"This story didnt have a happy ending..."
"The hero doesn't walk away into the horizon triumphant and confident in his successive one man army go notion bad arse kill all feel good attitude, no instead i die here."
"Sure fighting through all of NeoPrak's rag tag hired gun mercs, genocidal sociopathic cultists, murderous genestructured hypersapien experiments, and snooty privateer security rent a cop military felt like an accomplishment...but was it worth having to find out that it was my very own flesh has betrayed me?"
"On the other side of a pane glasgow window, across an atrium of the golden laced porcelain marble mold columns, and spatial depth ridden tiles all neatly placed upon a white staircase aperture stood my fellow comrade."
"He looked at me, and as i did to him. I knew that he had sold our race to this corporation in exchange for their godly acceptance. Above him sat a row of nine NeoPrak, thrones built from obsidian and the bones of our people."
"He said softly, that there was no need for an already understandable explanation as i nodded in grave disappointment."
The Visage Stood up from the middle throne and spoke in plain english.
"A thread of hope can only last as long as the sheers of despair wishes"
"And just like that, i felt my body turn to ash and dust, taking one hard look at my former fellow brother and then...the end"