My parents want me to move back to India.

I could, you know. It's not as if I have a great deal keeping me in London. And the Mob paid well for that unruly action in Tokyo...wonderful. I work for the Criminal Element now.

I left that part out of the weekly phone call with my parents. They're to good for that. have so much faith, in me, in God...I was like them once. It drove me to be the best, to outperform my (white male) colleagues...& what did it earn me?

The video of me failing to protect the Prime Minister has 400 Million views now. I'm sure it's making someone a lot of money.

Just don't read the Comments.

God.

The Comments!

If I was a better person I'd let it just slide away...I wanted to be a better person. You know, as a Sikh girl growing up in England. It will make you hard, which it did, but I also wanted to be good.

Reading the Comments from the cesspool of Humanity makes me want to bash all their fucking brains out.

Britain is wise to not allow Civillians (even C.P.S's) to own weapons. I am proud to be British. God save the Queen & all that rubbish. The men here are only equally as stupid, piggish, & infantile as men everywhere else. I don't want to leave! Making a mistake should't end your career, right?

I say that, but the same mistake ended a man's life, didn't it?

See that? I made a funny.

God...what does religion even mean to me?

 I am an Initiated Sikh, but come on now: I was raised a Sikh. Is it really a choice when it's all you know?

Is God within me & within the world? Yes, I suppose so...but I don't have the faith of my parents. Or their courage.

I don't wear a turban because let's be honest: It typecasts you.

"Oh, you're a Sikh! Where is that funny little knife you have to wear?"

Not exactly helpful on job interviews in a modern world. Even in India few people forget it was Sikh Bodyguards who assassinated a Prime Minister (Ugh...I hate that word!) ages ago. You would think the sacrifices our people made for Queen & Country would at least matter a little.

They do not though. Not even a little. Average Bloke on the street sees you as a "Daft Asian" at best, possibly a good time for a few quid if his Mates ain't looking.

Fuck. That.

However, even saying so just shows what a bad Sikh I am, eh? Amarjeet Kaur Inderpal - Failed CPS, Failed Sikh...what's next? A failed marriage? Failed mother?

Plenty of room for failure yet: I'm not even 30 years old...lovely.

If God is listening, listen here: I do not wish to Fail again. Not ever. I will do anything to avoid that shame again. Show me the Way, & I will follow no matter the pain, no matter how long or how hard it is.

God Save me from the shame of failure.

There we go, work Visa underway, office (well, a dingy, unfurnished room anyway) & a flat with AC.

The Noble Beginnings of the Inderpal Agency.

I do hate to leave the UK. I mean, I can still go on Holiday there or India for that matter. It's not as if I am banished to this sweltering desert filled with rich elitist pigs forever.

There is a demand for Female Bodyguards in the Middle East due to the antiquated customs of the Koran. Men cannot see their wives & daughters or whatever load of bollocks: excellent. My infamy may even work to my favor here, as some of these Oil Sheiks love a good scandal.

My Arabic is rusty, but coming back to me more every day. Also, while I love Britain, I am a Gun Girl. The strict laws of the UK just don't work for me on that matter. True, it means I may have to face down armed assailants more often, but I'd rather have a gun in my hand or even a stick than rely on my winning personality to get my client out of a scrap.

Ugh...I am still trying to pretend like it didn't happen!

What was that fucking Bird?!?

I don't know if it was my prayers, the old geezer, or (Ugh!) reaching into Aiofe, but these mannish hands have learned a new trick apparently. Well, some times, anyway.

Seems if I want it bad enough, I can find my Clients. Protect them too. What does it entail?

Well, I always liked Henna. Tattoos are forbidden of course, but Henna? A-Ok.

Good thing too.

The doctors say I'll may be able to walk without a cane if I can endure months of grueling physical therapy. Even then, I should expect a limp at best; won't be competing in the Olympics then...

Hah. Such a funny one you are.

The fact of the matter is: My career is effectively dead as a Close Protection Specialist. The hurdles of being a woman combined with my disgraceful failure were already signifigant; a visible limp is the proverbial nail in the coffin. That limits ones tactical options, obviously, but also sends a certain signal: Unfit for duty.

Better to have terrible scars or some such: At least that doesn't signal weakness.

A Bodyguard with a distinct handicap is not so different than being a bloody fat fitness instructor: Unlikely to find paying clients. Even if you had a reputation, which I decidedly do not.

