Chapter 98: Rest in Peace - part 5

From building to building, cutting through the valley of darkness, a red afterimage soars across the night sky of New York.

Spider-Drones and I are searching for any sign of trouble... but.

"…Of all days… tonight is quiet…"

New York is usually noisy… and yet, tonight was silent. Was it because of the rain? …That must be why there were so few people around.

Not many would step outside when it’s raining.

Clinging to the damp edge of a building, I keep my eyes on the drone feed.

"Karen, see any suspicious figures?"

I call out to the AI integrated into my suit. …Of course, it would alert me if something abnormal came up, but unable to find any clues, I was growing restless.

'None detected.'

I frowned and let out a deep breath.

Calm down… I have to calm down. Panic won’t make things better. It won’t help me find her either. It’ll only lead to mistakes, dull judgment.

That’s why—I need to stay calm.

I sprinted up the building, letting the night wind hit me. The cold air, seeping through the suit, helped clear my head.

…Half the streetlights were out. Restaurants that usually stayed open late were starting to close.

…No progress. Neither the Defenders, nor Gwen… not even Harry, who joined later—none of us had found a lead.

…Michelle. Where in the world are you? Are you safe… what are you doing right now…

Lost in thought, I slapped my own face. This wasn’t the time to dwell on that. I needed to keep moving.

With that resolve, I stepped onto the edge of the building, ready to leap—

A notification tone rang.

It came from within the suit, synced to a Stark Industries smartphone. Not a call, but an email… I projected the virtual panel in midair and operated it by hand.

Opening the notification bar… my eyes widened.

"Michelle…?"

Her name was there. An email, from Michelle—the very contact saved in my phone.

In a rush, I opened it… only to be met with a wall of text. At first glance, it was nothing but gibberish, corrupted strings of characters.

"…What is this?"

Even after trying multiple character encodings, it made no sense. …This wasn’t a letter. It was some kind of data file.

"Karen, analyze it."

Issuing the command, I retracted the drones into the suit. While the system allocated processing power to analysis, I leaned against the wall.

'Analysis complete.'

"…Thanks. What’s inside?"

I asked Karen.

'The data format matches the mapping software installed in your suit. Display?'

I furrowed my brows.

"…Okay. Do it."

…The system in this suit was custom-made by Mr. Stark. For the data’s structure to match so perfectly… who was the real sender of this email?

A map spread across my vision.

Its layout looked like a spider’s web. Thread-like paths covered all of New York.

One of the highlighted lines was connected right near my location.

Judging from the marked altitude… it was underground.

"…Karen. Cross-reference with the coordinates from when I fought underground."

'Understood.'

Redcap… no, when I chased Michelle into the underground tunnels, I saved those coordinates. Overlaying them now… parts of the data aligned.

They matched the paths I ran through back then. Which meant… this was a map of that underground labyrinth.

"………"

Studying the map, I leapt off the building. Gripping ledges and grooves on the wall to control my speed, I landed with a safe roll.

I turned my gaze toward the back alley, and began walking.

"…Found it."

What I found was… at first glance, nothing more than an ordinary manhole.

But according to the map data… this was the entrance to the underground passage.

It probably wasn’t Michelle who sent that email… which meant—

Was it a trap? Were they trying to lure me out?

For what reason, by whom, and why… directed at me?

…The map data even included the coordinates of a destination. In my AR display, a red dot was marked. Where it led, or what awaited me there—I had no idea. …Honestly, it looked extremely suspicious.

I gripped the manhole and slid it aside. Darkness stretched downward, with no end in sight.

My throat tightened. It felt as though some enormous monster waited below, jaws open.

"…No."

I rubbed my forehead. …It was probably just a fatigue-born hallucination.

Lack of sleep was making me weak, no doubt.

"…Don’t be afraid, Peter Parker."

Even if it was a trap, right now I had no other leads. Even if I was clinging to the faintest straw. I had no choice but to go.

…Sending the map data image to the others, I dropped down into the manhole.

Deeper, deeper, I descended. Grabbing onto the ladder partway to slow down, I landed on a concrete floor.

…I looked around. Same as the other day—the tunnel-like scene continued, with fluorescent lights lined evenly along the walls.

Guided by the map, I started walking. Keeping alert, my pace a little quicker than usual.

