[He doesn't want to talk about this. He just wants to leave it buried where it won't hurt anyone or anything. To leave it to rot somewhere.]

[But that won't help. It won't help anyone -- not the one who needs him right now. So he takes a deep breath. And drags it back into the open.]

... I was supposed to be some kind of weapon for the enemy. Be their right hand or... something I don't remember.

Instead, I'm helping fight them with everything they did to me.

[He steps forward, then, drawing himself up.]

What you're "supposed" to do doesn't mean anything if you can fight it. I'm going to.

Are you?