2: all's fair in love and journalism

pro·bi·ty
integrity and uprightness; honesty.

It was that gruff voice that belonged in a theater with a bag of popcorn and a girlfriend who'd begged to see a chick flick instead. "Welcome to hell, kid," it parroted unapologetically. Then it turned away from me and started slinging bullets down the Baghdad street at whoever was keeping us pinned behind the cement barrier. At the time I thanked God for the ample muscles tensed against M16 kickback, his absorbed expression, the reassuring roar of friendly fire. I'd never been shot at before. I'd never done any of this before in real life.

Like the girlfriend who had to suffer through all that gore, I wanted to cry. But instead my shaky hands found the trigger button on my camera, and weeks later I plastered that black bastard's face all over the internet, with an angry headline that blamed him and his military for everything.

People praised me for having the guts.