I have several distinctions, some good, some bad, but they show who I really am.
I'm probably the only person in history to be dishonorably discharged from the U. S. Army Rangers and disbarred by the Virginia State Bar, both before my thirtieth birthday, both times for physical violence (that's all I'm going to say about the matter, except to say that I only spent a few days in jail or the guardhouse). Obviously I have what many people consider a "bad attitude." In my view my attitude is "take no shit and never back down," and I have no intention of reforming.
I was born with a near perfect physique for a combination of strength and endurance and have been tested for reflexes and reaction time -- in all ways possible -- that indicate that I'm in the top 0.01% in the world. I'm not exceptionally big (six feet one inch, 205 pounds) but given my inherent strength, endurance, reflexes, and reaction time, have never lost a fight in my life, even against multiple opponents. I also have a facility with languages; not something I developed, I was just born with it but I have cultivated it.
I, Sean Lisle, am telling you these things only to set the stage for how and why this story unfolded like it did.
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After my disbarment I was looking for a new profession although I still had hope that the attorney I had hired could get it reversed. An old client of mine, aware of my background and capabilities, recommended me for a position as a translator/bodyguard for a documentary being filmed by a news crew in an Eastern European Country which I'll call Empore where the native language is Emporian. I've used those fictional names just so I don't have to reveal the real name, which might get some people's hackles up especially if they believe what I'm about to recount in this story. I do speak Emporian if not fluently, close to it, and definitely without an American accent.
When I met the primarily American crew of the documentary I was non-plussed. They seemed to be naïve and the narrator/reporter/boss was an entitled bitch. The crew consisted of Jeremy a cameraman, Bill a sound guy, Nigel a producer (a Brit, the only non-American), and Cynthia (never "Cindy") the star reporter. All of them were married. After talking to Cynthia for less than an hour I couldn't believe that any guy would marry her despite the fact that she was fairly hot; I'd rate her a 9 on a 10 point scale. Given her obnoxious personality if she were a guy she probably would have gotten the shit beat out of her ten times a day -- including by me. However, since I never have -- nor will I ever -- hit a woman with her I'd just have to grin and bear it.
After spending some time with Cynthia and the crew despite my poor work history and bad financial situation I declined the offer. It seemed to me that they had a stupid plan and despite some assurances from the Empore government the assignment was fraught with danger. However, when they couldn't get anyone else and they raised my compensation to a ridiculously high level, including paying 25% cash in advance, I decided that it was worth the risk and pain.
The first few days in Empore weren't too bad. The government had provided some soldiers to assist with security the first couple of places that we visited. When I actually got to see Cynthia at work my attitude toward her changed a little -- both for the better and worse.
For the better, she had a real facility for getting people to open up and for choosing the right locations for filming (she was obviously very smart); and after seeing her in some of the provocative outfits that she wore I'd have to rate her looks as even higher than a 9 -- close to a 10.
For worse, she took too many risks, wouldn't listen to reason, didn't watch what she said which could be interpreted by the authoritarian Empore government as insulting, and was hard on the crew and attempted to be hard on me, although I didn't take her shit.
Despite having derisively told me on several occasions "You don't look like you're worth shit as a bodyguard Sean," Cynthia also seemed to ultimately appreciate me (although she never thanked me). Her grudging appreciation ensued because despite the small military escort I personally had to dispatch no less than five guys who were trying to do her harm or wouldn't take "no" for an answer including two guys at once in one episode. Also, she had no choice but to rely on me since more than 90% of the residents we encountered spoke no English and no one else on the crew spoke even two words of Emporian.
My fear that given how reckless Cynthia was with her language and risk taking that the shit would ultimately hit the fan came to be about a week into our sojourn into Empore. The night before I cautioned Cynthia not to ask the questions she was planning to ask a government official (who spoke English so I couldn't modify her questions when I translated) the next morning. The bitch ignored what I told her. The official was obviously insulted, the interview ended abruptly, and after that our military escort disappeared.
That afternoon, after it was clear that the military escort was not coming back, I insisted that we get to the international airport and get the hell out of Empore as soon as possible. Jeremy and Nigel were in agreement; Bill said nothing but did have a wide-eyed look about him, however Cynthia poo-poohed my concerns. I would have taken off by myself and left her to the wolves except for the fact that I wouldn't have gotten the other 75% of my pay and I liked Jeremy and Nigel (Bill, not so much) and didn't want harm to come to them.
What I did do that night, however, was to go into a bad section of town and pull a "Jack Reacher," namely I beat the shit out of a thug who tried to mug me and took his gun. Unfortunately the gun was an old East German version of the Makarov pistol and was a piece of shit; but it was better than nothing, and the thug also had an extra magazine.
We somehow got through the next day without more than one mildly concerning incident but the day after that we were confronted by four large men in dark suits with handguns conspicuously present on their person. The large men talked only in Emporian so I was the only one to converse with them. It was obvious to me that they were some version of the Empore "secret police" and were agitated because of Cynthia's interview with the government official two days before. After some preliminaries they demanded the "tape" from the interview.
Apparently technology isn't as developed in Empore as it is in the West because the video and sound were both digital and had already been transmitted back to the U S via the Internet hookup in the hotel we were staying at. Perhaps I made a mistake in telling them that, but since I couldn't produce a "tape" anyway because we didn't have anything resembling one there wasn't much else that I could do.
They got incensed when I couldn't produce a tape and said some very threatening and disturbing things and nothing that I said was having any effect on calming them down. They clearly were out for blood.
One guy pushed Cynthia down, and two others went for their guns. At that point I thought that I had no choice; I sure as hell wasn't going to land in a prison in Empore -- I'd rather be dead -- and since my reaction time was half theirs they were both dead before their guns cleared their holsters. However, two shots were all my poor, old, version of a Makarov pistol was good for before it jammed.
One of the two remaining secret police cleared his holster but when I deflected it away from me and it discharged the bullet hit Bill in the chest, wasting him. I hit that guy hard in the face twice and he went down with his gun bouncing on the pavement. The fourth guy, who had pushed Cynthia down and was ominously hovering over her, was slow to react but instead of going for his gun once he saw what was happening he charged me. Fortunately, although he outweighed me by at least 70 pounds (32kg) he was mostly a bull, and not a skilled fighter. I avoided his initial charge and then slammed his head twice into the brick building adjacent us.