Not to say options are in short supply: this "Lorenzo" character has made a handsome offer for a Security Specialist, including a year long contract & retainer...suspiciously handsome, that. More of these "jobs" & never mind the Bollocks I imagine. Will need to look into that after the next surgery, would not be cricket to make a descision lacking my faculties.

Though as far as I can tell, this "Lorenzo" makes all his descions in such a state. Bloody wonderful. Hardly surprising he wants a Bodyguard then.

There is also the other matter. One to take at least as seriously...

One's flesh is a gift from God, who lives within & without...we are forbidden to pollute or mar it...& yet...

The email is very detailed in it's specifications. I had no idea such prosthetics existed...as I have come to learn: There is more in the World than Heaven & Earth.

Will I go forward in this broken body gifted to me by my parents & God? Or will I take the path offered, & pass on that physical therapy & limp, thank you very much?

I'm sorry Mother. I'm sorry Father.

I simply can't be a failure.

With the substantial retainer from Lorenzo, I can finally move on my plans for the Inderpal Agency

Mahmoud will be the "owner" of the Middle Eastern branch of the Agency...a bad taste in the mouth that; He is pleasant enough, & well connected in local circles (imperative in the UAE)...still. Knowing that I must pay a local National (& a Man on top of that) to "own" my business for me simply does not sit right.

"Tradition" they would say. "Customs."

Yes, well...I am still quite cross about it.

In the above file I mentioned taking a Close Protection Contract while on one of these mad "Jobs" (I will not disgrace my profession by calling them proper "Contracts"), at a princely sum of $1200 a day. A sum I might add, that was immediately paid. Gladly, even.

Those are elite rates.

I can almost hear my mother chiding me about greed...it's not greed though. It's about Professionalism. It's about Respect.

I intend to gain that respect, among my peers, with my family, before God, & before myself.

If I can afford all the top shelf gear that the world has to offer in the meantime, so much the better. I'll need it too, I am certain. These are not normal jobs after all. It will take every bit of my skills, wit, & cunning to see my clients through.

Oh yes...& an edge. I may have gained an edge as well, though I have not yet made sense of it...as a girl I always marveled at the pretty patterns of the Henna. These...these markings that accompany my Contracts...I do not know what they mean. Some sort of "reward" they say, like the leg...but what does it mean? How does it work? A part of me says I should simply trust to God & take it as a blessing on faith.

I am historically rather bad at doing that however.

So, Mr. Lee asked some pertinent questions that I have had time to ruminate on. Further, my "benefactors" have made me an interesting offer that challenges some of my beliefs.

Good thing these entries are encrypted. If I ever can afford a Personal Assistant it would simply not do for them to find I was journalling like a distraught teenager on company time.

So, the first question: When is it valid to  take a man's life?

Self Defense of course. I am no pacifist. Most Sikhs are not, with storied careers in military pursuits since the first Guru. My brothers were quite fond of using their Karas as a fist pack, something I've done myself. As a people, carrying a fucking sword at all times is part of our religion! So yes, not only Self Defense but duty as well: A soldier who kills other soldiers is not "Murder." That applies, in my mind, to the work of a Security Specialist. A threat to my clients is a threat that is my solemn duty to...neutralize. With prejudice, if necessary. It is decidedly not cricket to kill anyone who provides a moment of inconvenience, or is perhaps a bit insulting.

That would be wrong.

I say that with such feeling not as a religious person, or a "weak woman" - I say that, often & with fervor, because if I did not I know that I would have my own trail of corpses.

Well, more than I already have.

The second question: Polluting the body that God made for me.

I don't eat meat. I don't cut my hair, or pluck my eyebrows, as dictated by the Khalsa. All the other rubbish as well, thank you very much. Nor do I consent to tattoos or piercings...however, I do have a bionic prosthetic. A war injury, any Sikh Veteran would do the same, right?

Now, my benefactors have begun to open the catalog. Implants. Augments...more than human. Better than God made you.

A better, more faithful person would refuse.

May God forgive me then.

Other than my illustrious Patron Lorenzo (no Surname), the clients I have taken thus far have all ended up dead or missing.

Now that I am aware of this "Time Travel/Multiverse" nonsense, the Missing part may not be as alarming as I would normally imagine.

Ships passing in the night, a moment of shared destiny, written by God's hand.

Or "Quantum Entanglement" if you prefer, or even "Bloody Bad Luck" that they were assigned to work with me.

