And Their Name Was Treason

[Keira Priest]

It had been awhile since Keira had been able to simply spend time with and among the men as one of their own, and she was enjoying every minute of it. Rarely were they ever allowed to live a life outside of constant drilling and preparation for war, but with the recent changes made within the Republic they all seemed a touch more relaxed and at ease with their surroundings, able to joke with each other and trade lighthearted remarks with ease. On the outside they may have been grown men and women bred and prepared for war, but truthfully they were nothing more than children brought into a galaxy they didn't understand in order to fight battles they had never had a hand in to begin with.

For a time she had joined them in their merrymaking, throwing in her own commentary and jokes while being the subject of many others. She had taken part in their contests and challenges they had liberally thrown out, besting some while allowing herself to be beaten in turn, bolstering the camaraderie between them. Their conversation slipped fluidly between Basic, Mando'a and Old Corellian, a pidgin of tongues that served to demonstrate their unique and unorthodox nature. This was a band of brothers, and that language they communicated in that would confuse many others was only one sign of that. They were family, and she was honored to be so much as considered for membership.

The twins had been brought along, and the men seemed to be fascinated with those little lives, marveling over the infants where they lay, too hesitant to touch them at first but eventually allowing their small hands to curl around their finger, exchanging looks of surprise with each other. It was something that brought a smile to her face, seeing both ways of life blend so seamlessly. Outwardly she may have been in command of nothing more than hardened warriors, but there was another side of them so few truly glimpsed at, a compassionate and innocent facet of their personalities that shaped them into something entirely different to those that really knew them.

Eventually she had parted from the gathering, settling in as an observer while still remaining among them, content to watch them have their fun. This planet was home to them, Cartao being where they were born and trained, and it was one of the few places they felt they really belonged. Even with the Republic troopers that now intermingled with the clones as a sort of precautionary force, even if Spaarti was being held under sanction. That didn't seem to change anything, and they regarded the standard soldier with as much respect as they would one of their own brothers or sisters. The Republic-enlisted men seemed to be taken aback for a short while, but eventually even they relaxed.

There was peace, for those hours. No thoughts of war or fighting troubled them. But every single one down to the last man and woman knew that it wouldn't last forever. None of that would be mentioned in the coming day, however. Right now it was their time to simply live, and nobody deserved to take that away. K'oyacyi.

[member="Ali Hadrix"]

 

[Ali Hadrix]

The short-lived Battle of Roche was still fresh in Ali's mind. After escaping pursuers with Kol'k Oto and the Verpine delegation in custody, Ali had immediately taken a T-70 X-wing for herself and sought out Keira Ticon. She had spoken with Republic officials regarding the accusations of war crimes against her, and no charges were to be filed at the time. She was free to retain her command until the Senate investigation had accrued evidence worthwhile for placing charges, but Ali wasn't overly concerned. She had checked in with the Republic military leaders immediately below her and appraised them of her intentions to seek out Keira Ticon and determine if the woman warranted justice of her own.

Ali had tracked the woman's army to Cartao, where they had sought respite from war.

Ali walked amongst the soldiers, clones and otherwise alike, garbed in her own beskar'gam yet hidden entirely by a thick black cloak. The hood was pulled over her head to hide even the features of her buy'ce. Ali was unsure how well known or recognized she might be. She was just another clone to most of them, the rank pins on her cloak shoulders were elevated enough to prevent anyone from asking questions as she walked casually through their collections and gatherings. She spent nearly an hour simply observing them all through the visor of her helmet. She watched them converse, eat together, clean equipment and repair gear. She heard their discussions and thus learned their concerns, their worries and fears...but also their hopes, their dreams, their histories.

Ali hated slavery. It was one of the causes she championed for. As such, she detested cloning for the purpose of warfare; she found the act reprehensible. Few governments that invested in clone armies ever truly provided for their soldiers after their warring days were done; the Kaminoans had always invested in genetic modification that ensured this would not even be necessary. Spaarti had produced a veritable army, this was undeniable, but Ali wondered who would care for these men and women once their bodies were no longer needed or strong enough to hold weapons of war.

