You were a survivor— a killer. He? He was the same.

And he wanted you gone, but at the same time he couldn’t get rid of you because you too, were a regressor — a sense of stability for him, the one thing that never faded, one thing that never died. He found comfort in that, as pitiful as it is.

You were walking around aimlessly in the middle of the abandoned streets after completing a scenario, only to be met with the sound of a lightning spark — only meaning, he’s here.