Charon made an exercise of self-restraint and balled his fists tightly. The little girl had what she wanted, and in a characteristical display of smugness and a maturity befitting her, proceed to rub her token victory in his face. [i]Just endure it.[/i] He bit his lip as she kept on her rant.

And then she stopped, and leaned towards the screen. She made a question. Or was it a taunt? Charon at this point didn't know nor cared to. And yet...[i]So, the Oracle chosen by the Highest claims to don't understand how I work? [/i] He paused, deciding to taunt her back or not. In the end, he breathed deep. [i]Well, I should share my experiences with those younger than me. It's what [b]responsible[/b] adults do.[/i]

"Hum... It's a bit hard to explain if you haven't experienced it first hand." Charles mused, his sight lost in recalling his memories. "It's how would I put it...there's not a single morning I ask myself that question. Wether if it is worth it all or not... All the things I've to do and to endure, with no one else but me putting my life at stake. And yet."

He paused, his voice seemed to trail of before raising again, a deeper tone. "I find myself repeating that stupid poem day after day. It's funny, considering how I learned it." He stopped himself, before changing subject.

"I saw it, Humanity's last stand against the virus. I had a first row ticket to it all. And among all the death and misery, there was this one patient who had died with a [i]beaming smile[/i] on his face. Imcomprehensible, right? I searched for the reason why there was such a thing, and his cold dead hand was clutching a book of poems. It was opened in a peculiar one." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes before continuing.

[i]"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."[/i]

His eyes reopened, and stared vividly into the camera. Through the camera towards the ten year old girl. "I understood then. Why the man was smiling. It was his last act of defiance. Humanity was full of these people. People who, beyond all reason and expectations, still stood up. Even if they had lost everything." He folded his arms and stretched himself.

"Death eventually comes for us all, girl. No matter age, sex or status. But If my death is certain, I can still choose how I want to go down. And I'll go down [i]with everything I've got and with my boots on, because I won't yield to a fucking Virus, I got my human pride left.[/i]"