Swiss Cheese

CONTENT WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS THE AFTER EFFECTS OF A SHOOT OUT.

“How do you recover from what this job takes from you?” Hetz asked, desperately trying to wipe the blood off his hands onto his pants.

“You don't recover them.” Jack said, absently kicking aside a shoe that had been ditched when the building was evacuated. “For a little while you are left like a piece of swiss cheese. Full of holes caused by the lives you have had to take because of the job. But then there are days when the job gives back. And you're left with just scars not gaping holes.” She took her helmet off to face him, letting her gun catch on the sling and drop to her side in the process. “I promise you it gives back. Just not on days like today.”