Sits in my solitary space, a quiet comfort in knowing that the end is near.
Francis
If you were given the shot to be someone great at the expense on your own identity. What kind of greatness shall triumph over your own morals?
I lay in my bed hands held close to my chest... This evanescence, something akin to destiny
I know for sure, confident in myself. No kind of greatness can triumph over this sense of duty I have residing in me.
Yet as the gun fired, I wondered whether duty was merely another name for fear. My head recoiled at the impact, the birds in the distance flew leaving me in complete peril. *
*I knew regret would soon follow
Bounty hunter, Eliminated
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Its over... (edited)