You've been sitting alone in your office for too long.

The Overseer - your boyfriend - had stepped away for just a moment, to go investigate an oddity in the security systems. He promised it would be just a moment. But it's been fifteen minutes (it feels like hours, days) and he's not back yet.

You rise to your feet, grabbing your sword just in case, and head through the hallways. There's a strange quiet - no bustle of employees, and the faint hum from the walls is all but gone. Your every nerve is alert, on edge.

And then you make it to the hallway near one of the back entrances, and you stop.

The first thought you have is denying, broken, half-formed. Mentally chastising the housekeeping staff for leaving a pile of broken computer parts on the floor. But of course that's not what's there, and even as your mind fights it, one by one you pick out details. An arm, snapped and shattered, cables spilling free. The torn remnants of a black suit.

His head, open-eyed and staring at nothing, the half that's still intact looking as calm and sure as he ever did in life.

You draw back, shaking, staring, staring. There's footsteps nearby, but you can barely hear over the rushing in your ears. You cannot break your gaze from his face. You cannot see anything else.

But grief transmutes itself, for a moment, as the footsteps draw near. After, you will let yourself mourn. You will wear black for him, and cut your hair, and cease to smile. But now.

Now there is rage, and vengeance.

You draw your sword, and when they arrive - the heroes of the city, the protagonists, the murderers - you are ready.