Did they deserve to die? My blade is weeping their warm, red blood, and I am no longer sure why I do this for them. I work for a government that seeks enlightenment for all. Do they deserve to decide who lives or dies? I don't know anymore. Am I damned for doing what they told me? Am I the true monster here, the true evil? I don't know anymore. This man, I once knew him, as a comerade. As a friend. I didn't even give him the dignity of dieing on my blade. He did not choose his fate, and he did not know what his friends were doing. They damned him, but I was the one who killed him. Preacher, he was a Shepard of the folk of Haven. I killed them. Soldiers still swarm through the ruins, soldiers that I commanded to kill and destroy these innocents. They had done nothing but helped their friends. And they were damned for it. The slain lie all around, and I don't know anymore. Book lies there, felled by bullets and bathed in the dusk and dirt of this moon that I have set ablaze. I am a monster. He coughs up a little more blood, and I leave him be. In training, they condemned mercy as a weakness. Maybe it is. But I will still let him live. But I'm not sure if it really is mercy. I just don't know anymore. And, I don't know if I ever will again.