Two men wanted to get a boy to do a job for them. A simple job. The problem was that the job they wanted the boy to do was dangerous. It came with an unenviable risk that didn’t affect the men as much as it did the safety of the child they planned to send into harm’s way.

The boy didn’t wanna go. There was nothing they could pay him to make him change his mind. He knew that walking into danger like that was paramount to suicide and what do credits mean to the dead? If you ain’t alive, you can’t spend em.

The first man argued that he could get the boy to do what they wanted. All he’d need to do is be nice. “I’ll kill him with kindness” he said. So, he bought the starving boy food and drink. He gave him a place to stay and a kind shoulder to lean on. He drew the boy into a false sense of security and made him believe they were friends. The boy, in such a short time and starved of affection came to dote on the man.

But when the man asked him nicely to do the simple job, the boy refused.

The second man argued that he could get the boy to do what they wanted. All he’d need to do is make the boy more scared of him than he was of doing the job. So, he beat that boy to within an inch of his life until he was so afraid that he’d end it, that he thought doing the job was paramount to a chance of survival.

Scared out of his wits, the boy did the job.

I remember those days as if they were yesterday, Sunshine. I remember the warmth in my belly of the hot food and the knuckles of his fist hitting my face. I remember what it felt to be lured into a false sense of security with kindness. It felt safe. It felt like I could refuse to do what was asked of me because I had protection… love.

But when I was being beaten, that protection wasn’t there. When I was being beaten, I knew that if I didn’t agree to do the job, I’d get killed. I knew that my only chance of survival was to escape that beating and take my chances on doing what was asked of me.

Two very different methods resulted in two very different outcomes.

And I learned a life lesson that you’ve apparently yet to learn.

Nice guys finish last.

I’m not a nice guy, Mister Sunshine. I’m not a nice guy and I don’t finish last. You can’t kill me with kindness and we both know you’re not capable of the level of violence it’ll take to make sure my shoulders stay pinned to that canvas and I do the job.

That means that on Warzone, only one us gets his way and for the other, it’s the end of the road.

And you should never fear the end, Mister Sunshine.

The end is where we meet….

And I send you on your way.