I continue to train harder.

To what avail? I am confident I could beat most men in a fight, armed or unarmed...I have always been considered "bright" in Academics. My military & CPS career was even considered "promising" before I pissed it all away.

Yet I have doubts. I am eaten up by doubt, like a knife slowly twisting in my stomach - I question my every move, criticize every result, doubt every victory, & never forget every failure.

What was I thinking? I set a bloody monster loose on ordinary men. A man died while I watched, safely away from the scene...

Reflecting on my failures, I am left with few avenues going forward:

1) Begin medicating myself for Clinical Depression, even knowing that such medication will be the end of my professional career (such as it is).

2) Continue on these mad jobs, & barter more & more of my principles, sanity, & even my flesh for a chance to...

To what?

Unmake my mistakes? Not likely.

Take a bullet meant for someone else perhaps? Is suicide actually what I am after? A dramatic death to assuage my conscious?

It may well be.

I had lost just a touch more blood that I thought - nothing bed rest & a cup of tea will not cure, however it does put stress on my work calendar.

Since leaving the UK, jobs have come in rather steadily. The UAE is no stranger to scandal, & the Sheiks seem to care little about my infamy among the West. These Contract affairs to tend to take a toll on the mind & body, however...not to mention the spirit.

Oh, how I adore not mentioning that.

My wages for saving Vlad from certain death seem to be the option to augment my Mobile. Already quite useful, my benefactors assure me that I have only begun to see the applications of their cyber technology. This time, they promise they can make certain I will never need reading glasses! That, & gain a field of visual modes otherwise unavailable without high end optical equipment.

The price beyond what I have paid? The replacement of the lens, portions of the cornea, & some tiny wires in the optic nerve.

They swear I will have the same lovely brown eyes my mother gave me, & recovery time will be within hours.

This, this is how temptation seeps in. When desire prompts logic, which in turn erodes faith.

I understand that much of Sikhism is a rebellion against practices prevalent in India at the time, after Islam from the north crashed against Hinduism in the south.

I understand the aversion to piercings, or halaal food is an outgrowth of that rebellion. A relic of it's time, just as much of the Khalsa is.

Be that as it may, I still wear my "magic undergarments" as all Sikhs do. I maintain Khalsa (for the most part...), I avoid meat, I do not cut my hair or pluck my brows...

I don't alter the body God gave me.

Well, I don't get tattoos when offered by a client at least. I don't get a nose ring.

I do, howver, have a taste for these cybernetics. They make me better at my work. They give me an edge I desperately need on these Contracts.

They make me more More Than Human.

Or less. A lot less.

The Kara bracelet represents the shield worn on the arm of a Sikh warrior, part of the five Kakar that all Amritdhari are required to wear.

The Kanga, my little wooden comb - that one comes in handy the most, trying to tame my unruly mass of hair. The tiny two centimeter Kirpaan is rather less useful, however we all have to stand against Knife Crime, yes? God Save the Queen.

I don't cut or pluck my hair (quite unfashionable in the UK) - I already covered why I don't wear a turban elsewhere in my ramblings. I am also vegetarian, if not vegan.

All parts of a faithful Khalsa. A Model Amritdhari.

Oh, yes: I also allowed my Kara, a gift from my family, to be infiltrated with (presumably) Alien Technology.

In some ways, I find that more bothersome than the way I have defiled my body - that I might be a sinner, a failure, should surprise no one: in fact, it is a matter of public record.

That these Jobs chose to grant me this advanced technology by altering the symbol of my (admittedly archaic) faith? That seems more of a statement.

Let's take a look at it, shall we?

From casual observation, it appears to be a plain, steel bangle, suited to my admittedly mannish wrists.

Remove it however, & you will find a seam on the interior rim that contains...a shimmering black material.

Nanomachines? Dark Matter? Star Dust?

I have no idea. I only know that while wearing it I can "mark" people or things with crawling lines of this substance. Once so marked, I gain active telemetry on them, including the ability to see them & their surroundings, record all such surveilance, & even communicate with them if needed. This ability is enabled partially by signing a CPS Contract with them, I can assume that is an inherent programmed limit installed by my so-called "benefactors." Another gibe at my expense, similar to placing this technology in my Karra as opposed to say, a watch or mobile.

