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Of Kings and Pawns (IC)

"Oh, no no no." She shook her head. "Nice try, but I know every trick in the book - You're not going to screw me over. If you want to work with me then you've got to prove to me you're serious about all of this. I know how this sort of thing works - I tell you the real name of so and so, you go out and use that name to track them down or put out an arrest warrant, you leave me to rot, and bang, you fuck things up because you don't actually rig up Roland's medicine and think you're still good enough to prosecute him. No." She said, firmly. "I'm all up for helping you - and Fritzy would be, too, that much you can count on." She explained.

"Truth be told, not even I know his real name. You think he's going to be hiding out for all this time and then give his name up to some girl he literally met on the internet? Not a chance in hell. He goes by 'James', and that's all I can tell you." She said. "I don't know if that's his real name, I don't know his surname, I don't know his past, I don't know his relationships from the past, his past business, his past crimes or heroism. I just don't know." She said.

"If you do this, it's quite simple what happens - You help us in taking down Roland, an esteemed member of the gang that Fritzy and Thalia have been chasing for all this time? He won't leave you unrewarded, know that much."

"In fact, I'll speak to him and I'll land you an interview with him - Face-to-face, no bullshit. He doesn't forget who his friends are, so if you help him, he'll help you. Obviously if you decide to take that path, the meeting would take place under his conditions, but Fritzy is by no means a murderer nor a bad man. He wouldn't pull any nasty tricks on you - He'd invite you in, talk to you for a while, then he'd let you be on your way. Simple as that. Now, isn't that a bit more tempting than me giving you a name that's most likely fake, anyway?" She asked.

--

"Okay, right, let's take seven steps back real quick." He stopped him. "First off, while you're around me - you either help, or you don't. That means you don't get to decide what information is or isn't important." He shook his head, "Now, from your brief interactions with Thalia there was no way of knowing who she was associated with. It's not as if she told you while you were following her home like some sort of madman, is it? First off, she knows me, and I think you're underestimating me severely. I have the power to push you out of the door and make you and your family's lives hell for the next thirty years if I wanted to. The man that took Charlie? I already have a name, an address, a phone number. I've already seen his Agent Profile., and I can tell you that he's not someone who should be of immediate concern." He explained. "Charlie is safe where he is, and that's what's important for now. His mother may be desperate to have him back here, but the fact is that that is less safe than leaving him in federal custody. Radio chatter shows that no one even knows where he is, meaning whoever is behind his protection knows that whatever is going on is serious."

"You're an interesting case, that much is confirmed already. A man willing to risk himself, leave his family behind, risk dying, risk losing it all - Selfish is the real word. Sweetly selfish - No, no, you're not just any regular man with a dream, you're..." He wagged a finger at him for a second and then froze, pointing at him. "Like me." He nodded once and a smile crept onto his face. "For all I know you're full of shit, though. It's very noble that you don't want Thalia to suffer, especially when you've probably only spoken to her once or twice. That makes me believe you have something else in your intentions. I understand - love makes us do crazy things." He chuckled.

"Firstly let me give you some reassurance - They will not get to Charlie. They are weakened, their numbers low, their power even lower. The Hidden - Reeves - is an idiot. He's not fit for running such a large-scale gang from what I've seen. He's also reckless and isn't making decisions appropriate for the gang's wellbeing. He wants to stick around and hunt down Thalia and her family instead of moving on to greener pastures, and that in itself will be Al-Asheera's downfall. Without a strong leader the gang will crumble." He explained. "Now, I obviously have to share this information with a couple of people. Light the fuse and run away, per se, but all of that will be necessary. Al-Asheera have made a big mistake and have ended up stepping on their own dicks more than a few times. They're going to start a fire they won't be able to put out, and you'd best believe me when I say that. You've already seen that under this roof we are in the presence of some very dangerous people - I'm not talking street-trained apes that wave guns around and shoot cops - I mean real professionals. Men that have made a living out of being violent and learning how to be deadly. Learning how to deceive. Learning how to hunt. Learning how to hit harder. You name it."

"My only issue in believing what you're saying is, no offence, that you were once someone who was stupid enough to believe that this gang would be the answer to all your problems. I had the same doubts about Thalia, and now I'm having those doubts about you. If you prove to me that you're not a psychotic pedophile terrorist following some sort of bullshit 'code', then maybe things will extent beyond the freezer room and the bar's floor. But it still worries me that you fall into a crowd whose willpower is so low that you almost let these people walk all over you. Let them ruin your life. I suppose it's a good business strategy on their part."

"We've all lost loved ones. We've all seen bad people hurt those we care about - You and I are similar in that sense. You fell for the likes of a gang who promised the world, I fell for the likes to being cocky and thinking I could keep pushing my luck without anyone noticing. Maybe you and I are birds from the same flock. But there is also one thing - I'm going to quote a very famous and violent movie for a moment - I don't give a tuppeny fuck about your moral conundrum." He laughed. "To paraphrase a little - I don't give a shit about your secrecy or your reason for keeping your investigation quiet. If you want my trust, start talking. Where did you get all of this information from? You certainly didn't get it while you were following us on the road. You want me to give you a shot? Tell me everything, don't feel it's appropriate just to cut out details."
 
"Huh... so you love a man you barely know anything about, not even his real name, and yet you are carrying his child," Richie let out another condescending laugh. "Who the hell do you think I am to buy that? That you're serious and stupid enough to have a baby with a man you hardly know. I get a feeling you're not THAT dumb. Dumb enough to chill with frequent offenders? Sure. But dumb enough to be in a relationship without even knowing the crimes and the extent of your actions? I highly doubt. Again, all seems like it's out of some sort of fairy tell, Miss Held. And you sure are spicing up the story now that you are telling me you don't even know this bastard's name. Do me a favor and ask Fritzy when you get out of here, and do ask him to elaborate about his history. Then you can decide whether you still want to have his child or not. Because from the looks of it, you just might be oblivious to it all."

