 Darkness slowly turned into light once more, blinding red, fiery light. At first it was amazing, the sun rising to greet his vision, warming his bones, just as everything else since the accident, though, it was a false warmth, a false feeling of hope. Sure, the first couple times he managed to turn his head to view the earth, he was filled with the hope that he could be brought back, that somehow his comrades would find him and bring him home. Now he's glad they didn't, because it would have meant their end. It somehow tuned into the radio, too. Over the years he heard a constant stream of broadcasts from his home, oh what the world had become. It was probably just to lure him in though, get him to fall, but he wouldn't. Not now, not ever. He wasn't sure exactly how it had happened or exactly what it was. One day he was on his shuttle, a secret flight into space, and next, well, he was where he is now, and this presence was around him. At first he thought it was a figment of his imagination, a way to keep himself sane in the cold void of space, but as he began to drift towards the earth he began to realize he wasn't drifting, he was being pulled, and the closer he got the stronger the presence was, and it felt wrong. So he stopped it. He's not sure how he did that either, but he stopped himself, stopped his unnatural inertia, caught himself in the earth's orbit. No, the presence had raged, but what he didn't expect was for it to defend itself so well. It wrapped itself around him and his suit. Not something solid, just a presence, and it was that presence that had made him unstoppable. Anything he touched broke before his velocity and density. Even those who were sent out to collect him. They could do nothing but fail or die, but you know what, I stopped it. I saved my comrades, I saved us, or rather I've, guess I've just halted what was inevitable, but I'm not going to let go, even though I'm trapped in this body, in this suit. I won't let go. Sometimes I even gain control, I just smash my visor. I try to expose it to the vacuum of space when the presence is so ingrained in me that it would kill us both, but it's too smart for that. Too old, and too smart, so I will continue to hold. I will continue to be the harbinger of death, whose blade hovers above the throat of the earth, and on the day this son of a bitch dies, or the day this presence realizes it can't beat us, I'll finally come home.