I can feel the fire of revenge guiding my movements and choices. How sanctimonious of me after judging Victor for his hate of the Hordish. I’m aware of the rage, but I can’t hold it back. I see the Phalanx mechs and I just see red, thinking about the raid and the fear of losing Vuelo. I’m ashamed to admit how good it felt taking those ships down.

All I was focused on was getting that Phalanx General in custody. I didn’t care about that Union town. I even lashed out at Ryker for suggesting we double back to help them. I could feel my tongue burn from the venom in my tone when I called him “soldier” when he said we should help. I couldn’t pull rank, but I knew what to say to try and make him doubt the idea. I think I was scared about what it meant about me that the man who was always dedicated to the mission was showing more compassion. It wasn’t fair to him the way I lashed out and tried to push his idea down. But our enemies have blood on their hands. They could have hurt one of us that night. How could I risk one of their leaders escaping their deserved justice?

Strange to be on the same page as Victor throughout this all. I wonder if this constitutes as bonding?

I don’t know what the hell Phalanx have, but that thing eradicated the Union town. We tried to evacuate as many people as we could, but we didn’t get all of them. Could we have saved more if I wasn’t so focused on vengeance? Is their loss some kind of divine retribution on me for losing my humanity? It’s hard for me to stop thinking about the “what ifs”. Despite my callsign, I can’t be an academic when I’m in the field, asking questions I’ll never have the answer to. I must steel myself and act as a soldier for the sake of the mission. To do otherwise will inevitably result in a terrible fate for me or my squad.

Despite trying to instil these militaristic mantras in my psyche, I can’t help but feel the dull ache in my heart that refuses to subside every time I think about those who died. I saved everyone I could, even the Hypocritical Noble by virtue of inaction, and it still doesn’t feel like I did enough.