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n2:

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Isamu

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A gust of bitter wind blows in from the north. Private Richard Chapman, of the Airborne Elite, pulls his arms tightly around himself in an attempt to shut out the chill. This cursed wind blew him off of his drop zone and now he’s been separated from the rest of his squad. Chapman scans the horizon looking to spot his allies, when a flash of red catches his eye. The soldier quickly readies his rifle and attunes his senses to his surroundings. He feels something moist hit him on the forehead; reaching up, he touches the wet spot.

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n5: n7: n8: n9:

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A gust of bitter wind blows in from the north. Private Richard Chapman, of the Airborne Elite, pulls his arms tightly around himself in an attempt to shut out the chill. This cursed wind blew him off of his drop zone and now he’s been separated from the rest of his squad. Chapman scans the horizon looking to spot his allies, when a flash of red catches his eye. The soldier quickly readies his rifle and attunes his senses to his surroundings. He feels something moist hit him on the forehead; reaching up, he touches the wet spot. “Rain...”, he mutters to himself, as it begins to poor in sheets. Lightning streaks across the sky. The soldier’s heart jumps in his chest! The black form of a masked man, illuminated by the lighting strike, stands directly in front of him, and then in the same instant disappears from sight. Chapman frantically twists his head from one direction to another, but cannot spot the figure. In his peripheral vision the soldier catches another flash of red. Cursing, he turns and fires, to no avail. Nothing is there. The long, sharp sound of metal being unsheathed is heard from behind. Quickly turning, the Private catches a glimpse of a ninja clothed in red, before all goes black.