[He's not even going to try and pretend that he can. If Nida's a trained soldier like he's claiming to be, then he's well aware of all the shit in the world (any world) that's messed up, and Clint doesn't believe in hiding the bad things from a person who can take them. He rubs his face with his open hand, putting pressure on his temples to ward off what might be a headache forming, sighing heavily again.]

You got that wrong - they don't become soldiers, they become... automatons. Robots. Brainwashed to kill at a command, refuse forming any kind of bond because bonds are weakness, lethal at any distance with something as little as a paperclip. Controlled and molded into good little death-dealing drones that can slip in and out of personae like they're putting on a shirt, because they have no personality of their own.

[He pauses.]

You're lucky. It takes a pretty extraordinary person to break out of that. It sounds like you got the shit end of the stick, but at least it wasn't that.