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B e t r a y e d :

Through the Eyes of a Traitor

They would have been all right had they not gone into the back hallway. He knew that. Had probably known that before any of this started. Now everybody was in deep. And it was his fault. All these people could die and never know it was because of him.

At the present time he sat on the top of just another of the tall buildings in San Francisco, looking down upon the rest of the world. Watching the cops, his fellow officers, moving in to make the bust. Only a few moments more and they would know that they had been betrayed, that there had been a leak in the department, would realize that it was somebody on the inside.

But they would never suspect him. He was too well covered. Too well protected by those who had hired him.

Looking back he almost wished that he had never agreed to this job. People were going to die here tonight. People he knew, friends even. And they would never know. But it was too late now; he could never hope to back out without losing his own life in the process.

He glanced back down to the people below. It was almost time. Just a few more seconds until they opened the door and everything unraveled right before his eyes. They would never know. That thought he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. But it was too late now. They were opening the door. He couldn't stop them if he wanted to.

He watched the scene unfold in silence. Bullets flew over the street. Several men in front went down. His boss, Bridges, he saw the look of confusion cross his face for less than a second before he took control once again. Most men would never have seen his expression had they not been looking for it, as he had. Dominguez took cover behind a crate as he tried to advance through the hazy streets. Bridges was knocked to the ground as a bullet grazed him above his left eye. Wiping blood from his face he ran straight back into the action.

He noticed Dominguez glance over toward his friend with concern, but was soon forced to turn back to the battle at hand. He himself was reminded of his situation as a bullet made its way through the crate he had formerly been taking cover behind.

Another cop went down. A terrorist falls, dead before he hit the ground. Leek had taken that one out, he noticed. Leek was a good shot, he was experienced, but not like some. Bridges rolled behind an old station wagon, dodging another round of bullets. But he wasn't quite quick enough and a lone bullet hit him in the leg. Leek took one in the shoulder.

Two more cops go down. A rookie. Another terrorist fell. Both sides were holding their ground, but it was obvious that the terrorists were going to win out in the end. There were just too many of them. They had known ahead of time.

Dominguez ran past the next few guys, leaving a barrage of bullets behind as he pushed through. Bridges was leaned up against the far wall, he took out three more terrorists. He knew they had to back out of this bust. They couldn't afford any more casualties. He signaled to his men. They began to pull out. They had, in fact, been trying to pull out for some time now, but they were too well covered by the terrorists. Maybe now they had some room to move.

The terrorists were going to leave their mark. They knew they had won. They let them leave. Bridges took down another terrorist. Dominguez took down one more. Bridges was limping badly and Dominguez helped him duck out, both covering the others' back.

Slowly but surely, the two groups separated, leaving behind nothing but blood and death. It was a war zone out there. And this was a day that would not be soon forgotten by police nor terrorist alike.

And certainly not by the one man who could have prevented it all.