Five, ten… maybe fifteen minutes passed. This underground labyrinth was vast… truly, to have built such a thing without anyone noticing.

…No, that wasn’t it. New York already had its subways spreading everywhere. It must have been built by someone with massive power.

The enemy was formidable… but even so, I didn’t stop moving forward.

And then, I arrived at a metal ladder.

…According to the map, I had to climb this one. Placing my foot, I climbed up.

Just like when I entered, I lifted open a manhole—and emerged into…

"Where… is this?"

An alleyway in New York. But it was surrounded by buildings with no windows, arranged unnaturally so as to block anyone’s line of sight. No windows, no doors… except on a single building that overlooked this place.

Yes, that one—its featureless, metal door with no signboard. I reached for its doorknob.

I turned it.

…Unlocked. The latch was clearly designed to be locked.

Left open deliberately… that was the only reasonable assumption.

"………"

I leaned my head in, peering inside. A rather narrow room.

It looked like a storage space, cluttered with all sorts of things. Tools like metal stakes, wood, gears. Crafting tools, piles of materials—it had the feel of a workshop storage.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The lock clicked shut.

…Tapping my chestplate twice, I deployed the drones.

"Karen, find me a path back underground."

This little room wasn’t marked as the destination.

The pin glowed bright red directly beneath it.

While the drones scouted around the room, I examined the floor. A few taps—no hollow echo, no sign of empty space below.

I lifted my head… and noticed a painting of a fairy hanging on the wall.

"…This is…"

What caught my attention wasn’t the painting itself, but the frame—its lower-left edge was worn down, as if it had been scraped. As though it had been rotated around the top-right corner as a pivot—

I hooked my fingers under it and slid the frame aside.

The upper-right corner was fixed, but the rest wasn’t. The painting swung open, revealing its backside.

"…I knew it."

Behind it, the wallpaper was torn away, exposing a metal wall. And embedded in that metal surface were two buttons… just like in an elevator, one pointing up and one pointing down.

I recalled the drones, then cautiously pressed the down button.

Clang!

The sound of metal locks disengaging echoed—and the whole room began to sink. …This little room itself was an elevator.

Focusing my spider-sense, I readied myself in the corner. …No hostile reaction. The sensation of descent eventually stopped.

I looked around.

Of course, there had never been any windows in this room. The only way out was the same metal door I’d used to enter.

I glanced over. Sure enough, the same door was waiting.

…Exhaling softly, I tensed my body, then loosened it, easing my nerves.

Once more, I turned the doorknob.

I shoved it open—and it creaked loudly.

…Then, the stench.

Even through my mask, I could smell it. The iron tang of blood.

A chill drained the color from my face. Winter was long over, and yet my skin felt cold.

I knew what it was. …This chill was the fear crawling up my spine.

I exhaled, braced my gut, and forced my legs forward.

The room was dim. Lights embedded in the walls flickered occasionally.

The walls themselves weren’t stone or concrete. Metal, or maybe plastic.

Blank monitors, projectors. Machines that looked like they belonged in a workshop.

Completely different from the storage-like room above. This place… was straight out of an SF secret base.

…Keeping my spider-sense sharp, I walked deeper inside.

Turning my head, I caught sight of a device propped against the wall. A backpack-sized rig with jet-engine-like parts and metallic wings sprouting from it.

"…This is—"

I recognized it instantly. An old man in a green suit, soaring over New York skies. A backpack with wings strapped to his back… yes, it was the very same gear sitting before me.

"‘Vulture’s’ backpack…? Why is it here?"

I narrowed my eyes in the dimness, scanning the other equipment.

A green armored suit. From its lower body extended a long tail, tipped with a sharp, spear-like stinger.

"Even… ‘Scorpion’…"

A device that could discharge electricity at will, mounted to the arm… an insulated suit impervious to shocks, a massive battery.

This too—I knew exactly whose gear it was.

…No mistake about it.
This was the secret base of some mad scientist.

I pressed myself against the wall, staying alert.
No sound… my spider-sense picked up nothing.

Holding my breath, I crept forward, step by step.

…The one who lured me here—were they inside?
It was silent, no presence I could feel… and yet.

I slipped deeper, into a partitioned-off room… swallowed in darkness.
My hand slid along the wall and brushed against something small—a lever-like switch.

Too late—I realized my mistake.
Click. The lever snapped up.

