Heavily breathing, sweat dripping from his face on the floor. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared. Scared of losing things he's gotten used to, a life that was as normal as it could get for him. Fear wasn’t the thing he feared, he was ready. All this preparation, everything he’s given up, it has come down to this. To fail or to succeed. That was all the possible. Nothing in between.

This was it. To kill or be killed.

A man he knew so well, yet not good at all, gave him the signal. He nodded and started walking slowly, keeping a low cover.

He aimed at the first guard. An easy target, standing completely still. Holding him in sight, for a few seconds, he felt humanity shivering through his veins. What if the man had a family, a person he loved?

No, these weren’t the thoughts he should have. In a quick and swift move, he shot the man. It was his little push that triggered everyone else. His hand that let the first domino stone fall and let everything collapse. But these weren't domino's, these were humans.

Guards fell to the ground, blood gushing from their bodies. As they walked further, he could see the desperation in their eyes. Still with that little bit of life left in them, blood still streaming out of the hole where a bullet shot through. Moving their arms, trying to catch their boots, asking for compassion, begging for their lives.

He walked by. Pass al the dead bodies. Pass all the men with life's, with families, with loved ones. Men he killed with one effort. One blink that changed lives. Not only theirs, but also his.

There was one target. And that was all that should be on his mind.

The closer he came, the more men fell down by his feet. Men he shot, men of his own. He saw men he trained with, spend 24/7 with, had learned to trust, had made his family, being killed. Some with one shot, straight through the head, figments of their brain being splattered everywhere. Some with more effort, being shot in the torso, letting the blood flow away from their bodies and seeing the pain in their eyes.

He walked on, not looking back.

You can say whatever you want, but friend or foe, when they are shot and let to see their own blood spill away, slowly seeing the life stream out of their body, they all have the same expression. How much death you have seen or how tough you might think you are, you’ll have that expression. It is everywhere the same. It is not explainable, but if you’ve seen it once, you’ll never be able to un-see it. Burned in your mind, until the day that you make that face. Until you die.

Something whispered in his ear. As he heard the voice of the man giving him orders, he nodded in himself. He knew what he had to do.

The room they stood in was empty, except for them.

He turned and aimed his gun at the other man in the room. His partner, someone he trusted with his life.

Words were spoken, but no one knows what they said.

Taking a deep breath, he shot. Eyes of shock stared back at him. The man looked at his hands, covered in red, fresh, his own blood. It dripped from his hands to the floor. For a while he looked at the increasing red stain on that one place his armor didn’t protect him. Then he looked back at the man who shot him. His friend. Tears of disbelieve started streaming down his face. The expression he had was different from what the man ever saw. But it didn’t matter. The man, now slowly bleeding to death, was doomed. He was to die. The shooter, without any pity went on. The only man alive from what was left from his team, a group of brave, strong men, that saw so much more than a human body ever could handle.

But that is the point. He lost his humanity a long time ago. Now, orders are all that should be followed.