Tried in-game editing.
**My name is KS-552. Yes. It is my name. I was called John before. John Roberts. But that name means nothing to anyone anymore.
I’m a part of the Universal Union Earth Division Overwatch.
We were sent to clean an apartment. I didn’t ask for whom it belonged to. I didn’t have to. I knew it belonged to a middle-aged man who had been taken to questioning a day eariler. Usually people who come back from the place he was taken to won’t need apartments anymore, so that’s why the place was empty.
We were throwing away all the stuff. Furniture, empty cans, bottles and boxes and generally everything there was. I had UT-681 with me. A good man I had worked with for a long time. He liked breaking things and wouldn’t let anyone touch his rifle he called “Marty”. Sometimes we others thought he was a bit crazy.
I was cleaning stuff from a corner of the apartment. There was that wooden drawer with some stuff in it. Just because of curiosity I decided to look closely at what it held inside. Then I saw a photo. Photo of a small family with a little baby.
I don’t know if my Mind-Control Unit had gone haywire, but I had a flashback. I suddenly remembered everything. My wife. My little son. Both slaughtered by the Combine forces. They had never done anything bad in their life. They were innocent. And still that one day a Strider came and killed them both with its repeater gun. We had had a cute small detatched house in downtown Boston, and then, without a reason, it was blown up by one of the Mortar Synths. I remember how the Hunters raided our neighbourhood and I with my family barely managed to escape. And then had come the Strider walking along the street.
And I suddenly felt immense hatred against the Universal Union. Every single part of it. I wanted to destroy it. I wanted to see it burn. I wanted the enslavement of humans to end. Then UT-681 came and woke me up from my memories.
-Hey 552, you still there? he said with his inhuman, disgusting, metallic alien voice.
And like if it would have been a reflex, I pulled out my Overwatch Standard Issue Sidearm and pointed it at 681.
-Hey whoa, what are you doing, man? he said in disbelief. I could see his surprised, disbelieving face under his mask. The face that had become so familiar in the past years.
None of that mattered.
Without hesitation or regret, I pulled the trigger.
The shot sounded like a distant explosion. I saw the blinding, yellow flash coming out of the muzzle. I heard his metallic, groaning scream as the bullet penetrated his armor and flesh. I saw his armor shatter and his bright red, alien-modified blood splatter in the air.
None of that mattered.
His dead, lifeless body hit the wooden floor. It had always been lifeless. Killed by the evil genocide that was surrounding and consuming everything.
The tyranny had to end. It was a disease, a cancer, a plague that was eating the heart of humanity, killing innocent souls around the planet.
The cure was found.
The cure was me.
The story is based in an alternate reality, where Freeman is kept in stasis although the Combine has invaded and conquered Earth.
The blood is bright, I know, I couldn’t have done anything to prevent that.
Sorry if my writing is clumsy, I’m just a beginner at writing stories. Especially in english.
Thanks to Ben_Wolfe for inspiration :tiphat: