You had a different team, once. You came up
through the ranks, from soldier to commander.
Despite the ugly things you did, your comrades in
arms were your family. You protected each other.
Struggling to do your job without losing your soul,
you still suffered, as bit by bit, assignments grew
more dangerous, people died, and the truth of
things got to you.
Instead of going the way of your friends, you
walked away, burning bridges behind you. The
company made you a superior tactician, a fighter,
a weapon. They’re going to regret letting you
leave alive. Not that they had a choice.
Who got hurt by the one bomb you didn’t defuse in time?
Whose rival did you take down during a messy op?
Who did you save when everything went south?