It's been a s-t of a day. Started in Turkey blowing the crap out of some terrorist a-holes then I get back to the substation only to be sent out again here in Belgrade. Now I get home to find the damn shower isn't working - again.

Bath. S-t no. They're for women like my Mum who lazed around all afternoon in one, sighing like she lived in some stupid fantasy. Dad'd given her what for for it too - beat the c-p out of her one night. Stupid cow.

I gotta get the blood off. I changed when I got back in to the station but they didn't give me time to wash. It'd been a wet kill. Messy. Hate those.

F-. If I have the stupid bath I'll be soaking in the stuff.

Well I can't see any other option, so I run the bath and get in. Sure enough there's still blood on me and the water turns faintly pink. This stinks. I scrub. Only makes it worse, but hell if I'm going to leave it on me.

The local job'd been easy at least. Get the target to take out some garbage, then knife a cop and leave her with the weapon. God only knows why Section wants a street rat put away. Not my business. I do as I'm told. I stay alive.

I'll put in for a transfer to admin. I'm sick of this field crap.

I won't forget those eyes for a while though. Light coloured they were. Grey, or some pale blue or green. Confused. Terrified. I remember terrified. Terrified is when you wake up in a white room and get told you're "dead". No more street thug, "enforcing" for the likes of weasels like Rossi who was only too happy to see me go down instead of him. Now I'm an "anti-terrorist operative". Glorified street thug.

Ah, to hell with it. I'm clean enough. I'll get the rest in a shower tomorrow in Section. Baths are stupid.

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