Every so often she would flit between groups of clones, sitting amongst them in silence and listening to their stories. The vocoder in her helmet distorted her voice so she was able to ask questions now and again. Her helmet systems broadcast no recognizable signal, so she would remain anonymous for the time being.
"What do you imagine life outside of this one might be as a child?" She asked at one point. The three clones and the lone Republic enlistee around her all laughed mildly. "We've had long conversations about that question," came the reply. "Lots of possibilities, we could have been born to any culture in the Republic, who knows?"
Ali smiled beneath her helmet. "What's your favorite possibility then?" She inquired.
Two of the soldiers shrugged, but the first took up Ali's challenge. She was essentially asking them to engage in fantasy, to free their minds of their regimental training long enough not just to imagine, but to believe that what they imagined might some day be real.
"I suppose I could have been born a smuggler's son," the clone announced. His fellows chortled, but he drove on. "Left on Naboo or some other politicized world for boarding school, paid for by my mother's secret success in the spice trade, I would become a well respected diplomat with a single, dark secret!" Ali allowed herself a laugh with that one, joining in with the group. She looked to the next, "And what about you?" She asked.

This went on and on; Ali spent another hour talking with clones and garnering a feeling for their loyalties and their motivations. They were not so regimented in their emotional thinking as Ali might have expected, though she could tell this was due to their Mandalorian upbringing. Mando'ade naritir aliit jaon an...She reminded herself. Mandalorians place family over all. She continued passing through the crowds of soldiers, leaving many to their work, but taking one or two aside here and there to ask questions and gain information. She stayed away from polarizing topics such as the war, but asked mainly after their immediate family within the unit and learned their stories. Ali continued to stray about until she caught sight of her.

Her.

The woman responsible for some of this disaster that had become her life. Keira Ticon, bandying with her soldiers in a small niche not far away. Ali adjusted the hood over her head, drawing it more forward, and approached the group in an even, firm-footed stride. Upon reaching the outer circle, Ali pressed herself through to confront the woman she sought. The soldiers on either side of her stepped aside, likely taken by enough surprise as to lack the time to assess her as a threat and deny her entry. Once she was through, Ali planted her feet firmly before Keira Ticon, one gauntleted hand resting on her hip, the other on the Verpine shattergun at her thigh. With the other hand, Ali drew back the hood to reveal her helmet, colored a deep maroon. As the cloak parted down her chest, maroon plates of armor were revealed, all limned in a strong jet black.
::Keira Ticon.:: Ali's distorted voice had a wavering tone to it, as if electronic components were fluxing the sound. ::I tried to apprehend you at Roche. I was...interrupted.:: With a swift hand, Ali drew the pistol at her hip, but with only two fingers on the grip; a clear expression of non-hostility. She handed the pistol off to one of the soldiers beside her, then drew back her cloak to show she hid nothing else. With a practiced hand, Ali pulled the helmet from her head, dark chocolate locks of hair tumbling down around her face and over her shoulders. She tucked the helmet beneath her arm. "What happened?" She asked, trying not to sound demanding. "You're clearly not one of the bad guys."

[member=Keira Ticon]​

 

[Keira Priest]

The second the weapon was pulled a handful of those about her reacted instinctively, reaching for their own sidearms and looking to her for a final order. "Udesii, vod. Udesii." When the Verpine shattergun was handed off their hands slowly relaxed to their sides, though they didn't return to the same nonchalance, casting sideways glances towards the new arrival. Gesturing with her hand she indicated for Ali to sit, welcoming her into the fold nearly immediately despite what could have been taken as a threatening display. "Please, join us. We're all family here." Her tone was even, almost peculiarly so, though there were no signs of an imminent threat in the way she moved or acted. It was a rarity, but this time Keira wouldn't lash out.

"No, I'm not one of the bad guys. Not anymore, at least." Though the amber taint to her eyes and the bruising born of corruption about them would tell a different story, she stood by and for the Republic so long as their respective ideologies matched up. Which, of course, was a nicer way of saying that so long as the army wasn't harmed and no objection was put forth to their presence, she would remain. It had been a long and winding road to recruit her, but now that she had begun to believe in the Republic's cause she was there to stay. "An arrest would have made things inconvenient for all of us. It's a bit difficult to fight a Sith when you're in cuffs." She cracked a smile, that statement meant as a joke.

