Dylan told me Devin wouldn't be playing with us anymore and we agreed he'd get an honorable medical discharge. I vowed to turn the grass of Pineridge Park red with the blood of bad guys. He was only a kid, darn it. When I enlisted, I only sought to protect what was mine and achieve glory on the battlefield. After a few weeks, I find my purpose rooted in hatred. It seems no matter how much ground we take, the bad guys still continue fighting, prolonging this war. Part of me fears what this war is turning me into. I am beginning to understand that war demands more than just blood. It puts our very souls up for bargain. Darn these bad guys. Darn them to heck!

Dylan's morale hangs by a thread. Four out of the last five ops, he requested we play ninjas instead. Shellshock is a heck of a thing to see happening to your oldest friend. His body is stuck here so his mind tries to go somewhere else. I'm afraid a part of him will always be here, fighting this war. I hate to lose progress on the war effort, but I can't afford to lose Dylan now. So far, we've gotten by with a compromise of doing ninja stuff as part of our stealth ops against the bad guys. Not every op can be stealth-based, though. Sooner or later we will have to go in loud, like the good old days a few weeks ago.

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Until every bad guy is routed from the north parking lot to the monkey bars in the southwest, someone is gonna be here fighting this war. If not us, then the next generation or the next one after that. As long as I draw breath and as long as I can avoid getting grounded, I am committed to ending this war with me.