Disclaimer: *waves thanks to Swordmaster while getting off hovering platform* I think I'm in the clear now... Anyway. Following my recent prison term for copyright infringement, I now want to say that I DO NOT OWN GUNDAM WING! Hope you like it. *starts walking down the road*
A Girl and Her Dog.
An Endless Waltz Indeed. I never knew her. She meant nothing to me. A face in a crowd of many. And yet... She was the face of all the innocent people I killed. She was just a face. But she is the face that makes every completed mission a failure. I am the perfect soldier. And that means an imperfect conscience. But they couldn't kill mine fast enough. Not before I knew the truth of what I was. What I am. I know what I am. I am the destroyer of the enemies of peace. And in this role I must destroy peace. Every time I destroy an enemy, I destroy a person. I am the perfect soldier. I am lost soul in the body of a machine. The memory could not be tolerated. It must be buried. buried under a tide of completed missions. I will never care about another human being. It is not the mission. The mission is to destroy my enemies, at the price of my soul. A fitting price to pay. But was it worth the price of that girl and her dog? Was it worth an imperfect weapon? A weapon that knew what it was before it was to late? A weapon that will become ever more obsolete because of one face in a crowd?
I never knew her. She was just a face. That face is the meaning of my life. The imperfect soldier, with the imperfect soul, and an all too perfect conscience. All because of a girl and her dog that I saw too soon...
A Girl and Her Dog.
An Endless Waltz Indeed. I never knew her. She meant nothing to me. A face in a crowd of many. And yet... She was the face of all the innocent people I killed. She was just a face. But she is the face that makes every completed mission a failure. I am the perfect soldier. And that means an imperfect conscience. But they couldn't kill mine fast enough. Not before I knew the truth of what I was. What I am. I know what I am. I am the destroyer of the enemies of peace. And in this role I must destroy peace. Every time I destroy an enemy, I destroy a person. I am the perfect soldier. I am lost soul in the body of a machine. The memory could not be tolerated. It must be buried. buried under a tide of completed missions. I will never care about another human being. It is not the mission. The mission is to destroy my enemies, at the price of my soul. A fitting price to pay. But was it worth the price of that girl and her dog? Was it worth an imperfect weapon? A weapon that knew what it was before it was to late? A weapon that will become ever more obsolete because of one face in a crowd?
I never knew her. She was just a face. That face is the meaning of my life. The imperfect soldier, with the imperfect soul, and an all too perfect conscience. All because of a girl and her dog that I saw too soon...