Death. Death was normal. Death was everywhere. But worst of all, death was accepted. Innocent, and the not so innocent people, were killed without a second thought. They were thown out of their houses, tortured or made slaves. All of this sickened Jack, but he didn't have time to think about it, he had a job to do. Jack was a sniper, but sadly, not a very good one. He had scraped through Sniper School and Military Academy with only good looks, enthusiasm, and his fathers reputation. He had only just passed his tests, hadn't done very well in training excercises and managed to single handedly destroy three ally helicopters. The only reason he had managed to get a job, and keep it, was the fact his father played a very important role in getting an alliance with another PMC, and if his son didn't do well, might leave and screw up the deal, causing a whole load of other problems. The army didn't want to give Jack an important job, as he would probably mess it up, endangering the lives of other soldiers. So they decided to give him a job patrolling a small town outside the border of Africa, where the only enemies would be mosquitos and buffalo, and managed to convince Jack it was an important part of the operation. So, armed with a Dragunov SVD, a silenced pistol, 10l of water and other basic survival gear, Jack set off for the town.
