Hahahahahaha look at me. I’m in the heart of enemy territory. District 13. I walk amongst those celebrating my fucking death. Nobody else can get in here, this is rebel country. Not me, I am the ultimate faced. I’m camouflaged, like a fucking chameleon. I am the best warrior the regime has ever had. I’ll take all these bastards on, I’ll get full power of this place and give it back to the regime. I’m part of the rebellion and none of those little bastards suspect me, they don’t suspect a fucking thing. I killed one of us, well two of us now but that's a small price to pay. He took my fucking kill, I wanted that rat bastard for myself. I wanted to be the one to kill Benny…Benjamin. Fuck I meant Benjamin. That prick was a means to an end, nothing more. A good faceless is still worse than a bad human, his silly little ideas of unification got him fucking killed. When you mix cats and dogs you’re bound to leave blood everywhere. Michael, Michael died without knowing he was a faceless, I guess that’s the best way for a faceless to go. Why don’t I kill the rest of them though? Why is that filthy half-breed still breathing, James too, he’s starting to get a little too comfortable with all this extremism shit, this should be new to a unifier like him. I should kill them, I really should…but…

Cyrus’ thoughts get cut off by Tim putting his hand on his shoulder. “You good Chris? You kinda froze a little, was that your first time killing a person?”. Cyrus pushes Tim’s hand away and in an almost automatic response he said, “don’t call that vermin a person”. Tim’s eyes have a look of shock to them. Cyrus is staring at his hands again, this time his mind racing. The memory of the first faceless he ever killed. The words, *dont call those vermin people*, echoing through his head as he sees flashbacks of all the faceless corpses he created, his response simple every time, *They aren’t people, they are faceless*. *Hey Cyrus, how many people did you kill today*, *I killed no people today, only faceless*. *simple, I’m a person, you’re a person, that is the enemy, how can something that resembles us so little on the outside and even less on the inside be the same as us*. No. no. why the fuck am I thinking of all this shit right now, I have a fucking mission. *we kill pigs, we kill spiders, we kill fish, that’s because we are human. If I kill a human it's murder. If a faceless kills a faceless it’s murder. If I kill a faceless that’s business, farming, extermination, whatever way you wanna put it* I know what comes next. I fucking know what comes next *say Cyrus, what’s it when a faceless kills a faced* Cyrus pleads desperately with his memories. Bastard . Stop. don’t say it *I guess it's the same, although more tragic, they probably see us as no less than vermin* Cyrus feels like he’s going to get sick, but he can’t. 

*Cyrus, you soft bastard* what the fuck is this, this isn’t a memory *I’m your fucking conscience dumbass, are you a faceless or are you a fucking human*. I’m a human. I’m a faced human *then where’s your fucking face dumbass* shut up. You shut the fuck up. I’ll kill you *I am you*

I’m a faced. I’m a faced. I’m a faced. I’m undercover. Then I’m gonna go get my face back. I’m still a faced goddammit. *how you gonna get your face back?* I…I don’t fucking know…it’s mine…I’m a faced I need my face. *nobodies arguing with you* you are *I’m you* fuck….FUCK! *if you really are a faced then snap the fuck out of it. Remember your mission. Can you continue your mission* I don’t know *what kind of doubts have you got, what’s keeping you from your mission Cyrus* I don’t know *then fucking snap back to reality, take out the faceless once and for all*

“Hey Tim?”, Cyrus says, snapping out of his trance. “Yeah what's up?”, Tim responds. “What are we doing now?” Cyrus asks. “We’re gonna hide out where my old gang are, you in?” Tim asks in a friendly manner. “Give me the co-ordinates”, Cyrus says bluntly, “I’m gonna get some air first”