Thursday, August 30, 2012

Blood on my hands

It's been so long since I've sullied a uniform like this. I remember the days when I could go through a coat a week like this. And when I would have to go back to base to turn in a sweaty brown mess of a coat for a clean, white uniform. Must have been only a year or two ago, but it still seems so far back. Has it really been that long since my last truly messy operation?

But this is different, isn't it? Different coat, different colors, different textures. I used to relish the feel of a well-used uniform, but this just feels disgusting and sad. I've ruined a perfectly nice uniform running around like the angel of fucking death. I need to reign myself in, this is unacceptable. This is not what I should be doing for Thomas, but if I'm going to do it, then I should do it cleanly, mercifully. But that isn't exactly an option anymore, I don't think. I've missed my last chance at a humane operation today.

There is one building left. We know where you are, you know where we've been, and what we're sitting on. We both know the odds, and we both know how this must end. No loose ends.

I'm going to get a fresh uniform, and then we will go through one last mess of a facility before turning our attention on you, Dereck.

Enjoy your last hours of life, and

- Have a Nice Day

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