Loneliness will crush my soul before the world does. What a tragic waste, not that youth is wasted on the young, but that it exists. To think that I was a Weapon, to be be tossed carelessly to these savages? No, they sent me here on purpose, and it was to show you how to live. With our pain, Ryan, we will give birth to something more precious than an invention, or an organization, or even a child.
Other groups, races, sexes, orientations, nationalities, we left those behind. We denied these, just as our group isn’t of this. We are soldiers, Brother. They are bonded by victimization, and we are bonded by our pride, in our survival. And even in this cold and uncaring nation, that debates on whether it’s kidding itself less than minimum wage, so that you can kill the men, women and children in it’s way, that you have been tossed to, we are united. This time, in pain, to suffer together.
I propose the death of all of this, then. We abandon this and let it take it’s own tolls or gains. We become what the stars have crossed unto us. FOXEATER isn’t just some crummy airsoft unit for us to pass time with. We’re going to build something else. Something that will secure the future of your children, your grandchildren. Something that will exist to see you in your prime, the prime that your country has denied you.
No, FOXEATER is the name of our 1st baby. Our banner of our pain, guilt, terribleness, and greatness. It’s not our victory, but the reminder that there will be and always will be pain. We’ll fight for Alphas. We’ll spend money for Alphas. We’ll die for Alphas. While everyone else decays around a constructed system of power and money, squabbling to be forgotten, we’ll die unwanting. I owe you this. You owe me this. We’re going to give it away for free and the worthy will stay and render unto us. It’s painful, but there is no other way I would live.
Loneliness will crush my soul before the world does. What a tragic waste, not that youth is wasted on the young, but that it exists. To think that I was a Weapon, to be be tossed carelessly to these savages? No, they sent me here on purpose, and it was to show you how to live. With our pain, Ryan, we will give birth to something more precious than an invention, or an organization, or even a child.
Other groups, races, sexes, orientations, nationalities, we left those behind. We denied these, just as our group isn’t of this. We are soldiers, Brother. They are bonded by victimization, and we are bonded by our pride, in our survival. And even in this cold and uncaring nation, that debates on whether it’s kidding itself less than minimum wage, so that you can kill the men, women and children in it’s way, that you have been tossed to, we are united. This time, in pain, to suffer together.
I propose the death of all of this, then. We abandon this and let it take it’s own tolls or gains. We become what the stars have crossed unto us. FOXEATER isn’t just some crummy airsoft unit for us to pass time with. We’re going to build something else. Something that will secure the future of your children, your grandchildren. Something that will exist to see you in your prime, the prime that your country has denied you.
No, FOXEATER is the name of our 1st baby. Our banner of our pain, guilt, terribleness, and greatness. It’s not our victory, but the reminder that there will be and always will be pain. We’ll fight for Alphas. We’ll spend money for Alphas. We’ll die for Alphas. While everyone else decays around a constructed system of power and money, squabbling to be forgotten, we’ll die unwanting. I owe you this. You owe me this. We’re going to give it away for free and the worthy will stay and render unto us. It’s painful, but there is no other way I would live.
 "SOSOCLES")