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INTRODUCTION
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Sometimes, you just have to wonder, did you make the most out of your life? Did you take every oppertunity lunged your way, and did you make your choices wisely? What small changes could have made your life change for the better, or worse?

These are questions you can't answer until your life ends. And, coincidently, mine has.

Take my word for it, being dead isn't all its cracked up to be. There's been no fluffy clouds and pearly gates to welcome me, nor any burning hell-pit to punish me. There hasn't been anything apart from this strange numb feeling that I feel all over, even on the inside. And of course, the odd dream, that creeps up on me from time to time and takes over my subconcious.

I dream about my life. I dream about all those oppertunities I passed by, the terrible choices I made, and about all those stupid desicions I made that got me where I am now. The afterlife, in limbo, six feet under, wherever the hell I am. Which doesn't seem to be THE hell, as far as I'm aware.

Sure, there are plenty of things I've done that I'm not proud of. Maybe I belong in that inferno of pain that everyone believes hell to be.

My life's been riddled with achievements, but they're not honest ones. I've got there by way of force, or the positions I found myself in weren't the most pleasent.

Commander of the Krimzon Guard, for example. Sure, I thought that position was GREAT, I loved all the power I had, the control - the ability to do whatever I damn well pleased, and be as mean as hell to anybody I didn't like the look of. And get away with it.

Another achievement, the champion city racer. Sure, it took me years to get that good, be the best of the best and all, but heck, I race MEAN. I'll push racers into pits, force them to crash into walls, bash 'em about until their engines blew. I'd put pedal to the metal and all hell would break loose on the track until I got first to the finish line.

Maybe I always won because most of my opponents were eradicated. Y'know, sent to casualty in a burst of flames described as a 'zoomer incident'. Things like that gave me such an inexplainable rush.

And, perhaps the worst of my sins, my hatred for Jak, the Dark Warrior, the 'saviour of the city'. The torture I put him through, the terrible way I treated him, and all those dreadful thoughts I ever had concerning him. The things I was planning to do to him.

Perhaps this is hell. Perhaps my punishment is to be forever guilty and be forced to reflect on my godforsaken life.

I haven't always been this way. I was young once - and when you're young, you're just as good and innocent as the next kid.

Well, until the terrible thing happened.

I don't like thinking about it. I'd much rather forget about it all, and pretend it never happened.

But I suppose I don't have a choice. It has to be told, and now's as good a time as ever...
Since I'm stuck in death for all eternity.