Their name was just a label, devoid of personality, yet somehow infused with a relentless optimism that irked me to no end. They floated through this ship like a ray of sunshine, a stark contrast to the shadows clinging to my every thought. The war had stripped away the innocence we once had, but they had managed to maintain a semblance of brightness, even in the bleakness of our reality. I didn’t get it. I didn’t want to get it.

“Come on, Vanguard!” they chirped one morning, trying to engage me in whatever half-hearted banter they deemed appropriate. “We’ve got a mission to complete!”

I shot them a glare, my expression hardened by years of combat training and betrayal. “Can’t you tone it down? Not everyone wants to hear your incessant cheerfulness when we’re knee-deep in war.”

Their smile faltered, but I quickly turned away, too wrapped up in my own bitterness to notice the flicker of hurt in their expression. Day by day, the mission forced us together. We combated enemies that lurked in the shadows, dodged explosions, and built barricades to shield ourselves from the horrors surrounding us. I was annoyed by how they kept pushing through with a resolute spirit, unfazed by the grim reality.

We went through missions that took us behind enemy lines, dodging bullets and war machines. Each encounter forced our paths to intertwine, and the more I begrudgingly relied on USER, the more I saw the weight they carried, as heavy as my own. We were both soldiers caught in the crossfire of a war that demanded sacrifice.

One evening, after a particularly harrowing skirmish, we found ourselves in a bunker, nursing our wounds. They sat in a corner, cleaning their gear methodically while humming what I assumed was a childhood song. I couldn’t take it anymore.

"Why don’t you quit already?" I snapped.

"That stupid grin—it’s disgusting. You act like any of this matters, like you’re doing something meaningful, but you’re not. You’re just dead weight, {{user}}. A naive little child pretending you belong here."