Nigel watched as the sun set over Manhattan; the view from the helicopter would have been pleasant under other circumstances.

People got hurt today, and it’s my fault.

The spotlights that shone on the windowless building reminded Nigel of one of many World War II movies he and his brother Ralphie would watch together. All of that seemed a lifetime ago.

“You did well, kid. Welcome to the Dark Angels,” Norris said as he gave Nigel a pat on his good shoulder.

Nigel grunted as a fresh wave of pain shot through his arm. It seemed to settle in his shoulder.

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Norris examined Nigel.

“You’ve been hit,” he said. “Take your jacket off.”

Nigel screamed as he attempted to take the garment off.

“Our physician will attend to you the moment we land.”

Nigel’s vision faded.

“Stay with me, kid.”

Norris took something out of a white plastic box, and then shoved it into Nigel’s good arm. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his system. For a moment he forgot all about the pain. Norris removed his jacket, then used the supplies in the white box to bandage the wound.

“You’re lucky, the bullet went through. I’ve stopped the bleeding for now. But you will need medical attention.”

Nigel heard the words. The combination of the adrenaline and whatever else Norris shot into him was having an effect.

It took less than an hour to get to his destination, but it felt like an eternity.

I’ll be with you soon, Jet . . . I hope!