What Men May Do, What We May See

[Silver.2]

Who could be blamed, as to what had happened? Many, reasoned Crux. Those who had twisted him, those who had changed him. Killers, sinners, gluttons, beurocrats...so many. But, what did it really matter?

A small salvage ship floated among the wreckage, sifting through this cold, metal tomb. It would would need to be pulled away, in any case. As an arm bounced off a panel, something shimmered

All that could be blamed was his persistence. The very fact that he's clung onto himself all of this time. That his spirit has not been broken. As he turned away from the metal form, he glanced to the woman. She let out a sigh.

He simply found it on his doorstep - figuratively. It was an anonymous package, no return adress, or lcation. Just the locket, some kind of report, and a letter.

"You've already given up what may remain of your humanity, Crux" She said, as he passed back into the room. "You've already given enough. But what is this? Some kind of solace?" He clenched his teeth. "No, Crux, that is simply an illusion. A vessel to comprehend something that you can no longer see." With that she walked out of the room.

The letter was simple, short...

"Maybe this will help"

-An old friend