Travis, his Beretta now at head level for fear of being killed himself, was thinking he was running away from what was going on instead of getting closer to it when he saw them. Shadowlaw soldiers, two of them, their guns at the ready and aimed at him. Travis didn't have time to think. Only to act.

He fired at them, hitting one in the legs and the other a string across the belly. The bullets dropping them gave Travis time to take care of them for good. He stomped on their hands and arms, to stop them from fighting back, and on the legs, smashing the kneecap, to keep them from giving chase or running for help.

Travis heard yelling up ahead, and hid behind a wall. One more guard ran out, saw his fallen comrades groaning in pain, and pulled out a radio. Travis seized the oppotunity and shoved the Beretta against the guard's head, hard. It was a textbook manuever, first used in the Second World War. The gun was held tightly behind the guard's ear, giving no chance for him to react quickly enough so as not to be shot. Travis slipped a chockerhold on the guard, depriving him of air. He held the guard for five minutes before letting him go, unconcious.

Taking a closer look, Travis noted that these were no ordinary terrorists from the way they were dressed. Of course, he knew that Bison had his own personal army. However, his attention was focused on some crates he came across.