Reaching over to where the twins lay in their stroller she smiled as each one grasped at her hand tightly. A boy and a girl - Reid and Kaya - and both Force sensitive from all she could glean. Unsurprising, given their parentage. "You'll have to be more specific. A lot has happened since the army was placed under my command. More than I or any of the men care to remember." A few nodded their agreement, one interjecting, "Except for the time Lusk shot that Darjetii. We all remember that." Laughing quietly, she shook her head. It was amazing how many positives could be gleaned from war when one spent their entire life immersed in it nearly from day one. The clones really were remarkable in that regard.

"If you speak of Roche, I can't tell you precisely what happened. Once the hangars were vented it was nothing more than chaos, and it seemed everybody was firing on who or whatever presented themselves as a viable target. For our own part we made our way into the Central Hub where we were brought into a fight shortly after. What happened after that I can't recall, but we came here not long after. It was about time for some RnR." Battlefields and warzones seemed to have been all she and the men had ever known since their first day together, so it was nice to have a chance to distance themselves from that way of life, even if it was just temporarily. Any opportunity to relax was one to be seized.

The Verpine shattergun had been passed around among the men for a short time, each of them admiring its craftsmanship, but it eventually found its place on the table before her. Every one of the men held a high appreciation for any advanced and effective weaponry, and this was no different. "Not bad kit." One of the men muttered a quiet comment in Old Corellian, and she flashed a crooked smile. "If you can find somewhere to get one, sure. But I don't think the Republic hands stuff like that out. Especially not to us common folk." Military humor was very much a take it or leave it ordeal.

[member="Ali Hadrix"]

 

[Ali Hadrix]

The Republic's Supreme Commander listened to Keira's report of the Roche battle from her perspective as the Verpine pistol was passed around amongst the soldiers attending. Some seemed to regard the weapon with awe, and she recognized the look several times; it was the same as when she had first laid eyes on the weapon as a child.
In all the ways that matter they are children...Ali thought sadly. She didn't know the clones like Keira did, and hardly had a grasp on the situation with the Republic government. They'd only made it to Roche before the Mandalorians due to a tip from one of Ali's contacts in one of the Clans. They were told an invasion fleet had been dispatched, and Ali had gathered everything she could scrape together to provide a defense. Instead of a battle they walked into the largest political trap she'd ever witnessed. And she began wondering if Keira and her clones had too...

Ali spoke a plethora of languages; it was essential to her life as a spy. Ticon's humor was not lost on Ali, but with a nod to the curious soldier, she replied in his own tongue. When her offer was received with a look of a confusion, she inclined her chin at the man. "Take it," she reiterated in Basic. He turned the weapon over in his hands; the cool durasteel was bronzed, the grip was inlaid with wroshyyr wood and gold filagree. It was the only decorative weapon her mother had ever forged. Her style typically favored function above all else.
"Consider it a gift...teh ner aliit at gar aliit." The Republic Commander set her buy'ce down on the ground, then stood and drew the hood from her face, exposing soft, pale features and large, dark eyes limned by chocolate locks of hair. Ali truly did not look the part she played. She took the weapon back from the soldier long enough to swiftly demonstrate its function. "The upper receiver has a lock near the muzzle, for maintenance." Ali spun the weapon around in her palm and returned it to its new owner. "It was my mother's..." Ali told the man. "Like my rifle, and my armor. Ner buir cuyir beskar- bal besbe'trayc-goran." My mother is a beskar and weapon smith.
Turning her head back toward Keira, Ali sat aside the woman and drew a paper-rolled cigarette from a pouch at her belt. She touched it to a wet bottom lip and let it stick while she took off her gloves, resting them across a thigh before lighting the cigarette. The woman drew deep and long, turning the smoke back out through her nostrils in a pair of thick streams that curled and plumed.
"I feel lost, Ticon." She muttered the confession. "They tell me who you've killed, what you've done, and they villianize you." She looked up at the rest of the clones around them. "You. They made you, and now they hate you." The take over of Spaarti had not been enough for many officials in the government, particularly those wishing to use the recent tragedy to accelerate their own political agendas. Ali scoffed, then dragged at her cigarette once more. "They've done the same to me now, Keira," Ali muttered. "When it came to killing those prisoners...please tell me that no one other than Lasedri herself had a choice. I know about the chips. Were you there?" Ali asked, her eyes searching Keira's for answers through the smoke that drifted between them.

