All of the blood, guts, and stomach wrenching terror. Broken dates, sudden departures, drinks in the lap. Sleep deprivation. FBI surveillance on your internet traffic because of the drone thing…
And ye gods, the clean up.
All of the crap.
None of the glory.
My name is Rhys Ivar.
I’m that guy. And compared to me, that dude with the knife at the gunfight is a lucky bastard.