He’s done things that he’s regretted. Things that come back and haunt him every once in a while: Acts of violence both during the War and after, the creation of the Accelerator, things he would rather not speak of again.
He thinks being a doctor, being a healer, will fix things. But sometimes it is not enough. He looks at his hands and they are still redder than they were the first time-
But then the door opens. He can already hear Valkyrie’s pained laugh, that damnable Pleasant’s lower murmur. Somewhere behind him, his assistants are fooling about, young and carefree.
They trust him, he realizes, amid the chaos. They trust him- He of bloodied hands and shattered mind, he who has brought things into this world that none dare speak of, the coward, the creator, the architect of destruction, but-