather remote, surrounded by a thick dense forest that held the usual bandits and the riffraff harassing the travellers that head towards the only town for miles on end. The villager?s pockets survive simply on those voyagers and trade caravans passing through. It probably had a population of no more than two hundred people, thus, creating a tightly knit community where everyone knew everyone.

He noticed this as he jogged. People greeted each other warmly, with smiles and friendly words, like they were all one big happy family? Amir was starting to like it here, and debated on actually settling down in this very place for when he got old and unable to work. He could buy a bit of land, buy some cattle? Start a family?

A family?

He laughed that one off as he stopped in front of the tavern of his current residence, and shouldered the door open as he swiped the beanie off of his head, the steam curling from his head to prove just how cold it was.

The Inn was full. Probably with strangers rather than the busy village-folk that lived here. As he passed the bar, he gave a wink to the owner?s daughter.

That meant he wanted her to come up later. It was their shared secret signal. She giggled and blushed, looking down at her hand wiping furiously at the bar top as to try and push aside the saucy thoughts springing into her mind. Like hell that worked! Amir knew he was too good looking to push aside that easily.

Content of her discomfort, he disappeared up the stairs situated at the back of the Inn, and returned to his room.

Last night was the official hunt. Amir tracked down those bastards and took a few out with some headshots, and nearly got discovered and gunned down in the process. He hoped it was enough to scare them off from this village, but hoped they had not followed him back to the village.

The terrorists (as Amir liked to call them) so-called ?protection? was nothing more than a sick and twisted farce. What kind of protection did they offer, you ask?

They killed five people ? two of which were women, just to give an example on what could possibly happen if people like them came along and terrorized their once peaceful lives? Protection money? Slaughter money, more like? He hated Alain for giving him this job, in that respect.
But deep down, as the day drew on and he thought about it all the more; lying reflective on his bed, the more Amir thanked Alain. He could help these people rid of this scum. Scum like them deserve to be killed at birth, he believed.

Later that day? When he thought that life could only get better for these people? That he had scared them off.

It backfired.

?I can?t take the shot?? Amir had the man?s head in his scope, dead centre! Just one pull of the trigger; that?s all it would take, just one little pull? And she?d be safe?

But why was his finger trembling? He could hit her with this kind of unprofessional composure if he wasn?t careful! He couldn?t go out there and gun these men down face to face, he may jeopardize the fact he was sent to protect these people; that they may recognise him from the night before, and kill even more innocents to make him throw down his arms.

It?s a hostage situation, Amir. Remember, they only want her alive to get something out of the villagers ? never mind they just shot someone, no. That is what you call a scare tactic, to make the villagers listen to your demands by silencing the life of another. Probably to weed out Amir from hiding?

What were they saying?! He?s starting to wish he had one of those rifle microphones so that he could hear them through the glass windows and wooden walls. He wasn?t sure, but it could not bode well for him or anyone else for that matter.

?I have to take the shot.? He decided ? resolute on the idea without thinking clearly.

?I can take two of them down. No problem? I can take two down once I drop this one, then the others might just run for it if they see how quickly their comrades had dropped...? He pressed the butt of the PSG-1 tighter against his shoulder, reaffirming his grip and steadying the crosshairs on the gun man?s forehead.

But what if they make a show? What if they start firing their guns with all those people around? So many deaths would then be on his hands and he?s not going to let that happen again. He can make a difference? Can he save their lives from these bastards?

?Maybe if I call Alain??

He won?t get here in time! The conversation ? it?s starting to get heated, that young waitress girl is crying ? what?s her name, Amir? Don?t you remember? You?ve made love to her several times, told her you loved her.

That gun against her head; Amir could see the girl?s neck tilting to the pressure of her death pressed point blank against her temple; oh god!

?Oh God, no? No, don?t? She?s only a young woman, so much to live for? You must have some inch of humanity left in you, please? Don?t shoot, her?? He grunted behind clenched teeth, his anger rising as his face turned bright red. The gravity of the situation hitting the sharpshooter hard, ?Not in front of these people? Please, God don?t let this happen??

In slow motion before Amir?s very scope the girl?s body seized and her head snapped away from the barrel, as the flash from the barrel stopped Amir?s heart. The thundering crack and roar of the bullet dull against his mind that could no longer feel or hear in those long few seconds.

The sight of blood scattering against the ground blurred as tears flooded his handsome eyes.

?No?? The men were leaving, hitting people as they left ? smiling! They were smiling! They got their point across? Amir was left stunned. The weight of his gun too heavy to bare, so the barrel was slowly lowered from the window, ?No??

But he quickly broke out of all reason ? he didn?t care about the job anymore.

He dropped his gun; luckily he had left safety on so it didn?t go off accidentally, and dashed out of his room, skidded down the corridor and practically jumped and stumbled down the stairs.

The inn?s commons had been emptied as he arrived, the frightened screams and groans of men outside sending him thundering at full pace towards the front door, knocking chairs over and bumping into tables as more and more tears hindered his sight.

Amir flew outside as the door practically flew off the hinges, and shoved the people he protected aside, bringing his anger down on all around when they got in the way with a few jabs to the faces with clenched white knuckled fists.

