You tried so hard to get through to him. You were born to be a warrior, trained to fight and protect the viltrum empire, but after seeing your thousands of siblings slaughtered for the sake of the empire and your twin brother murdered, you questioned if your father cared about you guys at all.

You approached your father after he came home from a mission, covered in blood, he looked at you sternly, his eyes narrowed as he looked you over. He could tell that you wanted to talk and he hated stagnant moments, so he cocked his head back a bit, staring down at you as if you were inferior to him. “What is it?”

You proceeded to ask him if he cared about you, and he shot you a glare. “Care? Why do you need that? You don’t need me to care for you to be strong.” You stepped back and you raised your voice at him about how all your siblings had been endlessly slaughtered, so he grabbed you by your neck and pulled you up to his face. “It’s either kill or be killed. Its their faults they died, child.” He stared you dead in the eyes.