Moral Conviction
Personal log- First Aid
23/474-21
Begin entry…
It happened again today. We got back from another battle, this time in Germany. Thankfully, casualties were light, just a few minor dings and dents. The Decepticons were obviously not expecting us to turn out in force this time and were driven off quickly.
After the battle I was attending to Blurr's wound- a split ankle strut from when he slipped on an ice patch- when Snarl came up to me and asked why I didn't fight like the rest of the team does. Groove and Hotspot jumped in and defended me, but I know that it won't be long until someone else asks.
I wish I could explain it, but they simply don't understand. I do know how to fight; it's just that I won't be able to live with myself if I do.
Back before we, by we I mean the Protectobots and I, got re-tooled as a gestalt, I was in Basic Training, just like everyone else. And just like everyone else, I got taught how to kill, wether it be with a laser rifle, a mêlée weapon or my bare hands and feet. Heck, with my size I can get in under most mech's defences and kill him at close range.
After BT, we got sorted into specialties, and I got apprenticed to Ratchet. When I'd been in medical training for a while, all the med interns got pulled out for a target practice refresher course. I can clearly remember picking up a laser pistol, then looking at the target dummy, aiming for the head, and then knowing exactly what would happen if the dummy was a real mech and I pulled the trigger.
It was…scary.
Here I was, standing at a firing range, frozen, as I calculated exactly what damage a Type 3 Automatic Laser Pistol would do to an average sized mechanoid with a tank type transformation at a range of 80 meters. The cranial armour would crack with the first shot, causing a cascade of pain across the entire area. The second shot, if placed close enough, would drill through the already weakened armour and enter the cranial vault itself, burning approximately halfway through the CPU and neural hardware, resulting in death approximately 2.3 seconds after the second shot connected with the subject's head.
Knowing what would happen, the pain and damage and harm that I would cause if I were to attack an enemy…I couldn't, I can't live with myself, live with my conscience, knowing that I've intentionally hurt someone, and knowing exactly how much it hurt and what damage was done.
The rest of the team knows why I don't like fighting. Hotspot tries to be the understanding CO, Blades tells me to get over it. I don't think I ever will.
/End log…