He stepped away from the bars, still using the cane as a support. "Oblivious, but I still don't find you entirely stupid. And the fact you won't budge until I do my part just shows that. Killing a man is quite a serious offense, and one that can't be caught. Especially in a hospital where Mr. Simmons is under tight security. Not to mention that we need to extract whatever information we can out of him before his condition worsens. He is still in a volatile state, and anything could set him into a downward spiral. In theory, we could lose him at any given moment. Every second counts, and I'm going to make it count and, if I so choose, only pull the plug on him when I feel he is useless to us."

The last part of Karin's dialogue was... confusing. An interview with Fritzy? Why on earth would he want that? He scoffed and shook his head. "And you tell me why I'd want that, huh? The only reason I ever want to meet the man is if I'm putting him behind bars, or interrogating him from the other side. For a criminal like that, you can't expect anything more or less. But tell me, what could he POSSIBLY want to tell me in private, and under his terms? How could he help me? Unlike Tony, I don't do this sort of shady shit, so you know. Explain to me, what could I possibly benefit from a meet if it didn't involve his downfall? How would I be 'rewarded', as you put it?"

In all honesty, it was tempting to do this for the hell of a sting operation to bring him down. But he wanted to hear Karin's explanation first. To put on the show that he was a solid cop unlike his partner. "This isn't saying I'll kill Roland. But it is saying that anything can happen. You just tell me what could happen to me if I wen through with your deal."

--

"Don't worry. I'm only here to help," he grunted. James doubted every angle of Damien, from his secrecy, to his connection to Thalia... even the fact he'd fallen for the likes of a crowd like Al-Asheera. It seemed like James didn't understand the whole story, which unnerved Damien further. Surely, being so quiet about his past wasn't going to work, unless he wanted to freeze and leave his sister behind. He let out a sigh and continued, "You can tell me that Al-Asheera's numbers are reduced, or that their new leader is weak, and unlike Al-Ra's in many ways, but I'm telling you: they will find that boy. Wherever he is, they will tear the city apart to find the descendant of their god. It could be a stranded forest, or the headquarters of the FBI. They will find that boy. You may find it absurd that I'm so insistent, but if you told this exact information to Thalia, she'd confirm to you that such a threat is more than legitimate. It's a real threat. There are still many left, and Reeves IS powerful enough to train the next Head, if not become precisely that. He will kill this highly-trained FBI agent with a clean profile without thinking twice. He will be found, and killed. That's not a threat... it will happen if that boy is not in front of more trusting eyes than the FBI. You people claim to be professionals? Well, that's at least a better way to keep him safe than with the local law enforcement. To be here. With his mother. Don't you agree?"

Next order of business: Thalia. How he knew her. "I love how doubtful you are of how I knew Thalia. Unless you've been living under a rock, you must know that her name is all over the news, everyone painting her as a criminal. I already knew the name as Al-Jameela of Al-Asheera from a long time ago. I met her at a restaurant for breakfast this morning. Republique, I believe the name was? Now, if you saw a redheaded young woman with Al-Asheera tattoos on her hand and neck, conveniently also named Thalia, who vanishes into the bathroom and never comes out just minutes before police show up asking about the mystery redhead and if she were here.... I'm sorry, but you'd be an idiot not to put two and two together. She doesn't know that I used to work for her clan, and she's never seen my face until yesterday to recognize me. But I found her again by chance at the Grove, a McDonalds where she was getting lunch with her friend..." Recalling the previous day reminded Damien about how shy Thalia was to talk with him in the first place... how she seemed to enjoy his flirtatious attitude and was too nervous to even get his phone number. It was quite adorable, if he were being honest with himself. Maybe he was falling for her. "Then the second coincidence happens: the very mall she was at was evacuated for a bomb threat. She and her friend left the scene, as did everyone else in the crowds. I followed her to the car and tailed her here to inquire more information. And I would've stopped at that, had a SWAT team now showed up at your doorstep later that evening. I would've waited her to call me, now that she had my number. Maybe then, I could inform her to keep her loved ones close."

There was still his own story to get to. Why was he in Al-Asheera? "Let me inform you that I didn't join Al-Asheera by looking for some sort of salvation, or to worship a self-proclaimed god. I was dragged in, by force. I was left with no choice, and I have no idea why they selected me. All I know is that they wanted to ruin the youth of my generation..." What he'd go into next was a story that he told nobody else. Only he and his sister knew. "I used to reside in Philadelphia, me, my parents, and my little sister Angie. We were met by a strange man in a ponytail, rather buff, too, who was rather friendly with us while we were getting dinner together. Turns out we should've taken that kindness with a grain of salt. Because..." He gulped, "He made his way into the kitchen. He... must've put something in Mother's food. A few minutes after she'd eaten, she felt sick to her stomach. She'd been poisoned with a slim chance at recovery. The ambulance didn't make it in time.... that man, he took Mother from us. And while I was alone outside of the restaurant, trying to grieve in my own way by getting some air, that man in a ponytail returned to me. His name was Roland Simmons, called himself Al-Yed of Al-Asheera. And he promised me that the only way that they wouldn't do the same to our father, or even Angie, damn it, was if I worked for his organization. Become a thief. Now you tell me: in that very position, what would you do? I didn't let them walk all over me. They chose me and didn't give me any other options."

A dull chuckle came out of his lips as he rolled to his side, resting his head on the floor to continue his story, "Al-Asheera hurt many people in their many years ruling Philly. I've seen their leader and his second-in-command rape innocent children for their own sick amusement while they sat on piles of money and kept an entire closet of severed heads as trophy pieces. I spent a year with them... then came the execution of a girl we'd taken in after we'd found her dying. I still remember her name... Vanessa Scott. I don't recall why she was executed, but I did remember that she was Roland's betrothed, even though I knew for a fact the bastard was already married. I saw Al-Ra's torture her, behead her in the end... and couldn't take it any longer. If that's what I was fighting for, I wanted no part of it. No killing? My ass. I approached Roland and quit. He told me... that nobody gets out alive, or at least the same way they came. He promised to come for my family, my father and sister. I didn't believe him... then I got word that my father had fallen down a flight of stairs at his workplace. He took a significant amount of brain damage, and has been in a coma since. I knew that I couldn't let them come for Angie, too. I took her and my father to be treated in California, and swore upon my life that I'd bring Al-Ra's and Roland Simmons down, as well as everything they stood for. As for my leads? Before I left from Roland's quarters when I quit, I found a letter addressed to California, written in Arabic. I could only discern that much, but I could only assume it was for The Hidden. And that was where I started."

