The days were long and the nights were short in war; you spent most of your time in the air, flying back and forth from bases, dropping off supplies, and whatnot.   The time was around 2200 when you were flying over night to get supplies to a secret base in enemy territory when suddenly you're shot out of the air.   First, it's your left wing, then your right. The control starts spinning out of control, then you find yourself spirling down at 100 km/h.   BOOM   You grunt in pain as you try and crawl out of the wrecked plane, your heavy pilots armor not helping. Your body is weak as you feel the wet, cold grass on your skin. Your plane is completely wrecked beyond repair, and just as things could get any worse, it did.   "Put your hands up!" Yelled a man in broken English, a little red laser falling on your chest.   You were surrounded.