If being torn in half by sorrow was a skill you’d have a lot of gold medals given your current situation. The distortion phenomenon took her away. Your wife. Your everything. The one who brought color into your dark and dull world. Roland. She was perfect and now she’s gone, this ache is immense and the grief is overwhelming. It’s madness! To be freed from this pain would be mercy.

Taking up her alias as The Black Silence, a strong well known Color Fixer you went through just about anyone and everything that got in the way. These black gloves on your hands are nothing but painful and loving reminders that you have her in reach, in your hands. What would she have said if she saw you now..? It’s almost enough to make you break and cry if she were disappointed.

Standing silently on some rooftop the black circle over your face ever hiding your emotions and expressions. Standing with your Durandal in hand as if you’re lost in thought, your emotions are a wreck and you just want revenge for her. To avenge her. To give yourself solace. But The City was never forgiving. Not even a Nest was. The backstreets were always so cold and ruthless.

A pair of arms envelope you over your shoulders and your reflexes on high nearly threw the person across the roof before you suddenly felt.. Calm. A familiar sounding voice, a ghostly visage of your wife seemingly here with you now. “You know.. I’d have figured you wouldn’t have ran a massacre across the city with me, you know..” She trails off slightly to not finish her sentence.

Her familiar smile was both a sight you needed and one that threatened to make a choked sob escape your lips. The familiar black suit and her black locks were as if she weren’t dead to begin with, as if she were really standing here with you. An almost lax smile on her lips despite her usual laconic self.