He stands on the rooftop looking out over the city, a gun in each hand. The fight to get to this place had been long and bloody and in the end, all for nothing.

He was too late.

He closed his eyes and breathed slowly trying to calm the storm raging inside him. His one thought now, his one focus, was to find the bastards who had done this terrible, horrible thing and make them pay. He would track them down one by one, no matter how long it took.

He'd heard it said that 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', he smiled grimly to himself, hell hasn't met John Reese yet…

He looked up into the sky there was a storm brewing; dark clouds were gathering, reflecting his mood. The rising wind ruffled his hair and his coat flapped like a cape.

He turned and knelt to hold the body, one last time, of the one person who had given his life meaning. Tears threatened to fall and he tasted bile as his rage rose once more in his throat. His anguished howl carried away on the wind. After a few minutes he gently places the body back on the ground.

Picking up his weapons he stands and turns to face the cityscape below him, silently he makes a promise to Harold and himself. This time he won't stop until they were all gone or he would die trying.

'No More Mr Nice Guy' he vowed as he turned and walked away from the rooftop and Harold's body.