This fic was not the first idea I had for a fic, but was presumably short enough it was the first that I could actually be bothered to write. It's was first concieved a few months after the game came out, but was delayed for so long I wouldn't be surprised if a few people had forgotton he evencarried a gun.

Disclaimer: Sega's. Not mine. If it was mine, new characters wouldn't be introduced Every. Single. Game.

Looking backwards, Looking forwards.

I like guns.

They're useful. They come in handy. Especially when the fak… Sonic is being particularly annoying.

But those who know my story would probably dare to presume that I shouldn't.

When the Black Arms first started to invade, and I headed towards Westopolis (my only definite goal to collect all 7 emeralds,) I saw a Military-standard pistol, and without hesitation, used it to defeat nearby Black warriors, for the simple reason that they were trying to kill me.

Yet, even though my memory was near blank, when my gloved hand first met the cold handle of that firearm, I felt a rush of emotions that near-overwhelmed me. A large part of me wanted to immediately drop it and get the hell away from it as fast as possible, use my considerable strength to hurl it as far away from me as I could, hell, even destroy it in a blast of raw chaos energy.

Yet I didn't. At the time I told myself, that if holding a firearm caused that strong a reaction, perhaps continuing to use them would help me remember.

…There is only so long one can lie to oneself.

With my memories restored, my mind once more my own, I realised almost instantly that it was not so simple. I've never been one for self-deceit.

A side of me, a dark part of my psyche, seems to like the idea of my use of armaments. Poetic justice, if you will. A voice in the dark that cries out to me: "Humanity took her life with one of these. Now return the favour a thousand fold!"

Two people were involved in my creation. One wished me to be a saviour, to be the one to solve humanity's problems for them, while the other considered me pre-ordained as his weapon of destruction, to aid him in his war of conquest.

Throughout the Black arms incident, I was torn between the wishes of my… "parents." Even with Black Doom having met his end (then again, people once believed me finished in a similar method), I still face that choice.

Hero or villain?

Saviour or destroyer?

…I choose both.

Make no mistake; I will not, shall not save humanity from themselves. Being the human race's baby-sitter is not my destiny.

But in the memory of my late friend/sister, I shall do all that I can to safeguard those few remaining innocents.

And as for the destruction?

I suppose I can satisfy that urge by destroying a threat to the earth once in a while.

And if there isn't a threat when I feel like causing some pain…

Well, the faker heals nearly as fast as he runs.