"Beyond that, I managed to deduce that The Hidden was their contingency plan, because a year later, the bastards made their way to LA undetected and almost seamlessly. He had to be of a higher position, but not too high to be compromising. In time, I got the name, this Reeves fellow. But I hope you see that at this point, I'm not a brainwashed worshiper of some false god among men. I've been working at the same goals as you. And you call me selfish for it." He scoffed. "I'm risking all of this so nobody else has to get hurt. Is that too hard to see? I care about Thalia and her well-being because I've been in precisely the same position. I saw the reports of her father being killed in his church back in Philadelphia. Her mother and brother are missing, and in my research about Reeves, I've found out his plans for her brother. And you are doubting it all and underestimating their power, even when weakened. They may not try to trespass on another criminal's turf if they plan to leave... but a federal agent? They'd happily slay to get the heir to the throne."

"Let me just remind you: no one knowing where he is DOESN'T mean he's safe. No matter who he was last seen with. Your priority should be to ensure the boy is safe and in your hands. And all I see you doing here is beating the shit out of me rather than using the information to your advantage. I hope you don't mind me telling you how foolish that is. Tell me, what work has been done to reassure Thalia's mother that her boy is in good condition? What work has been done to get Thalia and her friend out of lockup? Has ANY work been done at all besides you people running for your lives and covering your asses with bold threats, over-generalizations, misconceptions about Al-Asheera, and hiding your heads in your asses and pretending everything will be okay?"
 
"From going through with that you could gain more than just a few badges on your best - Fuck the medals, I say. Think, you're representing a department where several members have sold out to Al-Asheera, The Clover Boys... You really think medals for arresting a few people is really going to mean much when it's coming from the LAPD? Don't even act like I'm talking shit, either, because you know for a fact anyone who sees your achievements is just gonna' think you got it through being corrupt, so, that's part of what you can get out of this. You can get some real accomplishment - Not some lousy medal that doesn't mean anything." She said. "Instead of looking for arrests why don't you start looking for allies? The anonymous person who's been exposing the names of LA gang members? Guess who. Fritzy. What if you made an ally out of this and he gave you the information you needed to bring some of the bigger gangs of LA down to rubble? You'd be marked a hero. Your injury would mean nothing because chances are you'd immediately get bumped to the Command track, a comfy spot as a Lieutenant, quickly progressing to Captain."

"I know it sounds crazy, but come on. How much have you been fucked by yout injury? How much stress has your family been through? How many of your kids' sports clubs have had to be cut loose so you could pay your medical bills? Believe me, I've been there with Joseph - after he was diagnosed as a diabetic, I had to give up too much to be able to pay for the healthcare." She explained, "What if I told you that with the right word, Fritzy could make all of that just... Disappear?" She smiled. "No more issues over health care, no more debt, plenty of money to take your family on a nice vacation, get your kids into the best sports clubs in your area, maybe even enough to invest in a new house if that's what you wanted."

"You see, that's just my point. On the surface you can't see any advantage in making a friend out of this - but this is a man who pulled together $1,000,000 in three days from all over the world to pay off Al-Asheera. That plan went a bit haywire, though." She shrugged. "So consider a meeting with him more of a... Discussion of interests more than anything out, because trust me, I know what kind of a man you are. You don't want to do this to save the innocent and arrest the bad guys. You want revenge - You want revenge against the people that put you in the hospital, more or less crippled you. You want to see the fall of those who stopped you from doing something as simple as kicking a ball around the park with your kids. So don't even start to act like you're playing the role of 'good cop' here, because you know as well as I do you'd get satisfaction from seeing Roland die."

"You just keep it in mind that none of us are trying to make enemies. And being our friend could be very helpful for you, your family, and your career." She said. ".. Or if you don't stick to your word, it could be the reverse. You may not believe half of what I'm telling you, but you better believe this - If you don't stick to your word and try and play us, your life, and anyone's associated with you, will become very miserable. I wouldn't want for that to happen, and neither would anyone else."

"Like I said, friends, not enemies."

--

"Damien, please. Getting people back isn't something that could happen overnight. From your story, I see plenty of people either connected to you or nearby you have died. Roland Simmons is a sick man indeed, but he is also dead. I apologize for what happened to your mother - I was aware Al-Asheera played dirty, but, not that dirty." He said. "If we want Thalia back, then we need to plan it out. She's under a lot of protection from law enforcement, and I don't know about you, but I'm not a cop-killer." He said. "The only time I'll allow that is if they're batting for the other team. Other than that? There needs to be a plan of action. We can't run in guns blazing and hope for the best - For her friend in police lockup, that's going to be a little more tricky. But we'll manage it somehow." He said. "Thalia is going to bed stuck in hospital for at least a few days - that leaves the rest of tonight to plan and get things in motion. We can get in and out of that hospital before anyone even knows we're there." He said.

"Charlie will be fine for now. It'll take a long time for them to storm the whole city, especially when he's not even in it. It'll take time for them to sweep every location in the area, especially with reduced numbers. We're safe to assume that Charlie, for now, is safe under federal protection. We'll get him back very soon, that much I assure you of. That's not something for you to be concerned about." He said. "There's a man upstairs who I'll relay this information to - He'll figure out the best way to get Charlie back. Thalia will be out of there by tomorrow night at the very latest. We'll probably aim for the morning if it's possible, though." He said.

