Lie to Live
I am standing over a still form. I stare down at it blankly. How many times have I done this before? How many times will I have to again? I do not know.
The RECCOM woman is saying something in my ear. I block her out. I have heard everything from her already.
I get down on my steel gray and yellow knee guards. I turn over the familiar body easily. I take in the bloody stains on the once-flawless metal. I suppress a sigh and set the dead Freelancer's armour to self-destruct. I numbly notice the AI is gone again. I stand and turn my back on my fallen brother. I am gone before the explosion rocks the still battle ground.
My name is Agent Washington, callsign: Recovery One. I have died many times.
The first time I died was with Connecticut. The girl behind the brown armour and defiant eyes. The girl I grew too close to. When she turned traitor, the only outcome was ever going to be to remove her blemish from the Project's face. I died the death of changing loyalties.
The next time I died was with Epsilon. My Artificial Intelligence was tortured by all the horrifying things he had seen. He had been kind and had a comforting blue glow when we first met. I felt the fractures in him and tried my best to hold us together. Our fear shattered us. I died the death of memories better left forgotten in the ashes.
The third death was with Carolina. The fierce and fiery poster child of Project Freelancer was thrown from a cliff for her two AI. I had always looked up to her and, in the wake of Epsilon and the Project's staggering fall, I was left without my fearless leader. I died the death of bitter betrayal.
My fourth death was with Maine. He was my friend from early in the program and long time team partner who was taken over by his AI, Sigma. Sigma was incompatible with Maine and they corrupted each other. I died the death of all-consuming ambition.
The next time was with Florida. The kind and soft-spoken man had been killed under dubious circumstances that no one person seemed to be able to readily explain. One day he was there, the next he simply was not. I died the death of obscurity.
I died next with York. My best friend and class clown was gunned down by an old teammate on his blind side. Delta, his AI, had been powerless to stop him from slipping away. I rigged his armour to destroy itself afterwards. I rubbed all traces of the kind man out personally. I died the death of fighting a coward.
The death after that was with North. He had been patient with his impulsive and tempermental sister all his life. Theta, the AI paired with North was timid and thrived under North's protection. South compromised her older twin in a firefight and watched coldly as he was killed and Theta was taken by a monster. I died the death of undeserved trust.
My eighth death was with South. She was a worthy adversary and my old teammate, even after North's cruel end. She stabbed me in the back in more ways than one and nearly gave Delta to the thing that killed her brother. I ended her miserable life myself, stifling any remorse I had once felt. I died the death of vengeance.
I died again with the Meta. The mangled remains of Maine driven by Sigma threatened not only me, but my friends as well. I watched as it tried to drag one of the Simulation Troopers over a cliff with it. That final act of malice hardened me against the victory. I died the death of good triumphing over bad.
The tenth time I died my own death. Epsilon went after his Beta double in the AI capture unit and I was supposed to return to the UNSC Detention Facility. The Sim Troops helped me fake an end and took me in. I died the death of protection.
The most recent time was with the Director. Leonard L. Church, the cause of so much suffering, locked away to watch his final moments with his beloved Allison. Carolina and Epsilon left his facility grim and quiet. I died the death of long standing defeat.
Eleven deaths. Some would call it impressive to have looked into the very face of destruction so often and yet be able to walk away after. I just think it is tiring. I have seen too much devastation. However, these are only my deaths. There are countless more connected to me that I will never know the exact details of. There are those that I can never claim as mine. I do not envy anyone else their deaths.
I still have one final death. It will be mine alone, no one else's. It will be the death of someone who is well-acquainted with the ultimate end of a life. I will die the death of acceptance.
My name is Agent Washington, callsign: Recovery One. Known to some as Wash or David. I feel it would simply be a lie to live after having witnessed so much death.
