Idem

"How'd you get a job as a reporter?" I asked her as we stood waiting to leave.

"I sort of stumbled upon it, I just happened to meet my boss, I was a writer, he needed someone, I started out as an intern of course," she replied.  She spoke fast.

"Do you like your job?"

"Yes, very much."

"That's good."

"Mmhmm...what's your name?"

"Phil, and your's?"

"Anne.  Good to meet you."

"You too."

Me and Anne and two other reporters who I was less interested in speaking to stood around while the soldiers prepared the two trucks.  We were headed into dangerous territory, lead by Captain Higgens of the 5th battalion.  I was neither a reporter or a soldier, but camera man.  I worked alone, selling footage to news companies.  I had been invited along by the Captain.  The reporters were there to get the story if the South City.  This was a war zone basically.  It was ruled by a terrorist group called The Frumentarii.  We were to get a good news story and get out before trouble struck.  The soldiers were there to make sure things went smoothly.

"Mount up!" shouted Captain Higgens.

We climbed onto the trucks.  My camera sat at my side, ready to record at a moments notice.  Anne climbed in at sat down next to me.  The two other reporters sat in the second truck behind us.  The Captain and two other soldiers and the driver were also in our truck.  The remaining soldiers were in the other truck.  We set out down the road.  The driving was smooth and easy for the first half hour of the trip, but the deeper we got into the city the more uneasy I began to feel.  I wasn't the only one, the soldier next to me gripped his gun tighter and the other soldier had a frightened look on his face.  The Captain was stoned faced, set in his mission.

Suddenly there was an explosion behind us.  The truck behind us went up in flames and the yells of the soldiers and other reporters were heard and then cut short.  A van sped up ahead of us.  The back doors opened and two men shot hooks onto our truck.  The van swerved and the hooks pulled our truck so that it spun out and flipped over.  Everything was a jumble and when we stopped rolling we were upside down.  Te hooks were still on our truck but the cables had been cut, and up ahead I saw the van parked.  Several men were approaching us, all armed with guns.  I undid my seat belt and fell to the ground.  Before I could to anything else arms reached under the truck and dragged me out.  I was hit in the head and everything went black.

I awoke what must have been hours later in a dimly lit room.  I was tied to a chair.  Next to me, also tied to chairs, were Anne and Captain Higgens.  Another hour passed and finally someone came into the room.  Several men actually walked in, dressed in black, their faces covered by wraps.

"What were you doing the South City?" asked the man in the lead.

"We were reporting," said Anne.  She was frightened, I could tell by her voice.

"Reporting what?"  the man asked.

"The situation...the life, that's all," I said.

"Why did you need soldiers for that?" the man asked.

"We were there simply to make sure the reporters got in and out safely," replied Captain Higgens.

The man nodded to the man to his right and the man grabbed the Captain and dragged him out of the room.  The leader pulled out a gun.

"Now, which one of you is going to tell me the truth about why you are here?" he said, the pistol hanging loosely at his side.

"We already told you the truth!" said Anne tears now rolling down her cheeks.

"I hate to ruin a pretty face but..." before I knew what was happening the man raised the gun and shot Anne in the head.  Blood splattered on my face.

"What did you do that for?" I shouted.

"You're next unless you tell why you were in South City."

"We told you, we were there to report the city's current conditions and maybe interview some of the people.  The soldiers were there to make sure we stayed safe."

"Well...they didn't do a very good job did they?"

The man pulled off his mask.  I gasped.  It was the soldier that had been sitting across from me, the one who had looked so frightened.  He smirked as he raised the gun and pointed it right between my eyes.

"Last chance," he said.

"What will you gain by killing me?"

"Nothing, but you'll only be an annoyance if we let you live."

"Just let me go."

"And miss out on shooting you in the head?  No thanks, killing is something I really, really enjoy.  Call me sick, but I can't help it.  So, if you aren't going to tell me anything else I think I'll shoot you now."

"Before you kill me...I just want to say, scio qui sis.  Lingua loquor."

"How?" he asked astonished

"I've studied it for years, I figured it might come in handy some day," I said, glad to buy myself some time.

"Lorem.  Me et te reservabunt."

"Malo mori."