The cycle of revenge spins like a relentless storm, whispering through the ruins of a world long fallen, where grief and rage intertwine like thorned vines. In The Last of Us Part 2, the heartache of Ellie and Abby mirrors each other, a dance of shadows where one's pain echoes the other's fury. Ellie, haunted by Joel's brutal end, chases vengeance with trembling hands, her nightmares echoing his final cries—a burden she carries from the warmth of Jackson to the blood-soaked streets of Seattle. Yet, Abby, driven by the loss of her friends, mirrors that same compulsion, her rage a wildfire sparked by Joel's actions years before. It's easy, you know, to side with Ellie after journeying with her and Joel in Part 1; their bond feels like an old friend, making Joel's absence a gaping wound. But Abby's story unravels a parallel truth: violence begets violence, and in this desolate landscape, no soul emerges unscathed.

Tommy stands as a ghost in this tale, a man fractured by loss. Joel's brother, he bore witness to the ambush that stole Joel's life, a moment etched in guilt and helplessness. Remember how they rekindled their strained bond at Jackson's power plant? That unspoken trust, forged in hardship, allowed Joel to confide his dark secret—saving Ellie at the cost of countless lives. Tommy, ever loyal, vowed to carry that burden to the grave. Yet, after Joel's murder, Tommy's pragmatism crumbled; he slipped away from Maria, leaving a note as if saying, 'I'll handle this mess myself.' His trail through Seattle was a bloody one, littered with Wolves he felled in cold rage, each kill a step toward Abby. By the end, Ellie and Tommy stood at the precipice, ready to let Abby live for Dina's sake, but fate, like a cruel jester, threw them back into the fray when Abby retaliated for her fallen comrades—Jordan, Leah, Manny, Mel, and Owen. The cycle, plain as day, just keeps spinning.

Tommy's descent is arguably the most harrowing. He emerged from Seattle miraculously alive, but injuries left him a shell, goading Ellie into pursuing Abby once more. It's ironic, isn't it? Tommy pointing Ellie to Santa Barbara inadvertently sparked a slave uprising against the Rattlers, saving Abby in the process. But back at the farmhouse, Tommy's unquenched thirst for revenge cost him Maria, his marriage dissolving into silence. Now, he's adrift, a man consumed by ghosts, unable to move on while Ellie chose mercy, sparing Abby despite the nightmares. What if Tommy greets her with shame? His story feels like a loose thread, begging for closure in a potential Part 3. Could he ever find peace, or is he doomed to wander, rage whispering in his ear like an old, unwelcome companion?

In the end, the game paints a stark portrait: revenge is a hungry beast, devouring everything in its path. Ellie's choice to walk away offers a glimmer of hope, but Tommy's unresolved anguish lingers, a testament to how violence scars deeper than any physical wound. At the end of the day, it's a tough pill to swallow—how one act of vengeance chains to another, leaving souls like Tommy stranded in the shadows. What path remains for those who've lost everything to the storm of retribution?