<P>Dom raised his gun -
<P>
<P>And felt someone else's barrel press against the back of his head.
<P>
<P>"FREEZE!" the voice screamed. "PUT THE GOD DAMN GUN ON THE FLOO-" 
<P>
<P>The voice ended with a gunshot, a splatter, and a gurgle. Dominic took this signal to go ahead and shoot the guy in front of you, so he shot. Four times. The guard never had a chance. He crumpled.
<P>
<P>Dom turned around. The soldier that was behind him was a mess on the floor. Bishop glanced up the stairs. Jess stood there, the barrel of her gun emitting a wisp of smoke.
<P>
<P>She had a hurt look in her eyes. A very hurt look.
<P>
<P>Dominic looked down at the dead rookie in front of him, and once again reflected on how much he currently hated himself.
<P>
<P>Then, just as he was before - Driven by something alien, piloted, feeling like a puppet on strings, he forced himself down the corridor. Manderley stared at him in awe as Dom passed by his office. He turned to his secretary.
<P>
<P>"Janis," he said, mouth hanging slightly open. "Who, in all fiery hell, is that?" 
<P>
<P>"I don't know, sir," she said, wide-eyed.
<P>
<P><JC><B>--- --- --- ---
<P>
<P>When a coalition's four best agents are eliminated, things go wrong. Paul Denton defects. JC Denton defects. Anna Nevarre is blown up. Gunther Hermann loses his sanity. What is the coalition left with? Rookies and grunts. Security at UNATCO Headquarters had become a joke - A boy in third grade making good use of his imagination. "You can't get into my base," he would say, referring to his cardboard-box that he had scribbled "Home Base" on with a red crayon. "It's mine. Go get your own base."