Been thinking.

Rae's set up as comfortably as I could get her to be.  Wouldn't let me take her to the hospital, she started freaking out about rattraps or something.  So, we're in a hotel, and she's sort of just staring at the wall.  Isn't talking much, but she can stand now, and she follows me.  It's kind of like having a mute, knife happy, grumpy masked dog.

So.  We're safe.  As safe as one can be in this situation.  (think I've used that line a million times, remind me to change it up)  And everything's quiet, nothing trying to kill us for once.  It's a nice change.  Except...Well.  Let me explain.

You might've noticed that I, well, move around a lot.  Not just like, from place to place and such, but I mean that most of the time, I'm posting about something I was doing, a place I was breaking into, a person I was fighting.  That's cause I try to stay in motion for as long as I can.  It's where I feel more comfortable, out there, DOING stuff, y'know? 

Cause...when it's like this, slow, quiet...That's when you start thinking.  I mean, before you get the easy joke in, yes, I always THINK, even when I'm on...guess you could call em "missions."  Sure, why not, life's already enough like a video game, we're calling them missions from now!  (though given the usual reaction to my antics, the rating system for the missions must be the one from Sonic Adventure 2, where doing anything that falls short of curing cancer and bringing about the Second Coming nets you the lowest grade)

Usually it's just stuff like "okay what now, which way, oh shit it's a person, oh shit they're attacking me, punch punch kick okay if I go for his groin right now that should be it, now to the left, now to the right, gotta remember to check if Legend of Korra is out," stuff like that.  Here...this is the kind of thinking I hate.  That's right, you guessed it- we're getting philosophical.

maybe it's first the best.  cause this is the sort of thing I can't really run away from, and still call myself, well, a decent person.  And that's this: I fight proxies, monsters, anyone who tries hurting the innocent.  And it's hardly the most black and white situation ever, they're brainwashed, for the most part.  And against the guys who aren't brainwashed, who are just bastards, I curse em out for what they do and swear to kick their asses.

The thing is though...I hurt people.  I do it a lot.  Anyone who comes after me usually gets hurt pretty bad.  And that's another thing, one that really scares me.  I've gotten good at it.  About a year ago I ran my ass away when that idiot Ridley was chasing me.  And now, just last month I fought FBI agents and made it out in one piece.  All the moving about's kept me in shape, and experience has made me a much better fighter.  So, I'm good at hurting people.

I don't think I want to be.  I know that, like...enough people are already rolling their eyes at me for taking a stance against killing, so, this is going to give them heart attacks, but, can I call myself any different from them if I'm hurting them just as bad as they hurt others?  Even if it is to protect another...Isn't that resorting to their tactics, sinking to their level?

I hadn't thought about it.  But the truth is, I have a...good god, kill me now, this is going to sound melodramatic, but I can't think of any other way to phrase it.  I have a dark side.  You saw when I put up the Walker Alpha mission, when I saw what they'd done to Rae and...I hurt those guys pretty bad.  I...didn't mention it in the last post, out of shame, but...I cut one of those guys holding me with a knife for a few seconds.  I mean I was stabbing him and...Well, he didn't die, but on my way out, I saw them bandaging his wounds.  They were bad.  I know I must've stopped because of the urgency to get Rae out, but if that hadn't been the case...

Would I have killed him?  I don't think I can answer that either way.  And that really scares me.

We don't live in a world where our problems can be solved peacefully every last time.  I know that damn well by now.  Just...if we keep fighting HIM, if we treat this like it's a war, aren't we just mirroring him?  Suffering is suffering, and a life is a life no matter how that life is spent.

Dad would've found another way.  He did find another way.  He left.  Maybe it didn't work in the end, but...I could never be half the man he was.  The sort of man who probably never raised a hand against another person until that day in the junkyard.

now do you see why I like to move so much?  I'm not a very nice person.  Especially not to myself.