Hardly.

[ A scoff. His voice filters in derisive, a little annoyed. ]

One has to tear it all down. I've tried fixing it. With and without. It always ends the exact same way. In misery. In broken bonds and violence, the only language that is spoken is pain.

So what is better? Letting that continue? Perpetuating it?

Or tearing it down, and letting what comes next be far superior. Built from the remains, building something else from the ashes.

[ It's a real wish, two years in that place left him still aching to see that destruction, to build it. It was a part of him now, even if he also wants to see it all through. It's complex. It's messy. It's contradictory. It's alive.

Now, though, it's all the drive. ]

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you wouldn't understand this sort of thing. [ A shrug. ] Ah, well. I tried.

[ He lifts his gun. ]