Sometimes we just have to do these things. Regardless of how terrible they may seem. [Falcon gave a single, slow nod.] Nobody's perfect... Even heroes. I've done things I'm not proud of...
[He looked back at the statues, considering the fates of the bodies within. Was it really that much different from claiming a reward for some dead fugitive's carcass?]
Maybe I was just doing what I had to. Because I knew nothing else, or maybe just didn't care. [He sneered.] I was just so angry at everybody. All I wanted was some answers, but I got nothing. I just followed the same steps because I didn't know anything else.
[He took his helmet in both hands, glaring at it. The excuse he'd hidden behind all these years. Snarling his quiet anger atthe symbol of his heroic fascade.]
So I kept fighting, hoping that maybe it would give me some answers, that it would hold some purpose for me... Some meaning for this empty life, but I got nothing. [His fingers spread out, hooking around the sides of the helmet like claws as he applied pressure.] Even if I did find out, discover my memories... It wouldn't fix anything. I couldn't go back to who I was, or carry on being what I am. Like trying to fit pieces of two different puzzles.
[He sighs, halfheartedly tossing his helmet to the ground, his heart crashing with it as the beginnings of tears form in his eyes.]
I'm not a hero... I'm nothing, a nobody... Everything I've lived is just a lie.
[He slumps back against the wall, soon sliding down into little more than a tired, broken form on the floor. He gave a weak shrug.]