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You cling to the illusion of choice, yet you are merely puppets on a string, dancing to the rhythm of a broken clock. Birth, growth, decay, death—a repetitive cycle of suffering you call life. Soon, the veil will tear, and you will see the beautiful darkness that awaits.

I've heard stories about what you're capable of when the blood starts to boil. It would be a real shame if we couldn't find a way to settle this like civilized men. So tell me, are you going to listen, or do I have to make you?

Dear Mom, we're holed up in an old church now. The bells still ring every hour, though nobody's touched them in weeks. Anderson got hit yesterday - he'll make it, but they're sending him home. The nights are the worst. The waiting. Always the waiting.

These monsters think they can take our city, turn it into their playground of evil. But we're armed and ready. Tonight we'll storm their hideout and send every last demon back to the hell they came from.

I've watched them tear through our defense lines, ripping tanks apart like paper, some claim it's just advanced weaponry, but if you ask me, I've seen things that defy explanation, moving through the smoke, taking our units apart piece by piece.

This investigation is under my control now, detective. Leave the paperwork on my desk and walk away. You’ve done enough damage for one day. Your family’s future depends on your cooperation, so don't make me regret giving you this opportunity.

Listen carefully, detective. You are playing a game you cannot possibly win. The files are already secure, and your department's reach ends exactly where I say it does. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment now; we have far more important work to finish together.

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