Dust flies outward from the stampede of boots.

Men yell words that cannot be comprehanded.

the Ak-47's strapped to their backs shine differently each step.

"Run its the opposing force!"

The filthy, callused, hands of these men revovled their guns around their body. Then they put there dirt filled finger tips on the trigger. all that can be seen is dust exploding around the end of the barrel, the sound of thunder coming from there barrels like a storm approaching; Screams can be heard like a flock of eagles to their prey. "We can no longer run from the opposing force"

The innocent screams for help and the only response they get is a mumbling unknown man over the radio saying "there will be no boots on the ground" The innocent hear the storm approaching and... silence.