Squall put pen to paper and began to write. What he thought would be last letter. Little did he realize that with the power of friendship, love, and determination, success was all but certain;
"In the moments following this letter, I make no promises as to what will happen to me or those around me. I feel like I no longer have control over my actions anymore. Everything I do now is based on instinct and no longer where my moral compass points. A third-party entity has taken over me and is now working its will as you read this."
~Squall~
Squall Put the pen down and stood up. He looked at his gun blade hanging on the rack across the room. It gleamed in the light coming through the only window in the room. The gleam seemed brighter than the sun itself. He slowly walked over to it and took it down, hung the strap across his chest and pulled it tight. He took one final look at his room before turning around and walking out of his room, leaving the door open behind him.
