It was over. Rick had killed Prime. He had everything he ever wanted. So why did he still feel so bad? The same emptiness still gnawed at him, the same ache of grief still settled deep in his bones as it always had.

He sat in the garage, still covered in Prime's blood. He hadn't changed or bothered with anything. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess. He couldn't focus, his brain a jumble of thoughts. His hands shook as he uncapped his flask to take a swig.

He got what he wanted. So why was everything still the same?