All of the other augmentations I have received are rather straightforward. I am uncertain if the henna patterns the black material creates is integral to the programming or guided by my subconscious? As many other things, I do not know,

I do know that others I have worked with have received far more unusual accoutrements. I have equally noted that receiving them has apparently had a substantial corrosive effect on their sanity.

I will not believe in magic or sorcery.

I will maintain my faith, & thus my sanity at all costs.

I will have answers from these "Harbingers" & the secret world they seem to hail from.

I will not - WILL NOT - ever become like them, or their mad lackeys, even if it costs me my life.

My God...

Watching this nonsense with Collins go viral is...terrifying, actually. At least the views of my own colossal blunder are dropping off.

That is to say, they are dropping off at the moment. If that musclebound buffoon drops my name? Disastrous. A fresh fucking disaster.

God...what would I do? Even a flat denial would decidedly not stop the so-called "internet sleuths" from hounding my every step. While I do try & keep everything above board, no buisness owner craves that level of attention. If they look long enough...they will find something.

What would the ramifications be? Would I lose access to my Vendors? Would my parents find out?

Encrypting my files on my hard drive is not good enough. I'll need to invest in a private, encrypted cloud storage for these "Contract" files - even then, I imagine I could still crcak them - one must assume someone else could as well.

Ugh...I can't sleep. In a way this is a welcome wake up call. My name & actions are known to a frightfully careless group of individuals that will undoubtedly draw the public eye. Frankly I am surprised it's taken this long. Should I compile blackmail files? In just thinking that, it stands to reason that someone else already has. Nothing springs to mind of actions I've taken that could be used against me to great effect (In this parallel reality anyway...God: what a bother). Should I retain a Lawyer? Another unfortunate expense when work is rather thin.

Deep breath, Inderpal. Stay on target.

BEGINNING UPLOAD...

1. Amarjeet goes to HK looking for a business partner who can register her business in HK and allow her to operate from the island. You find a local Hong Kong businessman named Hao Zheng who seems professional and trustworthy.

    

   When you go out drinking with him (which everyone insists is an important part of vetting potential business partners), you learn that he's also recently divorced and is taking it pretty hard. However, he seems competent, cheap, and you're confident he'll stay out of your way. Amarjeet supplies the vast majority of the cash needed for this little expansion, and everything seems to go swimmingly, at first

    

   You get an office, a visa, and even a few interested customers. Your first job is protecting a wealthy Chinese woman whose husband owns a major manufacturing plant in Heinan. While you are protecting her, there is a nearby smash-and-grab robbery by a large gang. You pull her out of the way of the escaping burglars, and she gets out of the encounter with only a tweaked shoulder. One month later, the man who hired you sues you for medical damages. This is a fairly standard occurrence in the world of private security. Unfortunately, it is at this juncture that you learn that Hao Zheng did not incorporate the business properly. Your insurance is useless, and your personal finances are not properly protected by your business entity.

    

    

    
2. [7:04 AM]

    

    

   What ensues is a long legal battle during which the vast majority of Amarjeet's personal finances must go to an team of lawyers who are specifically qualified to untangle such international business / financial / insurance troubles.

    

I will say one thing for these mad little mission - they can pay handsomely.

My mysterious vendors have been silent, merely sending a message to my Mobile that the technolgy of the Kara has been "updated."

That's hardly ominous at all. To date, the source of my cybernetic upgrades remains obscure. Infuriating. I detest this "Cloak & Dagger" nonsense.

However, worthless vendors aside, my other efforts have been rewarded - outstanding invoices are all paid in full, & the Inderpal Agency might remain solvent for another month before being litigated into oblivion.

Huzzah.

I wonder why I do this to myself? With my upgrades & skillset I am sure I could make do with some simple, dull, outpost. Triple Canopy, perhaps - work on the oilfields. My Arabic has cleaned up quite nicely since living in Dubai. Transalator perhaps?

The Sheiks do not seem as enamored with the telly as my fellow Brits. Hardly a mention of my disgraceful failures.

Or perhaps I could go public with my talents? I certainly never signed an NDIS for usage of my augments (which is odd unto itself). Seems to have worked out for this Vorobyova woman...

(The fucking nerve to mention my failings like that at the end!)

No...no, played the fool on stage once, I have no wish to do so again. Perhaps I have done enough. Perhaps a dull life in some backwater would suffice. Steady pay, monotonous tasks. No more bloody solicitors.

