Author's Note: Beware this is a very sad short story. Fits my feelings at this moment on a dreary October morning.
He stood in the cold rain on top of what remained of his building. His clothes were in shreds and he was cold but he didn't go inside.
He stared down at a once proud city now in flames. Their enemies had finally succeeded in banding together to defeat them at last. After so many years of keeping them at bay and defeating them time after time, they had finally succeeded in bringing the city to its knees.
Its once proud katizens had fled or died in its streets. Only the last of the meager defenders were left and even those were fast being killed.
Tears fell unheeded down his face as he remembered the countless futile battles he'd fought and how, at each one, more and more helpless kats and defenders had perished. Still he fought on, always assured that they would win in the end. After all, they had always managed to but not this time.
Now every battle ended in more losses until finally there were not enough defenders to continue the fight. The final crushing blow was the loss of its strongest pair of defenders. Even he lost hope when they were shot out of the sky.
His own spirit was crushed by the loss of the only thing that he had truly cared for. He had sobbed bitter tears as she died in his arms. Now standing here amid the ruins of his once proud symbol of freedom and justice, he shed tears of defeat and hopelessness.
He spread his arms to the rain soddened heavens and cried, "Please God take me home!" A missile struck and his wish was granted.
The rain continued to fall over a dead and dying city crushed beneath the heels of its enemies.