>you sit huddled in the corner of a dingy, stinking flophouse... crying
>it's all you do when you're alone, and you don't know if you'll ever stop
>it's been six months since you were taken
>six months since you watched him die
>six months ago, yet you replay that night over and over again
>you and him were sleeping together in bed, when you woke to noises downstairs
>you woke him up and he heard it too
“Burglars!” you whispered quietly
>”Let's go take care of business,” he replied
>you jumped into his arms and turned into your rifle form
>he slotted in a mag and chambered a round
>he quietly walked down the stairs and turned to the sound of the noise
>two burglars with guns trying to steal the TV
>he gently strokes your trigger and you send two rounds of death at each of them
>you watch as they both drop to the ground, content in a job well done
>suddenly, you hear a gunshot behind you
>he drops you as he falls to the floor
>you hit the floor and spin to see him
>there was another burglar behind you two that you didn't notice
>he puts two more rounds into your owner
>”Motherfucker, that's what you get for killing my boys.”
>you never get a chance to do anything, as the burglar grabs you and runs out of your house
>you never got a chance to mourn the man you loved
>you never got a chance to save him
>you never got a chance to avenge him
>the head burglar took you back to his crime den, and tossed you in a corner
>he seemed to forget you even exist
>you don't dare show yourself as anything but a rifle when people are around
>speaking of people, you hear a car pull up blasting loud music
>you turn back into your rifle form, hoping they still forget you
>a large group comes in, with alcohol and drugs
>they start partying, no doubt celebrating doing something awful to someone else
>after a few hours, the party winds down 
>people are either mellowed out or passed out 
>you hear a car pull up out front
>then the sound of a door getting kicked in
>and then strange gunshots, like none you've ever heard before
>people start getting up and grabbing guns
>nobody looks in your direction
>the criminals start shooting back at whoever started shooting
>the gunfire is deafening
>you still hear the strange gunshots though
>and the regular gunshots grow fewer and fewer
>the head burglar comes running into the room you're in
>he's looking around wildly
>he spots you leaning in the corner
>no
>please no
>he runs over and grabs you
>”This'll take care of that freak for sure,” he says
>he roughly works your bolt, chambering a round
>he points you at the door
>his hands are shaking, aim is all over the place
>the door opens
>standing in the doorway is a person... or at least you think it's a person
>they're clad in a strange black and gray suit, almost looks armored
>they're holding a rifle... you think
>it's rectangular and chunky and black, with glowing lights on it
>you get aimed at the intruder
>”Eat lead, motherfucker!” the man holding you yells
>he pulls your trigger
CLICK
>at least you get a small act of vengeance against the man who took your life away from you
>the intruder fires his rifle
>you drop to the floor
>the boneless and squishy thump you hear tells you that the man who stole you is dead 
>you're pointed at the strange intruder, wondering what he's going to do
>as you watch, his entire outfit and his rifle start to glow with a pink-purple light
>it grows almost unbearably bright, and then vanishes
>where the intruder was standing is now a man
>he looks vaguely familiar, maybe one of your old neighbors or something 
>he stretches a bit and pops his neck
>”Man, can't do that again.”
>he looks down at you
>he smiles softly
>”Hey, Verena.”
>in shock, you change into person form
“H-h-how do you know my name?”
>”Relax, I'm not going to harm you.”
>he reaches down to you and gently helps you to your feet
>”I was sent back here for you. Sent back to save you from these people.”
>he gestures with one hand to the bodies that scatter the house
“Who... who are you?”
>”You know who I am.”
>he reaches out and gently brushes the side of your face
>exactly like he used to
>like he used to
“A-Anon!”
>you run into his arms, crying
>you don't know how this is possible, but you don't care
>against his shoulder you cry out six months of heart ache, of mourning, of loss
>after awhile, you're all cried out 
>he gently wipes the tears from your face
“I didn't recognize you,” you say, just to fill the silence
>”This is as close as I could get to who I once was.”
“Well, it's close enough.”
>you hug him tightly again, so happy now to have him back
>you hold hands as you walk out of the building
>one question is on your mind as you walk with him
“How?”
>he turns and looks at you with a smile
>”Think of this as a second chance. We were meant to be together. I promised that to you.”
>the two of you climb into the dark blue sedan out front and drive off into the night