We will see. After this legal buisness is concluded, I may just give it all up. Mother & Father would simply have to understand. I think they would...less likely to collect my life insurance with a desk job I should think.

To Whom it may concern

First, let me thank you for choosing the Inderpal Agency to test your Simulation Software & technology - we strive to put any technology to the test in capacity as Security Consultants, & deliver a comprehensive report.

With that in mind, let me provide that now:

Graphics: Certainly one of the most immersive Virtual Reality simulations I have encountered. The interface was hardly noticable at all, & there was no loading time that I noticed. I commend the Devs in choosing not to include splash advertisement panels in the introduction: a bold choice from a business perspective, but one that did increase immersion. I will comment that some areas were not fully rendered, specifically the Forest/Trees which appeared as giant logs (similar to a low resolution game such as Minecraft), & a few sections of tunnel that obviously were not intended on the "Quest" path. These matters should be brought more in line with the detail of the stronghold once the game enters Early Access.

Interface: While the graphics were in most cases quite good, the interface itself is clearly bugged. One noticed a reticience in the controls when performing even the simplest actions, making what should be routine actions (movement, observation, investigation) become laborious & if I may say so - boring. These extended period of "lag" while the logic engine churned out the percentile chance of even the most basic functions (distance to target, running over flat ground) made what might have been a diverting experience something of a slog. I feel as if someone perhaps plays "Dark Souls" to much, & included difficulty for it's own sake.

Game Play: The challenge of the "Monkey" sprites seems off a touch. While quite "Tanky" to use the industry term, they were not especially threatening. Even with a high damage thresh hold, there was never any feeling of actual threat from these creatures. Additionally, the sprites reacted to attacks from the Players in some cleary flawed animations, with limbs rag dolling in an impossible manner, head shots being shrugged off while leg shots would "fine red mist" targets, & so on. Additionally, I must question the use of Monkeys as the filler enemy: I would guess that a First Person Shooter involving gunning down unarmed primates would be received rather poorly in the current social climate. Perhaps a less polarizing sprite could be used?

Obstacles: At several points we received Direct Messages without context when we failed to follow the rather 2 dimensional plot of the game or when I can only assume portions of the game we were expected to overcome simply hadn't been written in yet. Puzzles without answers, non-sensical traps, & monkeys literally raining from the sky just to name a few. These bugs culminated in the "Boss Fight" where the Boss bugged after merely standing up, & never acted again afterward. Obviously, this is a critical flaw as one of our group deafeated the Boss single handedly, without any teamwork or "phases" of battle required. I should also note that the design of the boss is rather reminiscent to a certain Boss used in a popular Blizzard/Activision product (Included you will find a screenshot of both your Boss & the one I reference) & it may behoove you to alter it a bit to avoid potential lawsuits.

In Conclusion: I found this game to be a bit of a rail road, with only one possible outcome, that being an exhausting slugfest at the end. There was never any sense of tension as most obstacles were easily avoided or deallt with, & there was only the thinnest veneer of story for those of us who crave deeper immersion in our entertainment media. As female gamers continue to enter the market, a nod to them would be advised, with more of the budget spent on writing, story, & perhaps a dash of humor rather than intense graphics & an extended grind of disposable enemies. More "Skyrim" less "Smash Brothers" if you like.

The Inderpal Agency gives "The Forlorn King" 2 out of 5 stars. I apoloigize if this critique seems a bit scathing, but our professional integrity demands we review products to the best of our ability. Know that we have every hope that the end product will be that much better when it reaches early access.

Thank you again for choosing Inderpal Consulting for this test.

P.S.: Seriously - ditch the monkeys.

Ugh...it is so terribly tacky to plaster my last name on everything. That's how it's done these days, I'm told - Branding

If I receive one more entreaty for a Business Seminar my head will explode.

At any rate, thanks to a spot of good fortune, it seems like I will soldier on through my litigation. If I continue to spearhead into the Hong Kong market is a matter to resolve another day. For now, the bills are paid, & I have engaged in some potentially lucrative side ventures.

Valiant Arms: Rescuing Mr. Vallant proved to be an excellent choice. With his machine shop, I have created a prototype sidearm I am more than a little proud of, i must say. Quite happy to let him take the credit on that one - I know the people who would buy these weapons, & I would rather not have them traced back to me, thank you.

