They were all dead.

It was humbling to think of what had driven me this far. What I had thought was a random act of violence had turned out to be so much more. My wife, my daughter, both killed by the hands of junkies, junkies released like dogs by the bitch Horne's hand.

Was it just to believe that Horne had deserved what she had gotten?

Listen to me, talking about justice. My battle against the demons of this city had left more blood, bodies, and bullet casings than New York had seen in years. I was the most wanted criminal ever to walk the streets. There was nothing just in my actions. The fact that I had single-handedly brought down a deadly, corrosive drug ring was of no consequence. Whatever sins I had committed in this unholy crusade destroyed any good I might have achieved.

But I didn't care.

The ghosts of my past were vanquished at last. My family would not torment my sleep anymore. But at the same time, they were just as real as ever. Their deaths had been avenged, but they were still dead. That simple truth could never be changed.

It didn't take the police any time at all to show up. Bravura's voice rang out through the suddenly still night, but I didn't hear him. The gun in my hand was cold as death, and felt as if it were frozen to my numb fingers. The heat of the moment had passed, chilled by the constant wind of the present. I felt like I been holding a gun all my life.

The city of New York glittered below like diamonds on black velvet. I had seen it hundreds of times before, but it never looked more beautiful than it did now. The cancer that was Valkyr had been cut out, not surgically, but cut out none the less. Somewhere down below, there was a man feeling a little safer, there was a mother who didn't worry quite as much about how her child would turn out, there was a baby who slept a little more obliviously. Wasn't that enough? If I could say that my horrific battle against the night had delivered that little bit of comfort into everyone's lives, wasn't that enough?

No.

But it was enough for now.

I knew I was going to hell. There was no doubt about that. You can't just kill hundreds of people, no matter how bad they are, and ask God for forgiveness. When I died, I was going right to the bottom floor, there to be met by a new form of demon. But looking up at the clear night sky, seeing the stars beyond, I began to think that, though God wouldn't forgive me, maybe He'd given me a brief glimpse of what it was like. Maybe, standing up here on this building, I was a bit closer to heaven.

SWAT closed in.

I released my finger from the trigger, and forced myself to drop the gun in my hand. And then it was all over.

The storm had lost its frenzy.