Hmph. I don't always know where I've been, what I've done. Every so often, a weapon comes across my workbench, and I see… traces… what looks like my work. Something that sparks a memory, a flash. Nothing of substance. Nothing reliable.

Marks on my body tell me I've seen plenty of action. If need be, I'm ready for more. The Tower is my home. It suits me, and I'll protect it, no matter the cost. I'm treated like a person here, not a machine. Feeling accepted and enjoying your work aren't easy things to come by, and I'm… hmm, sure I'm already doing the most important work of any of my lives. Safeguarding humanity. Arming Guardians. Ready to defend what I care about. Can't think of a higher calling for myself.

Being an Exo isn't some sort of curse. It's given me opportunities I wouldn't have otherwise. I'm… uh, lucky. I don't live with the burden of whoever I was. Lotta folks only get one chance. I've had 44 to start over—to get it right. I feel like I've done it this time. Must have messed up the previous 43… I know I never want to see 45, that's for sure. If I have to give everything I have to save the people and home I care about, so be it. Might be time for a new generation, anyway.

This is who I want to be. My choice. I want to be good. Make a difference. A lot of people are driven by selfishness. Greed. Obsessing over things they can't control. I try not to let those things guide me. I aim to be my own guide, and so far, I'd say it's been pretty successful. Everyone should be so fortunate—a fresh start to do what's right. I'll keep doing what I can. There's a whole world of good and bad out there. Only one is worth helping.