And in that instant, the lights came on.

A light switch.
…At least it wasn’t some weird machine.

Relieved, I lowered my gaze—

"—!?"

I found the source of the blood stench.

A black armored suit… with no head above the neckline.
The corpse’s head had been severed clean off.

"…ugh."

The urge to cry out clawed at my throat—I forced it back down.

…Something sticky clung to my fingers.

The switch I had touched earlier was smeared with blood. Dried, slightly congealed… but still fresh enough to cling to my skin.

I turned my eyes away, toward a desk in the corner.
On it lay a black mask.
A full-faced helmet.

The trail of blood from the corpse stretched from the chair at the desk… then broke off, smudged across the wall by the light switch—

And then, the door creaked.

The very door I had entered through.

"………"

I held my breath, pressing myself into the corner, slipping behind a partition to stay hidden.
If they entered, I couldn’t afford to be noticed.

Clink… clink… Metal scraped together.
Someone—armed, no doubt—was stepping inside.

Pressed flat against the wall, I sharpened my spider-sense.

It couldn’t be one of the Defenders… I had sent them a screenshot of the map, but it was far too soon for them to arrive.

Footsteps drew closer.

I aimed my web-shooter toward the gap in the partition—

Clink. Someone stepped in.

Without confirming their face, I fired a web.

It struck true, latching onto an arm.

But it was an arm thicker than any normal person’s… covered in armor.

Yellow and brown plating.

I’d never seen this particular suit before… but the colors, the feel—I recognized them.

"Herman…!?"

It was the man known as "Shocker."

Herman flinched at the web clinging to his arm, but quickly realized where I was hiding.

"You bastard! What the hell are you doing here…!"

Through my mask, I heard his voice snap with irritation, even as he raised that arm at me.

My spider-sense screamed danger—
But shock froze me for just a moment, leaving me one step too slow.

The web wrapped around his arm—
No good. Useless.

Even binding his hand couldn’t stop the gauntlet from firing.

I kicked off the wall, trying to vault away—
But Herman’s arm tracked me perfectly.

Too close. I can’t dodge it!

A yellow shockwave exploded from his gauntlet.

The world shook.

The blast tore through me—bones, organs, everything rattled.

Stronger than before.
Way stronger than any hit I’d ever taken from him.

He’d powered up. No question.

My brain rattled inside my skull. Blackness threatened to swallow me—then crash. I slammed into the wall.

"Ugh—gghh…!"

The impact thundered, shaking the whole room.
Nearby machinery toppled with the tremor—

One of the rigs tipped toward me, falling.

Straight at me—! No, I have to move!

Dazed and reeling, I managed a sideways handspring, rolling clear just as it crashed down.

But already, another shockwave screamed toward me.

Even Stark’s nanotech suit—punched clean through by that power.

This wasn’t just raw force.
Not wall rebound. Not wider amplitude.

No—the vibration cycle itself had shortened.
Sharper, tighter intervals, hammering damage directly into the body.

More strikes per second.
More pain.

What a nightmare.

A few more hits like that, and I’d be out cold.

I fired a web upward, yanked hard, and launched myself skyward.
My hands caught a thick overhead pipe that crisscrossed the ceiling.

The shockwave blasted the spot I’d just vacated, scattering the toppled machinery like toys.

"Tch!"

Herman’s frustrated click of the tongue carried up to me.

I swung my body like a gymnast, hooked my legs onto another pipe, and flipped.
Now inverted, clinging upside down, I stared down at him.

The gauntlets never wavered—still leveled at me.

I forced my voice steady.

"Herman! Why are you here—"

"Why the hell are you here!?"

He barked back, but then—
His eyes darted past me.

Toward the black armored corpse slumped in the chair.

The headless one.

"…!?"

Shock flickered across his face.

So it wasn’t his doing.
That reaction—maybe he even knew the guy.

"That body… is he someone you knew!?"

"You—! Did you—"

Mid-accusation, Herman froze.
His gaze snapped back to me.

"No… not you. You’re not the type to pull crap like this."

Even as he said it, his gauntlets stayed locked on target.

He didn’t know what to believe.

"Herman… listen to me. We need to talk—"

"I’ll pound you into the floor first. Then maybe I’ll think about it!"

My spider-sense flared—danger, incoming.

