She was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen on this godforsaken planet. I wanted to say something, to praise her beauty with a thousand sonnets dedicated to her splendor, but I knew that would never be possible. It's not that I'm at a loss for words, I just don't have the ability to say them. You have me trapped here, back in the darkest recesses of our mind. Anything I say to you goes unheard. I am nothing but a ghost of our former self.

But I can sense you feel it too. This Siren could be the one to piece our fragmented mind back together. You claim to rejoice in your own psychosis, but we both know that's not entirely true. My mere existence proves that. So why is it so hard for you to hear me? Just befriend her. Let her get close, let her teach you how to be human again. We're miserable the way we are, and no amount of murder and rampaging will ever change that.

You're lonely. We're lonely. Psychos and bandits provide no quality interaction, and more often than not they only serve to widen the chasm that lies between us, deepening our insanity. Lately it seems that no matter how loudly I yell, all that reaches the outside world are grunts and moans at best, or shouts of nonsensical crude phrases at worst. I am losing my connection to this world, and if we don't get help soon, I'll be sure to end us before that happens. I can't leave you alone in the state we're in. Too many innocent lives would be put in danger if I weren't here to reign you in.

You did save her from those Rats however, and when she left on the train you stowed away in one of the cars. After the explosion, you followed her through the frozen wastes… rather uncharacteristic of you. Perhaps there is some hope for us after all. My words might be finally reaching you somehow, however subconsciously, or maybe you're making these decisions for yourself. Either way, try to listen closely. If you mess up now, we may never get another chance.

Just say hi. Introduce yourself. Just say our name… Our name…oh, what was it again? It has been so long. Lately you have been calling yourself Krieg, an old word from an archaic language that means 'war.' Appropriate, I suppose, considering your bloodthirsty psychosis. Still, I find it regrettable that we can no longer even remember our own name.

You're just lucky she finds your insanity charming. Had things unfolded even slightly differently at the train station, one or both of you would be riddled with bullet holes, left in the dirt as Skag food. She has recognized your capability in combat. Even more, it seems that I am not quite as invisible as I had previously reasoned. As chaotic as your speech is, somehow she can see through it. She can see me.

So whatever you do, don't mess this up. I want to be seen again, I no longer wish to be trapped within the dark confines of our slagged mind. Please, just do this for me. For us.

Still you follow her now, tracking her like a lost puppy. You think you're sneaky, but she has known that you have been there for quite some time now. What do you intend on doing if she decides to confront you about it? Start screaming some nonsense about meat? Or will you try to kill her, like you have done with so many others? I'll tell you know that if you attempt the latter, I will not hesitate to turn your attack upon us. Granted, she has killed. Plenty of people in fact. But she is not one of the Deserving, she is not a part of our code. She has no right to die by our hand. Those she fights are the selfsame ones you fight.

Now, look now. She's in trouble again, being overwhelmed by a bandit ambush. Go, help now before it's too late! She's down, bleeding out! Without intervention, our only hope for normalcy will be crushed into the dust like an insect if you don't do something.

"Bring down the skies, like the insects of the flesh!" you cry as you rush into the fray. You echo my words, however vaguely. A connection must have been made between our two psyches. Yet no one understands your shouts, least of all you I'm sure. It grabs the attention of the bandits however, just long enough for you to smash their skulls together in a surprise attack. A few more well-placed hits and swings with your buzzaxe leaves only the dead and dying around you. Including her.

You are confused, I see. You only know how to kill, not heal. Well, listen carefully to me now. If there was ever a time for you to hear this little voice in your head, now would be it. You need to stop the bleeding. Use the bindings on your arm, find a med kit, anything. Just don't let her die.

"Salt the wound!" you bellow, approaching. She eyes you suspiciously, fear shining in her glazing eyes. "Save the flesh!"

…Yes, that's it. Bandage it tightly. Stop the bleeding. Good.

Now see, she's smiling at you again. She's grateful for your help. Doesn't that feel nice? This is what we need. Already I can sense the coils of insanity loosening, however slightly. Don't lose this. Don't lose her.

After all, life is a meat bicycle built for two.