Torn sat at one of the booths at the far end of the bar. People were celebrating, proud of their victory over the Metal Heads, and more importantly, the Baron. They weren't thinking of tomorrow. They were only thinking of right now and how they had somehow, against impossible odds, accomplished their goal.

They weren't thinking about all the casualties. All the men that had sacrificed themselves so the city could live free from a tyrant and a pressing enemy species.

Torn knew every one of their faces, every one of their names. And he would never forget them. People who had given everything they had to a dream. This movement would be nowhere without them and he was determined to never let people forget it.

For right now though, he could let them celebrate. And though he'd never bring it up on his own, he would always remember.

He acted like a hard-ass, sure, but he cared-not that he'd ever admit it. These men and women mattered to him. And that was why he could let them enjoy themselves. They deserved it.

"You gonna sulk in this corner all night, boss?"

Torn looked up to see Kas; a man nearly as old as himself with just as many scars, if not more. He was smiling, beer in hand, red bandana still secured around his neck. He was proud of it. Always had been.

"The red fox in the corner has been giving you eyes for the past hour and you've been too caught up in your own head to notice." Kas continued, taking a seat across from the soon-to-be Commander of the 'Freedom League' as Ashelin had called it.

Torn glanced over, seeing the red-head in question leaning casually against the bar, listening to what seemed to be yet another ridiculous story from Daxter.

"She wants to dance. I don't dance." He turned his gaze back to the man across from him.

Kas had always been a good man. Had a wife and kids. He'd joined up soon after the formation of the Underground. He was a man Torn could count on.

A moment of silence passed between the two of them and he sighed.

"Listen, boss, you gotta stop beating yourself. Those guys knew what they signed up for and they couldn't have died in a better way-"

"They didn't have to die at all." His voice was forceful but quiet and aimed instead towards the glass forming a ring on the table rather than the man in front of him.

Torn knew the stakes of war. He knew that death was inevitable. He'd been conditioned to accept it and move on during his years in the Guard. But this was different; these were people he'd grown to care about and even respect. The Guard consisted of numbers hidden under masks, not open and named faces.

"But just like you said in that speech, we ain't gonna forget 'em. They made a sacrifice that we have to honor. And that's that." Kas stood, placing a hand on Torn's shoulder. "So try not to think about it- at least for the night, huh?" He looked back over to Ashelin. "And give the lady a dance, would ya? Might even get you laid." He shot the older man a grin before walking back to the party.

Torn cracked a small smile. And with a sigh he rose to his feet. He would never be able to shake the memory of all the soldiers lost, but he could distract himself enough to where maybe he could accept it. But never forget.

He locked eyes with the newly appointed Governess and sighed.

Damn was he gonna regret this.