<P>Dominic leaned over the railing of the warehouse rooftop, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. There were more out there. He knew there were. More of the NSF. Finding them would be easy enough. Getting them to fight again would not be. He couldn't even convince his own team to leave the building. Sure, the death of their commander didn't help. But it couldn't be changed. Especially not by sitting around. He didn't know how to get that message across.
<P>
<P>Maybe he should just give them time to let their emotions settle.
<P>
<P>Maybe he was just trying to push them too hard.
<P>
<P>He didn't know. He didn't really care, either.
<P>
<P>Whatever Hollywood tells you, whatever you see on the screen, whatever the media invents or you see in the next issue of National Enquirer magazine, there are no heroes. There are winners and there are losers. But they're all ordinary guys.
<P>
<P>Dominic was not a hero. Dominic was just a guy with a cynical view on the world.
<P>
<P>He could stare out on the city all he wanted. He could put bullets in as many heads as he wanted. He could jump around in slow motion wearing an overcoat, dodging bullets like raindrops in a storm. He could even wear a cape and give himself a stupid name.
<P>
<P>That wouldn't make him a hero. He could still die, just like everybody else.
<P>
<P>But it was his job to take a bunch of ordinary people and fight a bunch of other ordinary people for their cause. All those bureaucrats and killer suits out there were just fleshy masses called people, too. Even the augmented ones. Even JC Denton.
<P>
<P>Even JC Denton wasn't a hero. He could die just like everyone else.
<P>
<P>And he did.