Shot Through the Heart

Re-write Prologue

Sleep well, my dear, under the bows of the magnolia. The world was far too unkind to you, you who brings more joy to it than it ever gave to you.

Sleep well, my sweet, under the flowering poppies. The evils you stood against crept back into their shadows, they could not win against you.

Sleep well, my love, under the light of a thousand stars. Your families, the one you lost and the one you made, will wait for you until you wake.

We will wait for you.

We will always wait for you.

The Informer Newsroom, Intern Division, 3:49 am, 9 Years After the Lebedev Incident

"But sir, sir, there must be more, it can't... sir, it can't just end like that...it can't..."

The young intern sat hunched over a computer, the desk and walls around him scattered with papers and books, interviews and articles. Some were coffee stained and at least five to-go coffee cups lay strewn about the mess. The blue glow of the computer illuminated his face as he looked up at his superior. His face was unshaven, his clothes and glasses were disheveled and askew. His face, gaunt with lack of sleep, held a curious mixture of unease and sadness as he looked from the computer to his superior.

The computer showed an image of a woman, no more than 25, as she smiled back at the camera. More images below showed the same woman hugging various other people. Two similar looking brunet men smiled as they each held one of her arms and she looked up, caught by the shutter mid laugh, pure joy on her face. Another showed her hugging two blonde men as she smiled at the camera, the men smiled too, but at her instead.

His superior sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. He had been up for just as long and looked no better than the young man who had now turned his attention back to the computer, more images came up on the screen, all had the same woman, some with a large black cat with a white star on its chest, some with a woman with long black hair, some with a young boy in a sailor's hat, still more with the men. She smiled in all of them.

What a smile she had.

"That's all of it. That's all the information we have been cleared to have. I warned you it was a hard story to cover, and you didn't believe me." He looked at the walls, then the ceiling, trying to think of something other than the thoughts that swirled in his mind.

The intern looked back down at his computer and stared at the first picture again, his eyes not focusing as he lost himself to the hurricane of thoughts that plagued him. His superior reached down and closed the laptop with a sigh.

"I think that's enough for now, you should get home and rest."

Who decides the turn of time?
Who decides the fates that befall the people we love, the people we hate?
Who decides to steal those we hold most dear?
Fate, Luck, Circumstance. All befall us in our lives. We cannot change that.
But we do still hold some power.
What we do with the hand we are dealt?
That is entirely up to us.