Mark stood on the roof of the HQ and stared out into the world, but he saw nothing. All that flashed before his eyes were images of the creations from the lab. He still couldn't get over that first mission. He had his cool on duty, but he still felt disturbed. Now it was begining to permiate him. The idea that people were being stripped of humanity to become mindless dogs of a mad scientist and his benefactor. Despite how different they sounded it was just like the gang. You just got pulled in without a choice and then you weren't you. You were a puppet for the master.
'Damn them all...' Mark thought to himself.
He could feel the crushing pain on his throat. The one time he had finally decided to do the right thing. He paid for it. These people didn't even get a chance. Mark had subconciously pulled a sicklewing from his pocket as he thought back to that day. The boss taunted him, 'Whatcha hafta say now?'. He thought Mark couldn't reply, but he did. He replied with flurry of blades and barrage of bullets. Mark held the sicklewing careful as ever and then threw it full force. the thin metal blade flew off into the sky line and vanished. Mark sat down, and waited for it to return.