DAMIEN’S POINT OF VIEW.I waited until the ambulance stopped at the hospital, watched as doctors and nurses lifted Claire and Tim, all that’s left of one of my clubs here in Seattle, before they were wheeled inside. I waited until they got into the operating room, until I saw that the doctors had finished, and they were fully admitted, then placed in their wards.One of the attending doctors stared at me, and I could not fault him. After all, I was dressed in all black, a leather jacket on my body, with my tattoos peeking out of my neck, watching the doors to the ward where they slept like a hawk. “Sorry, may we help you?” I saw that he’d finally mustered the courage to step up to me after a battle with himself. “Are they going to be alright?” I asked, my voice still hollow. If this is what I think it is, then war has started, per usual, without a warning. The doctor adjusted his glasses, stared at the door, and then me, my clenched fists, the tattoos covering my hands, before final
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