Wyatt crouched down behind the wreckage that was once a car. There were several loud explosions off in the distance but here in the middle of the square it was deathly quiet for an active war zone. A flare of gun fire caught his eye from a sniper four blocks down near one of the explosions. Wyatt lifted his M25 and aimed down the site at the sniper’s head. He held his breath and centered his target in the cross hairs. He was about to squeeze the trigger and suddenly the hair of the back of his neck stood tall as he heard the light crunch of the footstep behind him.