Rain poured down upon the small group of people standing huddled together around the fresh hole in the ground. The sound of the raindrops on black umbrellas turned into a hypnotising drum-blur of sadness. 

"...Let us commend Jim to the mercy of God...", the priest was nearing the end of his speech.

"The small amount of people that were present at the burial ceremony do not do my father justice", Vik thought as he clenched is teeth. 

"..We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life."

A tear ran down Vik's left cheek.

In the hours before the bullet that took the life of his father most of his father’s friends had already fallen. The war against New York had been swift and efficient.

"Do you have some last words, Mr. Vik?", the gentle words of the priest pulled his mind back into wet plane of existence. 

He looked at the old man. No. He looked through him. The news about his father struck him hard, but the initial shock that almost let him to despair had quickly been replaced. Replaced by something much darker.

"Yes, thank you John."

Vik took a good look at the dozen people standing in the rain. His voice was hoarse from the lack of sleep but as he spoke the words echoed strength. Every sentence was like a hammer striking metal, forcefully turning the stubborn material into a sharp and deadly weapon.

"You raised glasses with my father when he celebrated success..."

"and you stayed true to my family when the winds were less favourable."

"You have raised me as if I was your own kin…”

“and now my education has been completed by the hands of my father’s enemies.”

“They taught well…”

“and my vengeance will be inevitable.”

Silence fell and for a moment the tears from the sky ruled the lands of sound. Then Vik continued in a whisper.

“They created a mad dog…”

“I will be relentless…”

“I will be merciless…”

“And they are all going to die.”