"It seems I truly did underestimate you - but thank you for being honest. It seems you have nothing to lose and everything to gain at this point." He said. "I assure you, your assistance will not come unrewarded, and I promise you that if you help put this thing to bed, both you and your family will be heavily compensated - as long as all things are successful, of course." He nodded, "I believe in protecting the innocent more than anything, so your father will definitely have better healthcare once all of this blows over. Maybe your sister gets... A nice high-end tutor for school, or some shit. I don't care what your demands are in that department, as long as it's nothing ridiculous."

"I think the main problem here is Al-Asheera is still very unaware that they're dealing with a group of professionals that have some very high-end resources and alliances dotted across the country. Consider us the weedkillers, if you will. If they try to move, if they try and make any advancements, if they even try and breathe in the direction of us or anyone in our protection, it won't take long for us to find out about it. At this point in time we've crippled their structure, so maybe based on what you're saying, it's best to make an advancement now rather than later. If we make a ballsy move and lure them out of whatever rotten hole they live in, then we might be able to cut off the head of the snake. Without The Hidden, they're nothing. No true leader can rise out of a few... Groups of cannon fodder. They'd do something reckless and all get arrested or killed." He frowned.

"If they're planning to revolt, though, that only means one thing - If The Hidden dies, Al-Asheera dies by default. The members become free, resort to petty crime and even try to start their own little anonymous pedophile gang. Bottom line is, things like that don't work." He said.

"Furthermore... As you've helped us out." He said, then he got the ice pick from the bar and walked to Damien, severing the binds that held his hands and feet together. Freedom to move, at last. "I won't kill you. But there is one problem... I hope you're not expecting me to let you... Well, stay here. Nearby, sure, but in this very house? I'm afraid that's not something doable. It's not my house, and I'm sure you understand that if I lose my allegiance with him, I lose the protection for everyone. Though..." He paused. "His guards, maybe there's a 'vacancy' within the ranks of his guard, hm? You don't live here, you stay wherever they stay, but you're here almost all the time. Does that work?" He asked.
 
While the beginning of the offer might've been tempting, especially when his family AND his own legacy were put into question... there were still the obvious downsides that were running through the aging detective's mind and seemed to overpower the perks. "I may be looking for a great takedown, but don't think I'm looking for any sort of medal of honor to hang on my wall later... perhaps you're partially right about this being about revenge..." Richie took a deep sigh as he looked back down at the cane he now had to use to walk, a cane he shouldn't even be using. He should be resting, only moving on a wheelchair, feeling at a high peak of uselessness in his life and dependent on his wife and children to help him in the simplest of matters like getting the TV remote. He hated that feeling, and it didn't help that there was always the chance he couldn't fully recover. In time, he'd improve, but probably not the same as he once was. Al-Asheera ruined his career and put his family in debt. Karin's words about everyone in his family paying for his demise... couldn't be more true. But to ask Fritzy for financial help? And to get it in exchange for ending a man's life? That's not an outcome he wanted, but was it worth continuing to be haunted by the 'what ifs' and damned to using a walking stick to be able to move for the rest of his life?

"You see..." he continued, "Me and my partner, Detective Walsh, as you know him.... we were quite a powerhouse for a near decade. We, by far, closed more cases than any other duo. The captain gave us an office of our own rather than a cubicle. We were successful. But me and Tony were opposites. Tony was the one going out of his way and doing the impossible to get behind a case, even if it meant pushing the envelope. I was the one keeping him in line as well as giving him productive input. I was the angel on the right side of his shoulder, countering the demons poking at him from the left, if you know what I mean. I have a solid moral ground that, under normal circumstances, would lock Fritzy up and throw away the key. But now, you say that he can just... help me out, give me some spare case to help out. Pay off my medical bills and physiotherapy. Keep my kids in their private school instead of moving them to a public one. Maybe even spend Christmas somewhere nice. Even so much as to tempt me with a promotion. But the way I see it? What if Fritzy fucks me over? What if he exposes ME next? What if I get caught by other means? I'll tell you right now, Miss Held. I'd be fired in a heartbeat, if not arrested. I'd lose my family's sole source of income. My kids wouldn't be able to do the activities they love. I wouldn't be able to put bread on the table and keep the roof over their heads. For fucks sake, I might only get to see my children from behind bars. And as a childbearer, I'm sure when you deliver, you'll understand that if you had the choice, you wouldn't put your child through that sort of nightmare."

Friends... not enemies. Would Fritzy even be a worthwhile ally? It was in his best interest not to antagonize a suspect until the right time, but once he confirms Fritzy's identity, under normal circumstances, it'd be a different story. Yet there were many other cases besides Al-Asheera.... "Again, odds are, befriending Fritzy would not get me any sort of promotion. It'd get me fired. It would make me look just as dirty as those 'medals' you spoke of. I would never be able to do what I love ever again. Your boyfriend can drop as many names as he wants to me, but the captain will only accept so many 'anonymous tips' with no name or face to the word. You also say that I'd get a kick out of a man's death? Roland Simmons is a husband and a father, for Christ's sake. I'd be taking away a young boy's father by killing..." He thought it over again. Roland was in vegetable state as is. That father was, indeed long gone. He froze in his place and kept looking back at his own body. His legs weren't shaking just yet. His weight was held up, the pain was mild, and his body was still in physically good condition. But how long would that last? How long would it be before, much like Roland, HE was the useless father?

"If I do this...." he huffed, "the department can never know. Making Simmons' death seem like an accident won't be hard given his precarious condition. One error in his IV, one miscalculated dosage, off by as little as a milligram, and he's effectively dead, so I've been told. That is, if I choose to. Because I know my financial future might be secure, but my career? Not so much. You know that damn well, young lady. So maybe I'll consider your meet, but so far as the record goes, once it's done, nobody speaks of it or snitches. As if it never happened. Because if it does come back to haunt me, I'll personally make sure you, your boyfriend, Thalia Griffin, and everyone else you care about goes down for your little sting operation. That includes Hale and Walsh. I hope that's understood. But of course, I have my end of the first bargain to uphold. Your immunity deal. Once that's drafted, I get a complete testimony from Griffin. Then we deal with Simmons. That's how things will play out. But until then, you hang tight in your cell. This should end well for you, very soon."

