[Being delegated to cannon fodder is bad enough, accepting that you're cannon fodder as well, but also accepting it with the knowledge that you have the capacity to be a decent human being but the functionality of one has been stolen from you?]

[The end result is two sad men moving around dead bodies on the Moira and reminiscing about how much they hate war even though they're both fine tuned for the thing they despise. Cannon fodder that would much rather go have fun with friends or do normal work than have to kill people.]

Yeah. It fucks you up, too. Living with all this anger that someone else gives you, and then making up your own anger.

[He goes over to the remains of rubble to look for any more dead.]

All of the friends I fought with are dead. [Save for Florian and Darko, but Florian gave up his life for a new identity. Darko... Darko shouldn't be mentioned as existing.] They were all thrown into mass graves. And something like that is going to happen to these stupid assholes. Die for a cause that doesn't even matter and then they're thrown into a fucking pit, or space, or melted, or whatever the fuck we're going to do that doesn't involve gravestones.