People often ask me, "Why were you born? Were you even born, or were you created somewhere, by someone?" I don't know the answer, to be honest-- but I plan on finding out. There is one thing, however, that I know about myself. I'm born for death and destruction. How will that help me remember my past? I don't know. Maybe I'll just destroy everything on this God-forsaken planet until I get some bloody answers. I know of no other way to do it; it's my nature, and I won't be the one to deny nature. I told this to Professor Linken the other day. Then I loaded my shotgun. He called me insane. How ironic: an insane man called Syco. I would laugh if I thought the irony was even remotely funny. The good Professor begged for mercy, but I told him that in the end, everyone bleeds alike. Then I shot him. No ceremony, I just pulled the trigger, watched him die, then left. What's there to worry about for a man with no family, a man without even a bloody idea about his past? I plan on discovering...
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