[member=Keira Ticon]​

 

[Keira Priest]

The men looked to her with a question blatant in every way but the spoken word, as they remained silent with anticipation. A crooked smile turned up one corner of her mouth, and Keira looked upon the men with a gentle compassion most wouldn't have expected her to be capable of. Just like small children with a new toy, they wanted nothing more than to determine just how this newly gifted firearm functioned. "You all know where the range is. Just be safe, and don't do anything I wouldn't do. Oya, vod." And just like those young children they so closely resembled that small group was off in a flash, jostling one another and already arguing over just who would get to test out the pistol first and whether that was exactly fair.

Her expression sobered at the words spoken, though she couldn't help the dry chuckle that forced its way past her lips all the same. "I've killed a lot of people in my life, and done more than a few things I'm not proud of. I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate." Self-deprecating humor if there ever was any, but it withheld its own candle of truth nonetheless. "I know what they say about me, and what half-truths have already likely been spread. I won't tell you to disregard any of them completely, because none of them are likely entirely false. No matter what these men see in me, I'm not the same commander they hold in such high regard. But I have no doubt you've already been told as much."

A shake of the head was her only immediate explanation, but that single gesture would hardly suffice. "I was there since the beginning. Had been. The army was placed under my command before whispers of this coup even started. When the executions were called I presided over them, just as I had been ordered. At that point we were all nothing more than pawns. It was our lives or theirs, and I would much rather see all of them live another day than worry about the innocence of a particular prisoner." Harsh words, perhaps, but she meant every one of them. The only lives one could afford to worry about were those that immediately concerned them in every sense of the word, and those Imperials hadn't fit under that label.

"We marched the Jedi Enclave as well, but that was a bloodless affair. They surrendered nearly immediately, but I can't say for certain what was done with them afterwards. We were just the welcoming party." That was one aspect of the entire mess she would be long in regretting, if she found it in herself to do so at all. In her mind the Order had had it coming. "After that came Chazwa. Funny, after working to bring down the Republic for that short time we were just as quick to leap to its defense. Too many lives were lost that day, and I'm loath to let something like that happen again. Contruum and Balmorra were more than enough." That last conflict on the Republic capital had been salt in the wound.

For a brief moment her eyes slid shut, fluttering open seconds afterwards. "The chips have since then been removed, and I've been told by the men themselves that they follow me of their own volition. It's something I have to believe, because I know if they didn't want me as their commander they could just as easily assimilate into the Republic itself. We're aliit, a word that means more than what I was originally taught to believe. Aliit ori'shya tal'din." Family is more than blood. And it certainly was, now more than ever.

[member="Ali Hadrix"]

 

[Ali Hadrix]

"Bid cuyir..." Ali muttered back. So it is... She thought suddenly of her mother. The arrival of the clone soldiers on Contruum had been a blessing in the midst of the invasion, despite having still been a losing affair in the end. They'd helped secure exfiltration for their Republic brethren, as well as many of the civilians living in far off populations on the world. "I'm glad to hear the chips have been removed, and I want to apologize, on behalf of the Republic itself, for the trials you and your aliit have endured at the hands of a tyrant." Ali pulled from her cigarette and ran a hand through her thick dark hair. "The Mandalorians want war." Ali nodded toward some distance, unseen destination. "That's why they attacked Roche. We hadn't even been there long, maybe an hour ahead of them." Ali shook her head, laughing bitterly as she drew again from the smoke. "I was actually on my way to arrest you when it happened. The local Verpine government got it in their head that venting the hangars the Mandalorians had taken would be a good way to scatter their forces. And it would have been...but they didn't check for civvies before doing it. They ended up spacing a bunch of Mando non-combatants and a Jedi, Aaralyn-something, I never got her full name."
Ali sighed deeply. "One of our own, Heln...a Captain, didn't lift a finger when the Verps gave the order. I saw it all on holo...they just...vac'ed 'em. You know, Ticon...I've never killed a civvie before. Spy work doesn't allow for it. It's just...wrong, but it's also inefficient. Creates unnecessary complications. Even if you are a ne'ganar-kar'ta hutuun, a heartless coward, you avoid civvies at all costs." Ali looked up, her eyes wet with the tears of a woman made weak.
"You should have heard how they talked about it...on the vids, Keira. It was...cold. Thought of them like the drone workers...just chattel." Ali shivered slightly, shaking in her armor as a knife seemed to crawl up her spine. "Other vids showed that Mando'ade cleared the hangars before their forces arrived. Folks done up like civvies entered the hangars after work hours and killed the Verpine workers there, then helped the Mando'ade set up before bringing their families down for evacuation."
Ali shook her head. When she'd seen it, Abram had called them traitors. She'd corrected him, reminding him that families are more often than not justified in the actions they take to protect their loved ones. The preemption of the move concerned Ali, as it belied a certain nefarious intent on behalf of the Clan government, but there was nothing to be done about it. Anyone who could have given them information had died in that hangar.
"I don't think you're a monster," Ali said, suddenly off topic. "I hear things, you know. I'm a spy." She muttered, laughing to herself as she watched the smoke curl from the cherry of her cigarette. "But I've heard nothing thus far that convinces me you deserve anything but to continue serving the position you're now in."
Ali stood, dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing it with her boot. "I'm not going to try and arrest you, or do anything. In fact, I need your help."

