The metal syringe sunk into his neck. The red injected into his own bloodstream, leaving the container only with a tinge of what was left. His limbs may have been immobilized, his movements limited, but pain still came. He felt blood trickle down his face. Down his nose. His eyes watered of red tears. His last sight was of the woman forcing herself against the door that had been compromised during the fight. Trying to reach him. It felt as if he stood again on the plane before the jump. What lay down this road was unknown, but he would face it—even embrace it—and come out leading the rest. He
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