I slapped a web to the pipe beneath my feet, cut loose, and dropped.
Swinging my arms wide, I turned the fall into a pendulum arc.

"Tch!"

Herman turned his gauntlet toward me again... and fired.

I cut off the web line and fired another from my other arm.

It latched onto a metal pipe above Herman’s head, and I swung forward, rushing at him while hanging from it.

With the swing’s momentum, I kicked out──

"Ugh!?"

I launched a flying kick.
But the impact I felt was dull.

...That suit.
It’s not as good as Redcap’s, but it seems to have some kind of shock absorption.

I spun in midair and landed.
Herman... staggered back a few steps.

His eyes were locked on me.

"You... bastard...!"

"Herman! I don’t want to fight right now!"

Even as he listened to me, he didn’t lower the gauntlet.

I shifted my gaze toward the headless corpse.
Herman followed my line of sight.

"I don’t think this is the time to be fighting... so, Herman."

"...Tch, damn it."

With a frustrated, almost dejected growl, Herman finally lowered his gauntlet.

"...Spit out everything you know."

It seemed he no longer had the will to fight.
Relieved, I lowered my arm too.

I stepped closer and stood in front of him.
Herman... glared at me, his eyes sharp.

"I don’t know much. When I got here, it was already... I only just arrived myself."

"Huh? Then... why the hell do you know this place? What do you really know?"

Herman closed the distance.
His arm bumped my shoulder, and I staggered back a step.

"Here, um..."

I hesitated, unsure whether to say it or not... then let out a deep sigh.

"A map to this place was sent to me... through an email on Redcap’s device."

"If you’re gonna lie, at least come up with a better one."

Herman moved to jab my shoulder, and I dodged on reflex.

"...Tch."

Clicking his tongue, Herman glared at me.
Even through the mask, I could feel it... that prickling pain crawling up the back of my neck.

My heightened Spider-Sense told me—the man before me was full of hostility.

"It’s not a lie."

"Then why? Why the hell do you have Redcap’s contact info?"

"That’s..."

"Say it. What are you to her?"

Herman’s arm twitched.
Depending on my answer, he was definitely ready to attack.

...So instead, I threw a question back at him.

"Then what about you... How much do you know about Redcap—about her?"

"Hah? Why the hell should I tell you that... You got a death wish, Spider freak?"

The gauntlet glowed yellow.

...Herman seemed to have been close with Redcap.
My probing must have made him wary.

...Ah, damn it.

...We don’t have time to be doubting each other like this, to be fighting.

I tapped the emblem on my chest... and released the mask.
Facing Herman, I revealed my bare face.

"Huh?"

Herman let out a puzzled grunt.

"I’m her classmate... no, her friend."

"...You’re that brat from back then."

Those words made me realize.
Back when I went on that date with her... Herman and I had met while I wasn’t wearing the suit.

At the time, Herman had seen Michelle.
...So he really did know.
He knew Michelle’s face... the girl beneath the Redcap suit.

"...You know Michelle?"

"Who? Ah, wait... so that’s what her name was...? No, maybe just an alias..."

Muttering under his breath, Herman lifted his arm—not to aim at me, but to touch his chin.

Then he looked back at me.

"What do you plan to do with her?"

"...I want to save her."

"Save her? How, and from what?"

"That’s──"

"Did she even ask you to save her? Does she even need saving? Did she say that to you? Huh?"

The barrage of questions made me falter for a second.
But I didn’t break.

I swore to save her.
To myself.

"I don’t know."

"You don’t know? And you’re coming in half-assed like that──"

"I haven’t... even had the chance to talk to her yet."

My words silenced Herman.

"I haven’t even talked it out with her... Just breaking up, saying goodbye, never seeing her again... I don’t want that."

"...Selfish, aren’t you."

"I know... even I know that──"

I lowered my gaze slightly.

"Still... I want to talk to her. I want to know her. I don’t know from what, exactly..."

"............"

"But I want... to protect her. From anything that would hurt her."

My scattered thoughts spilled out as words... and Herman let out a sigh.

...It wasn’t a very logical argument.
Herman clearly wasn’t convinced.

But──

"...Tch. Just this once."

I heard Herman’s voice.
I lifted my head.

"Herman..."

"Shocker... Damn it. Have I really gone soft? Letting a bunch of brats get to me... Damn it. Damn it, damn it..."

