I feel my body shiver down to my core.
But I have my orders.
And I need to follow them.
I am up in the air,
miles from the ground.
With ammunition worth tons of weight.
The aircraft I fly is the latest of deadly devices,
all of whom were made for this particular mission.
None of them lasted.
Am I the next to go down?
If I fail, there will be more people,
after me, just like before.
What does that make of me?
Does my existence means nothing more than that?
Am I just a tool? A puppet?
The disaster that has come upon us,
our own upbringing.
Hadn't it already done enough harm?
Why are we doing this?
What do we get from this?
As I close in to my destination,
glimpses from the past come to my mind.
Not only my past, but from others too.
Images from the past that I came across
in the media. In the books.
The deaths. The havoc. The pandemonium.
How would I be remembered after this?
Would they remember me like a god?
Should I pull the trigger, or not?
It's a dilemma.
Would I be able to forgive myself ever?
I need to focus.
I need to choose.
I need to make a decision.
There's not much time left.