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stories reinforced his admittedly ‘Hollywood’ impression of military snipers.  Often, he would long for the escape from the daily grind, wishing he could trade it for the ‘one shot, one kill’ mission-above-all-else mentality he felt he could still see in the depths of his father’s eyes.  When other civilians reacted with horror to the latest military engagement in whatever ‘war of the week’ was raging, John secretly felt exhilarated and sometimes even envious of the soldiers he saw in the media.
    The possibility of acting on that interest, however, came to a sudden crashing end when he went to a marine recruiting office early one summer morning.  John was immediately impressed by just how much his mindset clashed with that of the soldiers in the recruiting office.  It was like wearing a black suit with brown shoes.  They seemed so regimented and disciplined, but as they spoke, John could not tell if anything they said represented an original thought or if it was just regurgitated propaganda they were brainwashed with.  When they showed him a video of recruits in boot camp, he knew ‘actual’ military life could never match his ‘ideal’ view of military life.  He always felt he could excel in the military provided he was allowed to operate somewhat independently, in a manner that would allow him to be a ‘thinking’ soldier rather than one forced to simply followed orders unblinkingly.  This was how he envisioned the old snipers such as his father – true or not.  In his mind, they were free-thinking, somewhat autonomous entities who supported the greater military effort through their actions, but in that instant when he saw the reality of military life, he knew it could never happen for him.  He turned and walked out the door.  Directly across from the recruiting office he saw the front of Stanford University.  He started his undergraduate coursework there in the fall of that year.
     

 
    Chapter 5
    October 2, 2015
     
    Natal, Rio Grande do Norte
    Brazil
     
    There was a knock at the door, and Lin doggedly looked up from her microscope to regard the sound.  The radio chattered in the background as the announcer rattled off the details of the most recent outbreaks of violence in Brazil.  Several individuals allegedly killed a group of people thought to be suffering from influenza and the associated encephalitis after reportedly being attacked by one of the sick.  Within hours the entire neighborhood was engulfed in full-scale rioting and a contingent from the military had been deployed to control the situation.  Lin sat in stunned silence absorbing the words of the broadcast as the knock came again, this time with a bit more force.  Having been in the middle of reviewing the latest set of histology slides from her current study, she found the interruption more than a little annoying.  With a sigh she stood and wearily crossed the room to the front of the lab.
    Upon opening the door, she was surprised to see a very official-looking group of three men.  The lead man appeared to be a high-ranking military official, given all the pins and badges adorning his impeccable uniform.  The men flanking him, and standing a few steps behind, were among the most formidable individuals Lin could ever recall seeing.  Their facial features could not have been more severe had they been chiseled straight from granite.  Where did they find uniforms large enough to cover their over-muscled torsos?   Regardless of the fact that each of the men was clearly honed into a brutal weapon themselves, they each carried a very large and, to Lin, very intimidating, assault rifle.  Though she knew nothing about firearms, she had no doubt these two men were quite capable of handling the lethal weapons with deadly precision and doubted they possessed any qualms about doing so.
    “Dr. Lin San?  I’m General Montes, Special Operations Brigade, Brazilian Army.  May we come in?” asked the General, as the three