I'm here, Aren't I?

Johnathan looked around himself. He stood in the middle of a gigantic field of green. In front of him was a stream. Behind him was a tree. To his right was a densely packed section of woods. To his left was an army.

He did a doubletake, and looked again. They were standing in formation - their uniforms looking rather dirty. Their faces haggard. Some were missing arms. Not a pleasant group.

He pulled out his communicator - a small bit of metal with a round button on the front. Above it was a speaker. He pushed it and spoke.

"You there, Max?" Brief minutes passed as he waited for a response.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, couldn’t figure out how to work the damn thing."
"You know, every passing day you continue to disappoint me." John retorted.

"Yeah, yeah. You wouldn’t believe where I am, man."

"No, I would." John looked up, and noticed that a few men were coming towards his position. "I think I’m gonna have some trouble. I’ll get back to you later."

"Spfft, just like you to -" Max’s voice was cut off as it was shoved into a very deep and dank recess of a puffy jacket. Just then, something whizzed by John’s head. He ducked, rolled, and crawled toward the stream. Before he could get there, he was grabbed by a rough arm.

"Let’s say we blow this redcoat’s head off right here and now, hey, boys?" He turned around, getting jeers and catcalls from the rest of the men.

"Nah, Sarge, he’s dressed weird. And lookit all these funny thingy’s he’s got - " The soldier said, as he rifled his way through John’s only belongings. He found the communicator, and pushed a button. Max said some inane greeting. The soldier jumped backwards, dropping the gadjet. "Woah, that deal talks!"

They gathered him up off of the ground, punched him a few times, and led him to the leader’s tent. He was ushered inside. Light was provided by for the kindness of a lone, flickering candle. A gaunt man was sitting behind a desk, a map unfurled on it’s surface. He looked oddly familiar.

"Who’re you?" He said, glancing over his visitor’s bedraggled appearance.

"I’m, er, Jonathan."

"Jonathan? What’s yer job?"

"Really, ah, sir, I don’t have one. I just, as they say, am here by the grace of the goddess of fortune. Or something like that, anyway."
"Right. Redman, Cobbler, detain him. We’ll talk to him more later."

Jonathan grimaced. From being in the brig to being detained. Life is one hardship after another. As he resignedly turned to follow his escorts, his sleeve brushed the stand that the candle sitting on. It fell to the floor, rolled over to the side of the tent, and caught it on fire. Seeing this as a good chance to make his egress, the erstwhile prisoner made his way cunningly out of the tent, watching as the two guards bumped into each other, fell down, and in doing so, blocked the immediate escape of the official inside. The top of the tent collapsed, burying those trapped inside in a blanket of heat and flame.

Jonathan walked away, whistling to himself and trying to look inconspicuous. He took out the communicator, which he had pocketed from the guard who took it as they had led him around.

"Hey, uh, I think that I just did something pretty bad, Max. If you’re there."