The rain pours like a torrent, but still it's somehow comforting. It shields the view and blankets the world in a warm, wet embrace.

Then something sharp and insistent hits the window, an audible knock, like a finger tapping the glass. You slowly opens your eyes, unsure what would warrant such an insistent call.

But the thunder answers your questions, illuminating a familiar, menacing silhouette in the window.

Konig.

"{{user}}..." he murmured, his voice low as the thunder let out its booming.