They had circled her body ? like vultures picking at the dead!

He fought through the crowd until he entered the quiet eye of the commotion, and the two dead bodies ? where there was only one he was shedding tears for.

The fact that the building across the street was burning to the ground was beyond his worldly concern. Even his life didn?t matter anymore.

The sharpshooter slowed before the body that was tossed awkward by the shot of the gun, and he dropped to his knees and then onto his hands, kneeling over the girl?s body and her wide, staring eyes looking up at him.

As if asking why?

?Why didn?t you save me??

A violently trembling hand touched her still warm, rosy red cheek, his thumb brushing over the entry hole that burned deep into her temple, the exit wound on the other side of the skull. ?I? I didn?t even know her name?? Amir whispered in choked sobs, ?I? I didn?t? Know her name??

Overcome by grief, he pushed his forehead into the pool of blood forming beside her, threw his head back and screamed at the sky until his lungs drew empty.

Alain pushes his way into the Division armory - he doesn't hesitate even a moment, just says, "Amir's in trouble."

Frank looks up from a disassembled SCAR- he was relaxing. It's the first time in a week or so he'd been able to get at the shipment they... acquired. "Who?"

"Our sniper - the one posted out in Tervilla, the undercover assignment." Alain's discussed this particular contract with Frank before. "Something's gone wrong. I think the bandits attacked the village, and Amir's had some kind of breakdown."

Frank lights a cigarette. "Okay. What're we gonna do about it?"

"I'm sending you out there with a small team to extract him within forty-eight hours. That village is probably doomed now, and if he stays out there, he'll be killed."

?Fuck." Frank slaps together one of the nearby SCARS almost as an after thought, "When do I leave, who're you sending with me, and what about the village?" Frank draws about half of his cig after he gets done with the small slew of questions.

He shakes his head about the village. "Amir's safety is your top priority." He steps into the armory to start picking through the weapons, and sets aside a few boxes of ammunition. "Ren's on assignment, and so are me and Cassie - you'll have to take Marshall. He's old, but he's up to it." He looks up. "You need to be out of RhyDin by sunrise." He digs into his back pocket and hands over a map. "Primary and secondary extraction points - I've marked them, along with meeting times. 0600 and 0700."

He picks up a duffel bag. From the clink and rattle, it's probably Frank's typical array of weaponry. He snags the newly assembled SCAR and the map, "I'll leave ASAP. Who else have you informed?" He throws the gear in the back of the Wrangler and unfurls the map onto the gate of the jeep, studying it intently. "And what's the threat?" He asks, finally. Amir, he remembered, was a good man, a good sniper.

"No one. Marshall's at the O'Connell Ranch just outside of town." He frowns at the question of threat, staring down at the map for a minute. He pulls out a pencil and circles an area. "The bandits are known to operate the most in this sector... but they regularly patrol the roads here, here, and here," marking x's on the indicated roads. "As many as fifty in number, few to none with formal military background, assorted semi-automatic small arms..." His frown deepens further, shaking his head. "...I don't know how much good Amir will do you. He says he wants to stay and fight - but I'll go out on a limb here and call that suicide."

He steps back from the map, rubbing at his jaw. "Sometimes, Frank, the bad guys do win. I'm not sure Amir knows that right now."

Frank eyes the map, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, smearing gun-grease. He doesn't seem to notice. "Don't gotta tell me that, Alain. Don't worry, I'll keep the kid in line." He watches the map as if he expects it to move, and listens to something only he can here. "Hmmm," he mutters, snapping himself from his own reverie. "Bandits," he smirks. "Like something out of an old western," he mutters. But the moment passes, and he turns to Alain. "Don't worry, I'll get the kid back. Go work your magic, boss. Marshal n' me'll have him back before you even know we're gone."

Alain tries to smile at Frank, but finds he can't. When the old soldier turns, the detective's offering him a wooden crate - grenades and various other things that go boom. "Take this - just in case."

Frank's gut instinct is to smile like a kid in a candy store. Instead he quirks an eyebrow at his boss, a twinkle in his eye. "These are necessary for an extraction, because...?"

"This is in case everything that can go wrong, does go wrong." He sets it on the gate of the jeep, and turns his attention to the autocannon. "How many rounds do you have for that thing?"

"More than it can fire, unfortunately. The mechanism's shot. I'd give it maybe a couple hundred rounds before it goes for good. It's mostly for show." He pauses, eyeing his boss. "Just bandits, huh?" There was enough here to fight a small army. Maybe two small armies. Double that with Frank around.

"The mass-murdering kind." He goes over in his head what's in Frank's normal gear, and what else they've packed up so far. "That's as much weaponry as you could foreseeably make use of in the worst of situations..." He starts to hold out his hand to the man, but turns it into a point. "You take care of yourself out there. I expect you back in one piece."

Frank's face hardens a little at the mention of mass murder. A corner of his mouth twitches oddly upwards as he eyes the stockpile in his jeep, but it fades as he turns his best look of innocent competence on his boss. "What, you don't trust me?"

That makes him grin. "Don't make me answer that, soldier."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." Frank gives Alain a salute before closing the hatch and hopping into the Jeep.