[i]Fire and death, everywhere one looked. Rebel fighters slumped against walls, blood trails glistening. Spent shell casings crunched underfoot. In the distance, a W.E.C dropship unleashed its fury against something solid - men screamed briefly and then all was quiet. 

"Please," the man pleaded, tears and snot streaming down his face. "I have a family! I wasn't with the resistance! I was their prisoner!" 

The Silencer tilted his head slightly to one side, and then raised his Pacifist Assault rifle and pointed it at the man's face. 

"No, no wait!" 

And then there was a bright flash, the Silencer felt himself pulled forwards into something, and at the same time his vision was taken by blackness.[/i]

[hr]

The room was cold and poorly lit. The Silencer looked left and right, sensing that he was not alone. 

"In the name of the World Economic Consortium, identify yourselves," he said in a neutral, almost robotic tone. 

No doubt the resistance had played some kind of trick on him, and if this was the case, he was going to tear their spines out.