After witnessing Psychí's, the general's and the colonel's wounds, I thought I had been scarred enough, I was wrong. The remains of the stacks were still left to be collected, and I would be helping. I was in for a treat, they had been hit with tactical volatile crystals, simply put, I would literally be picking up their pieces. Then, if any soul was unfortunate enough to live, I had to help them, somehow. The hell I would step into would make me reevaluate my life choices. Sure, the path to a large portion of the population's heart was fighting for the country, but I wouldn't claim a crown dead.
Neglecting my thoughts, I would be sent out into the ruin with corpse isolation units, a stasis chamber and medical equipment, all neatly packed in a bag. Leaving the ship, I had a good idea of where I was going and putting my helmet back on, I would see exactly where.
