Fine. You want to play? We'll play. Another waltz, as you called it last time, with that sick sense of humor. As sick and twisted as the rest of you, right?

    So here we are again, lashing and hating. Is this a hobby to you? It must be. It seems that all the pain you've brought me is so carefully orchestrated, with the obsessive perfection only a psychopath can manage. It always seems you have everything ready when we meet, after all. Even when I'm sure I take you completely by surprise, you're ready, always slinging out that one barbed line that hits me the hardest at the moment. Omicron, Starbase Rugby... Perfect, just for me.

    Why me? If nothing else, tell me this. Out of all the people, poor, defenceless sparks you slaughtered to quench your sick thirst for blood, why me? Why did I survive? Oh, I've heard all the slag with, "It was a mistake." I know you, X. You don't make mistakes. Especially not something as elementary as leaving a mech alive. So, what made me special? You could’ve just killed me, like you did everyone else.

    You could've killed me, but you didn't. And I think I hate you even more because of that. You let me wake up to the nightmare you made of my life ever since. Primus, you had it all calculated, didn’t you? When I’d wake up, what I’d see... Do you want to know what it was like to come to? To see Omicron in ruins? The fires, the bodies, the fear on their faces? Should I tell you?

    Or how about the hellish inferno that you made of Starbase Rugby? Or the horror of Colony Tektan? Or the pure bloodbath of the Esekian outpost? You want to know, or do you already? And everywhere, you took special care of what I valued. And then you made sure I'd notice it. That's how you work, after all! "Torture him, hurt him, take everything from him, but for Primus' sake, don't kill him!"

    Slag you! Why couldn't you kill me?! Why did I have to wake up to that hell?! You spared everyone else, why not me?!

    I can just see you now, you bastard, smirking over the pain you've caused me. Well, keep that thought, because one day I'll catch up to you, and I'll teach you true suffering. If I could I'd take from you what you've taken from me, but you don't have those things. You're a freak! Monsters don't love, so how could I expect you to understand the pain you put me through? How could I expect you to care?

    You talk of scientists and experiments, and I guess some of the guilt lies on them. Not that they can be punished beyond what you did to them. I'd say they got what they deserved. But you couldn't rest there, could you? You had to take your revenge on everyone, whether they were guilty or not! And me in particular.

    What do you want from me, Rampage? Why are you doing this? Don't you even know, yourself? I wouldn't be surprised; philosophising never seemed one of your strong sides. I guess you gave it up when you became a monster; along with compassion, honour, any semblance of respect for life...

    Did you make me for my rage? Did you sense something in me that you needed, that could only be amplified through Omicron? That's it, isn't it? You wanted me for a kick. You became addicted to whatever was within me, as you became addicted to the suffering of your victims. Why? Does it glaze over your own pain? In that case, you must be numb by now, with the lives you've taken, and yet you continue.

    You're a junkie, always searching for the next fix. But your drug happens to be death, and you don't need to pay to anyone. Except me. I'm your pusher, creep, and I'll make you pay for your highs. Thought I'd be a nice kick? Well, think again.

    Addictions are lethal, X. This one will kill you.