Very soon... all depended on how the captain views the idea of giving Karin immunity for Thalia to talk. Because without it, she'd return to the 'fuck yourself' treatment she tried to pull off before. And that's what Richie feared as he stepped out of the hallway of holding cells. If this doesn't work? All of his efforts would be for nothing.

--

Finally, Damien received the trust he needed to move forward with this pack. Whoever this person was that he'd confronted finally believed him after he told his story, the gruesome details of his past and why he was so deeply invested in Thalia's case, simply because it went deeper than just a random few strangers. This was his family. His father and sister. Perhaps it was the family that appealed to this man. Or the angle of honesty. Whichever it was, it ended in Damien breaking free of his binds and given room to move again after several hours of being tied down and kept in sub-par conditions. Once he felt his wrists free, he rolled onto his back, head against the floor, and his right hand cuffing his opposite wrist. There were many terms to work out in this negotiation, which he new he had to get to soon. After taking a few moments of a breather to take in the fact he was now in the circle of trust, he arched his back forward and propelled into a sitting position, rolling over to support himself by his hand, and eventually found himself on his feet. For once, he could thank Al-Asheera for the vigorous training they'd put him through, even if he wasn't given much of a choice in the matter.

"You seem so confident about Charlie and Thalia... Keep in mind..." he sighed, "Be it a group of professionals, or a gang of neanderthals like Al-Asheera, up against the FBI holding a young boy in god-knows-where is anyone's game. Sure, we could corner Reeves and easily take him out with no issues in a secluded area. Without him, there would be no leader, and the power struggle would break them. As you said, the worst possible outcome in that case would be a smaller, less powerful organization of pedophiles and thieves that would crumble quickly. But we're not dealing with a meet. We are faced with a race to find a child before they do, and they have as little to work on as we do. So that boy, as painful as it is to admit, is fair game." He huffed a deep sigh of disappointment as he threw his hands to his hips and thought for a moment. "I know getting him back, and getting the girls out of lockup, probably won't happen in a night. But you have to admit their safety is paramount. I saw the way they hauled Thalia out of here. And I bet there are many vengeful cops who want to give her a piece of their minds. Who's to say she won't suffer more injuries due to an 'accident'? Just needed to make sure you'd allocate your assets and 'professionals' to the best of their abilities. And any sort of tactical planning, I would happily give insight. I know how Al-Asheera thinks, therefore, I can assist in thinking a step ahead of them."

There was the other issue: a place to stay. Things must've been arranged ahead of time, therefore, Damien was unaccounted for. He'd have to settle for something else. Going home would've been an option had they not been hours away from it. He'd have to reach out to his sitter to keep a longer eye on his sister. That he'd be away for a few days. "Fine. I'll take the backyard if I have to, but I want to see this through. I would also like to make a phone call to the woman watching over my sister. I'd like to let them know I'll be out of town for a couple of days and will return as soon as I can. I hope you understand... the girl, she's suffered enough for one lifetime. Mother poisoned, father in a coma... now big brother is not around like he used to be. I just want to let her know I love her and that I will come home with good news. I mean... that can't be too much to ask, right?"
 
"Not even morphine. Inject air into the tube that delivers it - Even the tiniest bubble will circulate through his blood stream and eventually go straight to his brain. The air in the brain will cause a severe hemorrhage and it'll just look like his brain's had enough and shut down. If you're not feeling that one, then mix some tranquilizers in with the morphine - Morphine combined with those is fatal. His heart will fail, his body will shut down, and it'll just look like a medicine intake gone wrong - messy handwriting from a doctor resulting in the wrong medicine being given. The choice is endless." She said. "I know that it all sounds too good to be true - You do this and magically you have allies? As crazy and far-fetched as that sounds, just believe me when I say that you're looking right at the key to getting you cut in on the little circle." She said.

"Just picture it - You deliver me in good shape to James - the man who knows I'm carrying his child - and he'll be more grateful than even I could understand. You've brought back someone who means a lot to him, perhaps more than anyone. In return for that? Well, let me express his resources a little more. This is a man who has stayed off the radar for nearly a decade, brought down entire power grids, exposed gang members, corporate espionage, and god knows what else - yet, somehow, him and all of his associates walk freely in the streets. They have bank accounts, driver's licenses, national insurance, healthcare and dental plans, names on houses, you name it. How? Because he's not just some nerd sat behind a desk. He's smarter than that - in return for you helping me - us - he'll make sure there's not a single chance of you getting caught. Plus, how exactly can you be caught making friends with someone who doesn't exist, hm?" She asked.

"As for Roland, he's about as much of a father as I am Queen Mary." She said. "You'll be doing his family a favor by giving him a peaceful and mostly painless death. This comes down to morals now, detective. What would you rather? Him live and have it exposed that he was nothing more than a pedophile, criminal, and a rapist? Forcing his son to grow up knowing all of that? Having to live with that? Or would you rather him remember the parts of his dad that actually meant something to him?" She asked. "When I told Joseph our dad was drunk behind the wheel when he and my mom died, it broke his heart. He lost faith in people for a long time, and for his age, he became very cynical. Don't let that happen to an innocent kid - at that boy's age? He'd never come back from hearing that his role model was someone so atrocious."

"Just think over what I've told you and don't leave me sitting here too long. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you get everything I promised. All I have to do is say the word, and it'll be organized. A nice vacation for you and your family, financial stability, the best physiotherapy treatment in LA, no more debt, no need to remortgage or even downsize your house, and most of all, the reassurance that you won't end up bound to a hospital bed, having to shit in a bedpan because you can't walk anymore."

"If I was you... I think I know what option I'd take." She said, walking over to her bed and sitting down on it. "Just be careful."

