He walks into the scene, his sword drawn. The sorrowful rain bounced and played across the rim of his hat, the slight curve of which made the pooling rain drip off the front. Taking a few steps forward, he seemed to be weighed down, tired almost. The hem of his long, black trench coat brushed against the soaked floor. Raising his head to reveal brilliantly blue eyes, first a smile, then laughing...terrible, maniacal laughter spilled forth from his lungs as he brought the sword up to neck level, inverted it and drove it through his gut. Still laughing, he fell forward onto his knees, puddles of rainwater splashing up either side of him, turning a foreboding red hue as the consequences of his deed mixed with the small pools of virgin water. One last final breath drawn, he whispered softly "...And so I die a content man..."