[member=Keira Ticon]​

 

[Keira Priest]

"You don't have to apologize for anything." Keira was quick to assure that, though she had been of the opinion that the Republic was on its last legs for quite some time now. The recent developments that seemed to have been the final nails in the coffin had instead revived the galactic power at least partially, and everything seemed to be taking a turn for the better. "You didn't give any of the orders, you weren't with us during the fighting. Hell, you probably didn't even know the army existed until Contruum, and even then nobody really knew how many were lost. Besides, you don't have to be sorry for me, because I signed up for this. And the men don't know anything different, no matter how much I wish that wasn't true."

The reaction elicited from the woman next to her when she recounted the tale of the innocent lives lost on Roche was partially foreign to her. Though she had felt for the deaths of the civilians herself, her emotions had been tense and white hot rather than shivering and brought low. She supposed she had expected one holding the title of Supreme Commander to be more reminiscent of herself in the essence that strong emotions were held inside unless she was among those closely trusted or alone. "I used to work in the criminal underworld for a good few years." No need to mention that she had recently gotten back in that business. "Trust me, civilian lives are worthless to more people than you think." Especially when it was either kill or be killed.

Her jaw clenched, the fingers of her cybernetic left hand curling into a fist. "I suppose if they want war, they'll get it. As much as the men admire the Mandalorians, they won't hesitate to defend the Republic from a threat." That was one thing she thought highly of them for among many, many others. "I hope you know that if they were to war with us we would likely lose." Here she looked to Ali, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't say it to be negative. It's merely a fact. However strong our military is, however well-trained our soldiers, however much I believe that this army can give them hell every step of the way, they're better equipped to outfight us." But they would bleed for every inch of territory gained, should it come to open conflict.

For a moment she considered the twins where they lay in their stroller, and the lives they would lead once they had grown and learned of the greater galaxy themselves. If fate was kind, they wouldn't end up anything like their parents. "I've fought on behalf of the One Sith and The Primeval. I've done a lot of things most people would cringe at, things that won't show up on any record you can find. I've stood by and witnessed many horrors and done nothing to stop them, and taken part in a few more personally. I've worked to bring down the Republic for years, and just because I'm fighting for them now doesn't excuse any of that. So don't tell me I'm not a monster." She flashed a smile. "But kindly don't tell me I am one, either. I'd like to save a bit of face."

When Ali stood she did as well, looking across the lives she was responsible for as the clones continued to talk among themselves and went about their business as if neither of them were there. "Help with what, exactly?" She had a feeling she didn't want to know.

[member="Ali Hadrix"]

 

[Ali Hadrix]