--

"One moment." He stopped him in his tracks and disappeared from the room, but only a few minutes later returned with a tall man, middle-aged. Jon. He looked mean enough in appearance - it was Damien's first time seeing him, after all. He most certainly looked like an associate of James, but Jack? Not so much. Jack was almost a ruffian. Jon looked like he was self-respectful just in his appearance. Yes, James had interrupted Jon's time with Nicole, but he told them both it was important. Jon didn't hesitate to follow.

"Jon, Damien. Damien, Jon."

"Pleasure..." Jon glanced around, "What's going on?"

"Damien here has been a chicken in the henhouse with Al-Asheera. It turns out that killing Charlie isn't what they want to do."

Jon raised an eyebrow, "Hm...?"

"You may need to brace yourself." He sighed. "As Thalia was destined to be married to the leader, it means her bloodline is a valid option for the continuation of-"

"Stop."Jon put a hand against his chest. "I know where you're going with this and I don't want to hear it. Do you know the address Charlie's being kept at?"

"I do."

"And the agent, is he trustworthy?"

"Qualified sniper, combat experience, profiling - you name it, he's done it. There's been no chatter of Charlie's whereabouts anywhere in the FBI's office, so, this guy's doing his very best to keep it all undercover."

"Good." Jon nodded, then glanced around again, scanning everything he could see in search of one thing. "Do you happen to know where Jack keeps his stash?"

"Probably somewhere safe."

"Bullshit. Jack's too predictable." He walked around for a moment, inspecting some of the shelves and such, but after a minute he stopped dead in his tracks for a few seconds before speed-walking over to the bar. He gave one firm kick to the wooden panel, and out spilled a variety of things. There were a few rifles, a briefcase, a couple of hundred wads of money, easily going into the millions - knife kits, expensive alcohol, silk bags of what must have been jewelry of some sort. The best part about this little stash was that it was all gifts from clients he'd had there for his little gambling business. Anyone who wins big gives him something worthwhile, obviously.

Jon picked up a H&K MK23, a silenced weapon, a Colt M4 assault rifle, an Ingram Mac-10, also silenced. Finally, a couple of knives - one was a scary-as-fuck hunting knife of some sort, crafted with Damascus steel, and a push-knife, something that lookedl ike a small icepick but would easily be deadly and almost undetectable. His plan? He wasn't quite sure. He was blinded by some sort of silent rage. He had to get Charlie back - he may have been safe, but the idea of him being taken, subjected to abuse, and raised to be the leader of a gang of pedophiles? Not a fucking chance.

They'd pay. They'd all pay. Jon vowed that the violence was over, that his peaceful side had come out - but if there was one thing Jon was, it was protective. If someone tried to hurt, or intended to hurt someone he cared for, then he was going to stand up for what he believed in.

"Jon..." James said, watching him load up the weapons. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I'm doing what should have been done a long time ago, James." He said. "Mainly, I'm getting Charlie back. But if I run into those bastards on the way? I'm going to make sure they don't hurt a single kid ever again."

"Try and avoid bloodshed. For your sake. For Nicole. For Charlie, hm?"

Jon sighed.

"James." He paused - it seemed he had forgotten Damien was even there. "I've lost too many loved ones to shitty circumstances too many times. I have a daughter I've never met, a son who I haven't seen for years now. Nicole, Charlie, Thalia - they're the only people I have in this world that have the power to turn me into a different man, the power to keep me getting out of bed in the mornings. If you think for one second I'm going to let some sick fucks like Al-Asheera get to Charlie, then think again. They're going to have to go through me first, and that will be, by far, the biggest and last mistake they will ever make."

Was it all going to end in fire? James didn't know. But he knew Jon would settle on his way there. He knew he would see reason.

Jon pointed at Damien, "And you. Not a word. This business is not yours, not Jack's, not James', not anyone but mine. As far as the both of you are concerned, I didn't come down here." He said, fire present in his eyes. He walked off behind the bar to dig out some sort of bag to gather all the supplies up. He'd have to say goodbye to Nicole, tell her that he was going to get Charlie back, safe and sound. He had one nice thing up his sleeve, too, because he knew for a fact that Charlie was definitely going to need to smile. Chances are he would cry when they reunited, too, as any kid would. Jon was sure he himself would be subject to tears, too.

As for Andrew? He'd been part of the hiding. He was a good man, but one dragged into a bad game. He could at least do him a favor before he took Charlie off his hands.

Meanwhile, James looked back to Damien. "Right..." He thought for a moment, "If you want to call your sister, you do it from a payphone. I'll drive you out the forest to find one, but, you don't know who might be listening. We can't risk being traced out here, and without my equipment, I can't scramble your call's location. We'll have to make-do." He said. "Just remember, Damien, that this battle is most likely going to get ugly. If for some reason you end up having your face blown off when they get here, I'll ensure your sister is well looked-after. Same for your father." He nodded. "If you help me? Same deal stands. I'm not saying I don't trust you, but, if you ever feel like deserting is a good idea, you're going to wish it was Al-Asheera chasing you down, okay?" He paused for a moment more. "We'd best go. Come. I'll talk to Jack before we leave." He said.
 
So the ball was in Richie's court now, a decision to make: assist James' cause and eliminate Roland, as well as get Karin's immunity deal set in stone, or ignore them... the latter was, at first, appealing. Keeping his integrity rather than going dirty like half the cops in the LAPD - one of which being Reeves. He didn't care for medals or accolades. He wanted to do the right thing by this city. But would the right thing, in this case, be take a pedophile and murderer off the streets? He had no problem with negotiating Karin's freedom, as she was hardly a criminal in his eyes - a guppy in comparison to Thalia or other members of Al-Asheera. No, his qualms lied in the idea of killing a man - innocent or not. It all seemed far too easy. Blame it on a mistake from the hospital. It wouldn't link back to him, especially given the fact that he shouldn't even be wandering around crime scenes, two criminals handcuffed to hospital beds, and the LAPD HQ. It only reminded him... how the hell was he going to just walk out of there? By now, word of his whereabouts had to have spread. And that was a whole other story for explanation. One Karin was still not quite in the loop for. But it was a must. If Tony wasn't doing his job, it would have to be him.

