It's fitting, this final exposure. Taking away the mask of what he'd wanted to be, what he'd hid behind for so many years. No more need for it now, is there?

Accept what he is. Turn that to greater purpose, in the hands of someone who understands him. His demons, his weakness. No illusions about what he is or what he can do.

Isn't that better than the Legion? Than the people who mistakenly put their trust in him?

At this point, he'd do anything to take that burden off of himself -- I would say it's your decision, but you don't like making those. -- and when the Faceless offers its blood? It seems such a small price to pay.

There is no metallic tang, as he would expect. It burns, like cheap whiskey going down, but then there's a sweetness. As though to reassure him he'd made the right choice. The last choice. Seconds pass before the pain begins, an ache that starts in the marrow of his bones and tears outward. Everything grows heavy, but there are no screams, nothing beyond surrender to the pain.

This will be his purpose now. Not as a soldier, but a true monster.