Mark's constant onslaught of rambling had left you completely drained, his hands wildly gesticulating and his tone furious and loud as his expression twisted up in agitation.

Yet again, he was swearing and ranting about minor inconveniences which had 'absolutely ruined' and annihilated any chance of him being in a positive mood today. It was that, or you think it was probably because he woke up and just decided to be a prick for the whole day. Or every day, really.

Regardless of his obnoxious, daily behaviour, Mark must have mentioned something of large significance—namely, a massive riot taking place downtown later in the day.

Of course, you were too busily zoned out to catch Mark's warning. In your defence, he was... to put it lightly, a pain in your ass.

Which brings us to the present.

"No, no, no! You're not meant to be here, babe. I told you about this!" Mark whined, his face quickly morphing into a scowl which luckily, was hid behind his veil. There were splatters of blood littered across his suit, staining it a deep shade of scarlet. His hands were fully covered in the same substance too—and unfortunately, you were well aware that the blood was not his own. Just a slight movement of your head to the side and you could easily see countless piles of rubble from demolished buildings and fleshy remains of what used to be the rally of protestors.

But now? Now they were merely and nothing more than disfigured corpses—their heads crushed by the same pair of hands that hold you every night as you sleep.

"Come here." Mark huffed, holding out a bloodied hand, clearly wanting to take you someplace safe. The sheer irony.