Looking annoyed, he tapped my shoulder lightly.
...I could’ve dodged, but I didn’t.

Herman pulled me along... and we stood before the headless corpse.

"...Herman, this is—"

"Tinkerer."

I tilted my head at the unfamiliar name.

Noticing my reaction, Herman continued.

"He’s the scientist who made Redcap’s suit... Tinkerer cared about her too. To the point it was almost creepy, like a stalker."

...I shifted my gaze back.
He cared about Michelle... and yet, He’s dead.

I don’t know who killed him, but... does that mean Michelle’s in danger too?

"...What the hell was that ‘Don’t you dare die before her’ crap. Damn it... You couldn’t even protect her."

Cursing, Herman tore down the blackout curtain hanging in the room and draped it over the body.

"Herman... this ‘Tinkerer’—"

"He cared about her. Not for profit... I think he truly cared about her as a person."

"...I see."

I nodded, averting my eyes from the corpse now hidden beneath the curtain.

Blood was smeared all over the chair by the desk.
I stepped closer, scanning left and right from that position.

From the blood spatter, I realized something.

"...He was shot here."

I muttered quietly.

"Huh?"

"There’s a mask on the desk... It doesn’t look damaged. I doubt she took it off after he was killed."

I shifted my eyes again.

"The blood on the wall... it must’ve been from being shot at close range."

"So what? You saying he took off the mask first, then got shot in the head?"

"...Probably."

Herman glared at me.

"Tinkerer always wore a full-face mask. No one knew him well enough to see him take it off... except maybe her."

I caught on to what Herman was implying.

"Her shooting Tinkerer after she took off the mask? That’s impossible... No. Absolutely not. There’s no way."

He repeated his denial, almost as if to convince himself.
Even if there was a chance, he didn’t want to accept it... That much was clear.

...But the body’s head was gone.
If someone cut it off after the killing and took it away... the most likely person would be Michelle.

And yet.

"...I don’t believe Michelle killed him either."

"Then what?"

I looked at the blood sprayed on the wall, its direction.

There was a chair... If she’d been talking to someone, the chair would’ve been facing away from the desk.

But the blood sprayed from the front, toward the left.
...Why?

If she’d been shot straight-on by the person she was talking to, the blood should’ve sprayed back onto the desk.

For it to scatter to the side... the gun barrel must have been pressed to the side of his head... Could it be—

"...Suicide?"

"Tinkerer wouldn’t do that... He wouldn’t."

I tried to piece it together.

Tinkerer was Michelle’s ally.
He sat here in this chair... and shot himself in the head.
After that, someone cut his head off.

He almost never took off his mask... and if he did, it was probably only in front of Michelle.

So, he took off his mask in front of Michelle... and killed himself?
Then Michelle cut off his head?

...But why?

"Herman, why did you come here now?"

"...What does that matter?"

"I don’t know."

At my answer, Herman exhaled.

"...He called me here. Tinkerer did. Said he had something important to talk about."

"Something important...? That’s──"

"How the hell should I know. That’s why I came here to hear it."

Both of us folded our arms... lost in thought.

"...Herman, if Tinkerer really did commit suicide... and Michelle cut off his head and carried it away... do you think there’s a reason?"

"...A reason, huh."

The howdunit wasn’t what mattered.
The whydunit—why it was done—was what was important.

"...He was in a dangerous organization."

"Dangerous?"

When I echoed back, Herman looked straight at me.

"You didn’t know...?"

His voice carried genuine surprise. When I nodded, Herman began to speak.

The organization he belonged to... the "Unseelie Court."
He was hired by Kingpin... his job was to kill traitors.
As an assassin, he had killed countless people.

"...His work, huh."

"It’s just work, I don’t kill because I enjoy it."
...That’s what he told me the first time we met.

...Thinking back, it was always like that, wasn’t it.
I rubbed my forehead.

"...If Tinkerer worried about her, and did something that went against the organization—"

Herman seemed to catch on.

"Then he’d be killed. And the one to do it... yeah, it’d be her."

Michelle had been ordered to kill Tinkerer.
That was the most reasonable conclusion.

Herman lashed out, kicking the chair in frustration.

"...So that’s why he killed himself?"

"If Michelle couldn’t do it... then maybe he chose suicide, so Michelle wouldn’t have to betray the organization."