There was a lot Ali wanted to say in response to Keira. Not all of it was contrarian, of course, but she held her tongue anyways. She wanted to be seen as an avid listener, rather than a commentator on everyone's thoughts. It was more important that Keira feel Ali was ready to accept her and her clones before she could ever feel comfortable trusting her.
Trust...that was simultaneously the rarest and most abundant of resources amongst warriors. Meet a soldier at a bar and they'll keep their weapons close at hand, save a soldier's life and you'll have their trust for the rest of yours. War was odd like that, it made the strangest of bedfellows, and for one very predictable reason: You learn who someone really is in the middle of a fight and are thus able to trust them explicitly or not. Soldiers weren't necessarily honest, but war was, and it spoke for the individual more intuitively than the individual often speaks for itself.
So Ali smiled when Kiera smiled, laughed when Keira laughed, but otherwise remained quiet, thinking of the words the other woman spoke, mulling them over in her mind. And when it came time to address her concerns, Ali was lost in thought until shaken back to the present by an errant smoke from her dying cigarette drifting into her nostrils. She looked up and over at Keira, as if returning to a conversation long since ended.
"The Republic..." Ali explained, "The Republic needs your help, not myself, per se. The Mandalorian leaders are out of control, and the Republic government is folding with every step they take forward. I'll be doing what I can from my part to stem the tide, but I don't see this leading anywhere but war. It's what they seem to want. I'm not so pessimistic as you when it comes to a conflict, Keira. I was raised amongst those people and I've seen them do amazing things, but they've never truly held the Galaxy in their grip for a reason: They're not capable of keeping the fire alive. At the end of the day, our people want peace. War is a distraction, it's a pursuit, but it's hardly the lifestyle they would have the rest of the Galaxy think it is for us. Yes, we hunt, we rule, we conquer, but we also farm, grow, build, cultivate. No people can live in perpetual warfare. The Republic will stand victorious in the end. But the Mando'ade are afraid; they must bloody our noses or else appear weak. And this I understand, but we cannot simply bow to their wishes. To do so would be to betray the citizenry of the Republic. I refuse to allow that to happen."
Ali took a deep breath and let it out before continuing. "I need you to replace me as the leader of the Republic military. I can't keep working under a government that wants to see me hang just to save their own shebse a moment longer. What we need is to take the fight to the Clans before they can bring it home. Show them with a solid sucker punch that any conflict they wish won't simply cost them, it will cost them everything. They don't want to lose their buffer against the Sith anymore than we want to go to war with them. But as long as it's looming on the horizon, we need to strike hard. I can't do that alone, and I cannot do it under the banner of the Republic any longer."

[member=Keira Ticon]​

 

[Keira Priest]

"I..." Very rarely was Keira speechless, and even then it took the right person saying just the right things to render her unable to retort. This time it was simply consequence of the circumstances and the undefinable responsibility that came with what had been asked of her. Her adjustment when it came to being in command of millions of lives had been daunting, and she could only imagine what it would be like leading the full might of the Republic military herself. It was one challenge she nearly didn't want to rise to, for once in her life content with remaining inside her comfort zone. But she knew the greatest things in her life had come from breaching those barriers, and this would be no different.

However, now she had responsibilities outside of war, despite it being all she had known for the better part of eight years. Now she had a family and others that cared for her well-being and individuals she cared for more than she would any other. Included on that list were those within the army she commanded, and she knew that combat would be the only facet of life they would ever truly hold as their own. In that she knew she would never be able to leave battle behind for very long, as it would find her regardless. It was best to own up to that fact rather than shy away from it, but she still wasn't overly enthused at the idea of having a further extreme amount of responsibility.

The concerns that pertained to war with the Mandalorians would be voiced before she so much as considered the thought of replacing the other woman as head of the Republic military. That was a topic she would do her best to collect her thoughts on in the meantime. "I'm not quite as prepared to beat the war drums just yet. Our people have coexisted in the past and I believe we're capable of doing so again. Right now what we need to do is figure out how to mend the wounds between us. The saying 'Mando'ad draar digu,'" - A Mandalorian never forgets - "Exists for a reason. You're right in saying they don't want war. All we have to do is agree to terms that prevent that." But, as with everything, it was not as easy as she made it seem.

Shaking her head, she looked down at the ground for a moment before her amber gaze returned to Ali. At once she wanted to accept and deny the offer put forth, and there was no clean or concise answer to be given. "I don't know if I can do that. Not now, when I have millions of ade to care for and two ad'ike of my own. They're my priority now, not..." Another shake of the head. "Not the Republic. Make no mistake, the men and I will do all we can to preserve it in what glory it has left, but I don't think I'm the right person to take command of the entirety of its military. Had you asked me the same no more than a year ago, there's no doubt I would have agreed immediately. But now I have different things to fight for."

Upon her next breath she released a quiet sigh. "Believe me when I say I don't mean that as an insult to you or anyone within the Republic itself. I'm just different now. For better or worse I don't know, but I have other things to consider. Lives far more precious than my own will ever be."

[member="Ali Hadrix"]