[u]Mindanao, Philippines, 6 years before[/u]
([i]Italics[/i] are translated from Filipino)

"[i]Miguel, you're up[/i]"

Miguel Ordornio kicked the door in, barging into the room. He shouldered his AR-15, aiming down the sights. The room was the typical lounge one would find in the Philippines. An absolute shit hole. The walls were kept together with bits of cement and sheet metal, the floor was a mix of bamboo and metal while the room itself was empty except for a single chair illuminated by a single hanging light.

The Filipino looked back at his comrades, silently gesturing that the room was clear. He  walked forwards, carefully creeping at the rim of the light. "[i]You! What are you doing here?[/i]" Miguel span to meet the voice, looking into the eyes of a man in the doorway to his right. He was aiming his gun at him. Cursing slightly, Miguel aimed at his head, only to get grazed on his shoulder. Blood seeped from the graze almost instantly, but the soldier shouldered his rifle and fired. Two in the chest, one in the head.

Miguel hissed in pain as his comrades filed in, one of them checking his wounds. He patted him on the shoulder, whispering "Just a graze." Miguel shouldered his rifle again, nudging his comrade to the doorway on his left. He acknowledged and kicked the door off it's hinges. A small fraction of a second, then gunfire erupted. 

The terrorists were ready.

The man was cut down, bleeding profusely. Miguel threw a flash bang into the room, and arrived at the doorway, firing round after round until his gun clicked. He turned, careful not to step on his comrades' corpse and looked back. 

"Independence motherfucker." Into the eyes of a man.

"[i]What the fu-?[/i]" The man slapped him in the face, grabbed Miguel's collar and threw him into the room. He blacked out.

[u]Present Day. Miguel[/u]

Miguel stared down the man's barrel, his Beretta useless in his hands. The man, claiming to be SWAT, looked familiar. Despite the obvious threat, he spoke up with a strained voice. "I am SWAT too. I-" Miguel choked up "I don't know what happened there. One moment, I'm revving up an SUV I've found in a city parking lot, next thing I know I wake up in whatever hell is place is."

He turned, making sure the shambler was still quite far away. He looked back at the man, illuminated by the fire next to him. Miguel almost recognised him instantly. "Roland Anderson? You're a SWAT commander!" He straightened almost instantly, not one to be sloppy in front of a man in the higher rankings. "I've heard of you before. D'you know Rodriguez Salinas? He says your a legend, says that he worked with you. Showed a picture of you too." Miguel glanced at the wreckage. "I'm sorry for crashing into your car sir." Miguel reddened, embarrassed in his current predicament