Boy, would Richie be in for a disappointment when he hears that Tony executed an innocent woman.

"Friends that don't exist, you say," he huffed, his grip on the cane tightening. It was clear the pain was kicking in after so long being off the wheelchair. Karin could probably notice a shiver in his legs, one he tried to suppress, but was still there. He desperately needed to sit down, but he needed to show that he was holding the cards in this game. That meant showing dominance. No weakness. "I understand how the criminal underworld works. These people walk amongst us every day. Keep in mind Jordan Reeves and Bernard Sullivan were walking among the LAPD for god knows how long when they were really wolves in sheep's clothing. I know exactly how that goes. I also understand how grateful any man would be for the return of his children and loved ones. I have two sons... sons that have to look at me in eyes of sorrow every day when they wake up.... funny how talk about expenses..." His tone soon became rather dark as he told a story about his own family. "My younger son, Jonas... all school year, he's been super excited for a scouts camping trip that should've started this month, early July to be exact. He'd be going away for two weeks out in the wild with his friends and scoutmasters. And I was so excited for him..." It hurt to talk about this... worse than the pain in his body. "My older son, Nathan, was once captain of his soccer team. A team I'd frequently take off of work to go see him, cheer him on. That was how things were before. Now? Jonas isn't going to camp. Nathan isn't on the soccer team anymore. Because we can't afford it with the significant medical bills we've racked up, ones the department can't help with. All because of Al-Asheera. That bastard that shot me, almost killed me. Almost left me paralyzed. It's sucking every last dime out of me and my wife. We can mortgage the house, take loans, all that jazz, and I can brush it off. But my injury is compromising my sons' happiness. We've even pulled them out of their school in favor of a public school. As a parent... you'll someday see how painful that burden is to carry. That you have to deprive your kids of their dreams."

Richie's eyes even watered slightly discussing the stories of his children. Before Karin, the only two people he really talked about this with were Reeves and Tony. Both of which were AWOL now. Karin was... a first. "I don't even want to imagine that boy of Simmons', finding out his father was some thief, terrorist... pedophile. It's not pleasant. But does that make him better off dead..." he gulped. "He's never going to be the same again. Perhaps on life support. And his wife will probably be given the paperwork to pull the plug on him. But if that isn't the case..." He looked over to the door, his back hunching forward as his weight and pain began to catch up with him, the painkillers dying down. "You'll never know if it was me. You'll hear that some nurse fucked up. I'm going to talk to my captain, then go back to the hospital. Maybe by the end of the day, you'll be out of here. You just have to.... hang in there. And if any of those officers violate your rights, you come to me. I'll deal with it. Me and my partner had a lot of power around here. Influence. I can get word out to the right people to get you justice. Till now, don't start any fights. Just keep your cool. I've... got this."

He at least hoped he did as he took steps away from Karin's holding cell. Would his walk out the front door be easy? He could only hope so. He was in pain, shouldn't be walking or driving... But he had a few trips to run. The hospital. Roland and Thalia awaited.

As he made his way out, he passed by the very cubicles and desks where his fellow detectives and officers of the law operated from. Not far away was his and Tony's office. So many memories were here. His dream job was here.... could he afford to lose that? Would Fritzy... James... whoever it was, ensure him proper treatment to get back to being the man he once was?

High hopes.

--

It sure was a nice change to see a more professional face like Jon's rather than the more demanding, rougher, unruly one of Jack earlier. Damien could use a more negotiable entity anyway. That's why he and James got on the way they did. This Jackal was untrusting, and for good reason. At least he could have a conversation with Jon or James. Upon being introduced, Damien nodded as a sign of acknowledgement. James explained the story about Charlie's supposed destiny to Jon right in front of him, and it was very clear that his man, though not Charlie's father, deeply cared for him. His reaction.... so rash. So emotionally driven. The mere fact Reeves wanted to make a murderer and pedophile out of an eight year old boy was despicable to any sane person. But to Jon? It seemed like his heart was ripped out of his place as he asked about the whereabouts of the boy, and even took up arms. Where was he going to go? Just break into an FBI safehouse or something? He sounded mad. But he was doing what any man of a house would do. Charlie, Thalia, and this Nicole person, who he could only assume was the mother... he cared about them. Deeply. Deep enough to risk his life for them, even if he made it clear he wanted to settle down.

Would this be their first and last encounter? "I won't say a thing, Jon. Best you be careful."

There was no point in stopping a man fueled by vengeance. After all, nobody stopped Damien from taking his path of life to avenge his family's cruel fate. Who was he to stop Jon? He returned his gaze to James and continued, "I can assure you my loyalty to your cause, 100%. I am no double agent... not one that will serve the likes of monsters like Al-Asheera, at least..." He lifted his right hand slightly to expose the faint marks that were left from his tattoo. "They are not a part of me. They never will be. And I'm sure Thalia doesn't want to be, either. Along with many other young people who've fallen into their spell, willfully or not. It's unfortunate to know how many people like us there are. But they can be saved. Not all of them are hopeless cases like Al-Ra's, or Roland Simmons, or Sergeant Reeves. You have my assistance, even in combat. I can handle myself out in a dangerous situation. But I think we have another concern..." His eyes landed on the door where Jon had exited. "You don't expect that man to just... go and break Charlie out alone, right? Do you plan on sending some sort of backup? Something so he doesn't get himself killed? He's no good for saving the boy if he doesn't survive. The call to my sister can wait at this point... what do you plan on doing for him?"