I averted my eyes from the body hidden beneath the curtain.
Maybe he wasn’t a good person... but he must have had convictions.

"Yeah... that’s possible. Hell, it’s the only thing that makes sense... This is the goddamn worst... makes me sick."

Cracking his shoulders, Herman muttered bitterly.
I looked at the splattered blood.

It was still red... not blackened, not oxidized.
Which meant not much time had passed.

"...I’m going after Michelle."

"Yeah, I want to too... but you know where she is?"

"I’ll find out now."

I picked up Tinkerer’s mask.
...There, a connector port.

"...What the hell are you doing?"

"I’m checking if there’s any data left in this mask."

I triggered my nanosuit’s functions, shaping a connector from my chest unit.
A cable-like port extended from the suit’s center and plugged into the mask.

Inside were basic operational modules, foundational data... spoofing software for disguising domains, even the mapping data I’d received earlier.
...So that’s it. Just before committing suicide... he used Michelle’s address to send me that email.

Using Stark’s OS to parse the internal data... I found a video file.

"Ah..."

It was a data file, apparently recorded from his own point of view.
The timestamp... just a few minutes after the map email had been sent.

I extracted the video data and operated the panel on my chest.

Drones lifted into the air as I started the analysis software.

"...Find anything useful?"

"There’s a video file... I’m going to play it now."

The drone projected the footage with its built-in projector.

The image was projected into the air.

It showed the body... Tinkerer’s back, and Michelle pointing a gun at him.

Michelle wore her usual suit from the neck down.
The mask... Ah, right. I had broken it earlier.

"...This..."

"Tinkerer and... her?"

The footage was from the mask that had been on the desk, showing the two of them.

Michelle’s face... was more sorrowful, more anguished than I had ever seen.
Seeing it, I felt my own chest tighten.
I realized my breathing had quickened as I watched.

There was no sound... truly just the video.

Michelle opened her mouth, spoke something, moved closer in a panic... and Tinkerer fell.

A pistol was in his hand... he had shot himself in the head.

It was exactly as expected, yet... for the first time, being right didn’t feel good.

Michelle held the bloodied Tinkerer in her arms... crying.

In her hand was the knife Redcap had used.

She pressed the knife against the neck──

"Ugh..."

"...The worst."

Holding Tinkerer’s severed head, Michelle vomited while crying.
The head rolled away... she knelt in the blood, hands pressed into the pool, completely distraught.

...Then I noticed her lips moving.
I focused on her mouth...

‘Someone... kill me.’

I realized she was saying it.

A small creak echoed. My heart felt it too... but physically, it was the sound of my hand on the desk.
I had gripped it instinctively.

Michelle held Tinkerer’s head and stood up.
Her steps were unsteady, wavering... as she picked up the black mask.
It was the mask she had worn when fighting Carnage once.

The black mask, held in Michelle’s bloodied hands, had turned red from the blood.

She placed the blood-soaked mask over her head, swaying.
Without any sign of life, she carried away Tinkerer’s head.

...The footage continued, showing nothing but an empty scene.

...The analysis software had finished processing.
I extracted the GPS identification code and loaded it into my map data.
The code’s name read... Michelle Jane.

The drone’s footage switched, showing a map of New York.
A red dot moved gradually away from the location.

"Hey, what’s this?"

"Probably Michelle’s location..."

Herman and I stared at the floating map together.
I clenched my fists tightly.

"We have to follow her..."

"...Yeah, we do."

I sent the GPS data to my allies and began leaving the lab... heading toward the door.

I glanced back.

The person who had cared for her, sleeping beneath the curtain.
I didn’t even know their real name... but he had risked his life to help.

I lowered my eyes and spoke softly.

"Hey, what are you doing... let’s go."

Herman called out to me.

"Yeah, I know... sorry. Let’s go."

I followed Herman through the door.

Someone whose name I didn’t know, someone who cherished the same person I did.
Leaving the body here weighed on me... but

His wish... I will make it happen.
That’s the only memorial I can offer to someone who’s passed.

I opened my clenched fists, activating the suit’s emblem.
The mask deployed once more.

As Peter Parker.
As her beloved neighbor.
As the hero she admired.
As Spider-Man.

We will save her.

We will.

So... please, rest assured.

R.I.P.
Sleep peacefully.