You were my oldest friend in the world, Eddie.
By a couple of centuries!
I didn't mess with your private little army at Parsons.
I didn't break down the doors of Cabot House and give Doctor Jack the seven sessions of electroshock he gave me.
I protected your operation from the Brotherhood of Freaking Steel.
And for nearly twenty years now, you were hiding the fact that there was some sort of space alien-human hybrid with mind powers and the fountain of youth in his veins.
Eighty-three people are dead because you couldn't trust me to help you deal with things until they went completely tits-up.
Every one of your men.
Every one of the poor, weak-minded bastards that monster managed to control.
Seventeen of the Minutemen's elite troops.
And Glory.
Jesus.
Glory.
The Institute knocked it out of the park when they built her, you know?
Smart. Funny. Tough as hell. Incredible voice. Drop-dead gorgeous.
I'm not supposed to notice that in my subordinates, but good god!
And now she's gone.
They're all gone because you couldn't trust me.
If I knew what was down there, I could have sent in a swarm of Izzys instead. Can't mind-control a robot.
And you didn't even have the courtesy to stay alive long enough for me to say this to what was left of your face.
I wonder what would've happened if I'd taken your job offer all those years ago.
Couldn't have been as hard as the one I gave myself.