Inderpal Essentials: A rather simple commission that I have turned into a cottage industry - that being, packing quaint little bags with sensible iytems. I actually find it quite relaxing, & have begun doing it while watching Brit Box. Not especially lucrative, but it does get the dreaded BRAND out there, doesn't it?

Consulting: I almost prefaced this with "Security" Consulting, but it seems my talents number more than a good aim & a swift kick in the head - I have been called upon to assist with some rather clever peripheral technology & an esteemed Parisian studio. Mother would be proud.

All in all, not the worst few months, migraines & unrelenting awfulness on these demented "jobs" aside. I even had a special commission done by the studio to my exacting specifications.

It looks good on me. Or more likely, it looks good while I prop it up from within. I have no sudden illusions that I have achieved some great pinnacle of feminine beauty by wearing a "007" style tuxedo, of course. I simply enjoy the look of professional competence a tailored suit provides.

"Fake it till you make it," they say. I will bumble along as a rather well dressed monkey in that regard, I am certain.

Every Day carry items are essential for the serious operator. Items that are discrete, compact, & as multipurpose as possible that you can wear for any occasion.

It is with this in mind that I have acquired a controlling interest in Fier'Te Sudios - Francois would roll in his grave if he knew we were moving forward with his base model without new flair & innovation, not that such a thing especially concerns me. If he wanted to manage his legacy better, he should have had me along for his little misadventure.

As it is, I shall have to compensate for my lack of artistic insight with practiced business acumen.

Regrettably, the "Dragon Fiber" he was known for has gone with him, no doubt a legacy of the Contracts. I have no way to reproduce it at this time, & have little faith that R&D on the suit I turned over will produce results.

No matter. Having a cadre of Parisian tailors with expertise in micro-electronics is it's own reward. The ledger is still well in the black at the moment, & I can afford to give them some time to produce a profit.

I am happy to say that after a few days waiting, no legal trouble from Offr appears to be forthcoming.

A protracted legal battle with a mega-corporation would be good for publicity if prohibitively expensive. It did cause me to review my legal team - I will need to tighten up that ship in due time. I can already see that having a solicitor that operates like a trained attack dog will undoubtedly be in my best interests.

In other news, forensic analysis of the Fier'Te "Dragon Thread" & the Humbug "Proper Bindings" has shown expected similarities

1) A monomolecular bonding process that increases the durability of common materials.

2) An incredible lack of imagination that almost certainly led to the death of both men.

The process requires so called "black tech" namely nano-manufacturing, so will not be able to be mass produced. Fortuitously, jail breaking the ferro fluid in my profaned Kara has resulted in a new scientific wonder - a Microchip that can both enhance materials & provide telemetry at any distance.

Normally, I would proceed immediately to Offr Red to see who is buying...no, I think not.

Instead, I shall boycott Offr Red & see if my new Contacts can function as effective sales liaisons.

I may have sunk far in my morals, but I will not stand idly by & support such as they any longer.

Engaging with the larger world of Metahuman Contractors has proven rewarding & troubling in nearly equal measures.

On one hand, they have access to incredible wealth & a willingness to throw it away with alacrity.

On the other, they present unknown risks & have an uncanny tendency to mettle in my affairs.

Reading that, it is clear that I do not consider myself one of them, isn't it? Certainly, I have received several cybernetic augments, & have a suite of "black tech" at my disposal...that doesn't make me a Metahuman though...does it?

Surely anyone with sufficient drive & discipline could do as I do, with the right equipment.

At no point do I gush fountains of weaponized gore, or devolve in some grotesque fashion.

I certainly do not splatter across the floor like spilled paint, leaving others to handle the matters at hand.

Existential questions aside, the current arrangements have proven quite profitable regardless. In a fashion that would have been impossible considering my "burn notice" status among Western Governments. As the stakes of these mad "Contracts" become ever higher, I am left to wonder: why did I not simply leverage my new associates to clear my status? If parallel realities are fact & not fiction, surely one where I had never blundered could be arranged? Or barring that, at least an organized campaign to redeem my tarnished honour?

Predictably, the flaw lies within myself. No matter what was done, I would know the truth. Is it pride or merely bull-headed stubbourness that would not allow me to be forgotten or forgiven for the mistakes of my past?

Both, I should think, as well as a constant reminder - unlike my colleagues, my skills are not merely granted; they are hard won & then hammered into perfection by the trials & tribulations that I have endured. To rob me of my shame & rage would render me powerless. That I cannot allow.