Niccolo Croatoan: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

San Francisco was doomed. In fact, it was already dead. Every single living thing- even the birds, rats, and insects- dead. And my name carved into the power line closest to the city's center. That should throw him off. The anonymous detective, L. They say he's the best in the world. I'm almost honored that he's after me. I would be, if he weren't a heathen like the rest of them. Everyone deserves to die. Mevolent will bring the Faceless Ones back to this Earth, and I will kill each and every living thing that stands in his way.

Why do I always end up in Manhattan when I am tired and weak? What is it that draws me here, time and again? Aretha. Of course. But why? I should distance myself from her, because I know she'll only come looking for me. I cannot burden her with my problems. I should just kill myself now, while I am still sane...

That homeless person in the corner- I bet he doesn't believe in the Faceless Ones. I bet he doesn't even know they exist. Look at him there, shivering pathetically. And how he begs- for money, food, shelter, even an extra penny. Does he honestly think any of it matters? He can't keep living like this. One more meager meal isn't going to help. But he deserves to die slowly, for not believing in the gods. I'll just place a filter over him- he will appear completely invisible to everyone passing by, and he'll die believing that no one in this entire city cares enough to spare him a coin.

My God, there are so many people suffering. Is this why she became an assassin? So that she could save them all? Well, she always seemed to feel like she had to somehow save the world. I swear, she cares about everyone. She'd die to save a complete stranger if presented with the opportunity. I need to make sure that she survives this war. Somehow, I have to make sure she's alright, even long after I'm dead. 

On this street, there's a lost little girl. So innocent, so helpless. Completely irresistible  I'll bet she doesn't know about the Faceless Ones either. I'll lead her to an alleyway and smash her skull to pieces, then leave her to rot. She'll be picked on by the local scavenging animals, and by the time her parents come for her, she'll be unrecognizable.

I killed a child. A child. By God, I've killed a child. Is there still time to heal her...? Oh, thank the stars. Her skull was rather easy to re-assemble, as was her brain. And she's lost a lot of blood, but she's still breathing, if only barely. I'll call an ambulance for her, and then leave again. I ought to lock myself up somewhere where there are no people. A place I can never get out of, where no one will ever find me.

Ooh, now I've thought of something really good. Really, really good. That Aretha girl has caused Mevolent enough trouble in the past- attempted espionage, escaping, helping her friends escape, and general resistance of the Faceless Ones. She deserves pain. Heaps of it. And for the first time I had a reason to thank what I consider to be my weakest side. He knew exactly what would make her scream.

"Oh my God," I muttered in disbelief, once I'd finally come to my senses and stopped just gaping. Oh my God. What the Hell did I... Aretha stood several meters away from me in Central Park, her face more completely dead than I had ever seen it- more so even than when her aura disappeared- and between us was Marina's broken body. She had died back in Ireland, and it hadn't occurred to me that Aretha still didn't know... And good Lord, the things I had done to her body- it was so torn apart and disfigured. Almost unrecognizable. But that was Aretha's best friend; it didn't matter how mangled the body was. She knew. She knew. And in about three seconds, she went from unfeeling to more furious than I had ever seen a living person. Ever. I could practically feel the heat coming off her in waves. Her eyes met mine, the eyes of some savage demon wearing her face, and I knew it didn't matter how powerful I was; she was going to kill me. And I would let her, for as long as I could. I deserved it. I needed it. She lept at me like a lion, and when she dragged me to the ground by my neck and dug her claws into my eyes, it didn't feel like pain. It felt like justice.