Creativity is Overrated

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Note: This is a serious story with very specific rules

It was a dark and stormy night, like usually in Ye Olde Neo Obama and Dieter Preston was being let go by the company. "You know, we would love to keep you on our staff, but..." Jurgen Partridge wiped away a tear. "You broke the law, and now they're going to come for you

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Continuation Dream sequence!

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The Dakota desert was a blistering zest pool of heat and sand, the Kazmierczak helicopter, usually a beacon of stealth, could be heard for miles and miles away, except within a certain Oxytocin. The outside was silent as the grave, but the engine noise on the inside was almost deafening, so when Dieter took the first shot, it came as an surprise to the crew. Sand rose in the air, making the hovertank spin uncontrollable down a sand dune. Dieter took another shot, this time hitting the main cannon, rendering it completely useless.
The crew of the Oxytocin managed to regain control of the tank and stop the spinning. The upped the speed and began evasive maneuvers. Dieter begun missing. Once. Twice. And a hit, right beneath the hull, on the ground they hovered over, the force flipping the tank upside down, and upside down it stayed.
Dieter flung himself out of the Kazmierczak helicopter, after it had lowered it's altitude considerably. The sand felt burning hot as he landed in it. He clenched his jaw and refrained from shouting. He slowly got back to his feet, his assault rifle locked on the upside down tank. He was mere two hundred meters away from it and he began approaching it, when the bottom became detached and fell out. Three men emerged, all armed, and fired upon Dieter. Using his lightning reflexes, he dodged the hail of gunfire, behind a nearby dune. He was at an advantage, he thought, the Kazmierczak should blow enough sand their way to make visibility shit. But at the same time, it made it impossible for him to hear much beyond the helicopter. They could easily outflank him while he couldn't see nor hear them.
Taking a chance, he looked over the dune. They were all gone.
"Cameron, do you have visual?" Dieter said over the radio. He only got static. "Great," he thought "they have a scrambler."
Dieter slowly made his way to the tank, trying to utilize as much cover as he could, while trying to stay alert to them possibly approaching him from behind. Nothing.
He crawled into the tank, most of the electrical equipment inside of it had been totalled in the crash, except for one machine, Dieter smashed his boot into it and the voice of Cameron crackled on through the radio "...oming grenade!" An silver oval fell in from above, rolling to his feet. He tried to leap out of the tank, but he got caught in the explosion.
He flew through the air, for what felt like ages. Then the burning feeling of the sand, with the added feeling of hitting the street kicked in and blew the air out of his lungs. He could hear faint foot steps behind the sound of the helicopter propeller, and then a shadow passed over his face. Dieter pretended to be dead, while the terrorist examined him, it wasn't Brown Gordon, that much he knew. When he waved over to his terrorist buddies, Dieter leaped from the sand and shot through the terrorist's back, spraying bullets and blood all over the sand. He could see Gordon and his remaining terrorist friend.
"You fucker!" Brown Gordon shouted as he raised a rocketlauncher on his shoulder. "You killed Tony!"
Brown pulled the trigger, and the rocket shot out towards Dieter who leaped over it, emptying the remainder of his clip into Brown's ally, who sprayed blood and gots all over the sand, just before landing again. "You're coming in with me, Brown." Dieter shouted, throwing the assault rifle into the sand, and picking up his side arm, a Luger pistol.
"Do you know who you are working for, Mister Preston?" Brown Gordon asked, making no attempt to raise his hands or making any sign of resignation. "Or do you just follow orders like a good dog."
"Shut up!" Dieter shouted and felt his fist clench on his pistol.
Brown just grinned. "You have no idea do you? You think you are doing good work, but you only paint the world in more crimson."
Dieter pulled the trigger and blew Brown's brains out, all over the burning hot sand. It made sizzling noises and the smell made him nauseous. "I am making the world a better place."

NOW

Dieter woke up, alone, naked and covered in sweat. The sun's rays illuminated the smog outside his window. On most days he would reflect on man's folly and self destructive tendencies, but he felt too ill to even try.