<P><B><JC>TWIST
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<P><B><JC>CHAPTER TWO: Point Blank
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<P>Dominic stared at himself in the mirror.
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<P>There he was, under that dirt and blood. Thirty three years of living. Thirteen years of fighting. And most of it might as well be going down the drain with the running water.
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<P>He paused for a moment, stared blankly at himself. It had been a while since he paid any attention to his body. Stubble was growing on his face. He smelled, and he knew it. His hands were still dirty from the last mission...
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<P>The last mission. Jesus, he thought. The airfield. Might as well be the last one of all time. His band of soldiers lacked morale completely. They had spent the last week camped together in a New York warehouse block. Oh, they all had homes, but they couldn't return to them. Couldn't face their families now. Too much on everyone's mind. They just wanted to sit. And think. And stare at themselves in the mirror. Wondering where the hell it all went.
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<P>Dom leaned over the bathroom sink, shirtless, splashing water over his face. He tried to wash the fatigue out, to get a clear thought process... they had already wasted a week sitting there. He knew they had to do something.
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<P>Hell, Dom Bishop was the closest thing to leadership his group had, and he knew it. Their commander was killed at the airfield by a bunch of UNATCO troops, himself and the rest of his group barely escaping from the docks...
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<P>He could remember the look on his commander's face. Vividly. Dom watched the bullets tear across the poor guy's chest.