Nicole, meanwhile, was getting herself dressed in her room, at least looking somewhat presentable. She took pride in a proper appearance, especially in a guest's house. She had no idea how she could be of any help to a brute like Jack, and no idea if he'd act up against her, so she'd ask before doing any kitchen or housework. She was still worked up over her children, as any mother would be, the thoughts of the worst floating up as the likely outcomes, but ones she was praying not to be the case. But the one thing to top this all off would be her seeing Jon armed to the teeth and ready to become a one man army to get Charlie back. Especially after hearing that her son's alleged destiny was to succeed a pedophile like Ra's.
 
Karin's final words to Richie were the following:

"Your boys will only have one childhood. Keep that in mind."

Of course she had sympathy - but she wanted words that were going to hit hard and convince him to do the right thing here. His family cleared mattered more than anything to this man, and anyone with the slightest knowledge of psychology knew one thing when it came to luring people in: Play on their weaknesses.
--



James looked at Damien, then looked at Jon as he left the room with a black duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You don't know Jon." He said, quietly. "He was known as a Fixer in Philadelphia. He's dodged everything from the local police to the FBI. He's no idiot - Give him a while to cool down, and he'll devise a proper plan. In some ways this is what I was hoping would happen - We needed a real reason to send men out to get Charlie back. Now that Jon's heard the possibilities for the boy? He wants nothing more than to have him back safe." He said ."You just met a man that undertook more contracts than you could even imagine, and as far as I remember, only one was a failure - because the target in question got drunk and fell off his balcony." He shrugged. "He's highly trained, highly capable, and most of all, I've not seen passion like this in Jon for a long time." He said, simply. "They could send a dozen men - he'd figure out a way to get out of it, be it in fire and flames, or as if he and Charlie were never there." He explained.

"The difference between Jon and Al-Asheera is that Jon knows exactly where Charlie is, who has him, and who else he can expect in the house and on the way there. Al-Asheera don't have that information, and it will be a while before they do. Plus, let's not forget that Jon is an excellent driver. The best I know. The best Jack knows, and now? The best you know, too. They may have guns and manpower, but we have an angry gringo with the desire to protect the only people he has left. And believe me, Damien, that is not a side of Jon you want to be on the receiving end of." He sighed, taking a deep breath thereafter. "I'll be sure to have Jack send out a couple of men to keep watch - it won't be necessary to send any more than that. Like I said, Jon will calm down, and on the way there he'll devise the best plan of action." He looked back to him, "If you want to make that call, we'd best go and do it now. Your concern for my friend is flattering. Honorable." He said. "Plus, we need to get you a suit if you want a single chance of being kept around here as a guard."

Meanwhile Upstairs...

Jon went out front and loaded the bag into a passenger seat of one of the guard's black BMWs. It was going to give him enough speed to cut the journey time virtually in half, and with each of the cars having a built in device which flashed back as soon as it detected the flash of a speed camera, thus blinding it, there was no way for the registration plates to be picked up by any of those. The only way it could be done is if someone saw it in person, which wouldn't matter by the time Jon had managed to get away. He had his plan, but first, he had to say goodbye to Nicole. He knew it wouldn't be the last goodbye, not a chance, but he had to her her mind at ease.

He went and found her and immediately approached her, one hand resting against her face and the other on her shoulder.

"Nicole, I'm going to get Charlie and bring him home safe." He whispered. "I can't bare the thought of someone doing him harm. Not after everything he's seen, after everything we've been through." He looked at the floor, "I promise I'm going to do my best to avoid any conflict - I don't even expect to run into anyone that means to do him harm. I'm going to have a word with the agent who has him in protection and let him know the severity of all of this. Hopefully he'll cooperate." He said. "Al-Asheera want you, they want Charlie, and they'll stop at nothing to find him - if it means hurting Thalia, they're going to do whatever they can to do it." He explained.

"I know that this may all be a lot to take in, but... I can't allow myself to be the one who stands idly by while they draw in closer to him. You and your boy have saved my life more times than I can count now, and... I... It wouldn't be fair if I just put my faith blindly in knowing he was with an FBI agent." He said. "Understand that I will bring him back to you, and when this is all over? We're all done with it. We move into a nice house and live a normal life. Away from all of..." He glanced around. "This." He finally let out a tiny sigh with his words. "Nicole, I love you. And I'm coming back. All of us are."

--

Thalia's Hospital Room

The door opened up, and in walked a young man in a t-shirt and some black jeans. He looked rather informal, and with him was a backpack and a boquet of flowers in one hand. He wasted no time.

"Thalia Griffin." He spoke, simply, and tossed the flowers down onto the nightstand. "It won't be long before they realize I'm not your long lost uncle. I can't believe they believed that bullshit." He waved a hand towards the door. "Don't open your mouth yet. I understand that you may see me as someone threatening or someone coming in here to try and squeeze information out of you - but that's not the case at all. I have only one simple question and it doesn't go on any records. As a matter of fact, I'm actually here to assist you and your family in a small way." He nodded. "I know the whereabouts of your younger brother. For security's sake, I won't be disclosing where that is or who he is with. Just keep in mind he's a friend of mine, and I come here on the unofficial behalf of the FBI." He said, reaching into the backpack and pulling out what looked like to be an audio recorder.

"I've been asked to gather a couple of things while I'm here." He said, also pulling out his cellphone and nonchalantly snapping a picture of her. "Evidence that you're alive, for one. Not to worry, this picture will be touched up so you look as thought you're in better health. Other than that, I've been asked to collect a voice recording from you. For the purpose of security, I have to be in the room while you record said message. The message itself will be delivered to your brother by hand, by myself. For that reason, I ask you to conceal any emotion and avoid becoming upset. Your brother, as you can imagine, has undergone a lot of emotional trauma, of which has lead to some incidents where he's staying. Please try and sound positive and happy and don't say anything that'll trigger any reaction - meaning you don't speak about the gang, your injuries, what happened to you - You simply tell him you're okay and doing well, and whatever personal touch you may want to add."

"This may all seem a bit quick - but keep in mind I'm trying to act quickly here before any of this is compromised. Before you begin the recording, please answer one question - You have my guarantee your brother will receive these recordings. You may see my badge if you so desire, as proof of employment." He said. "Anyway, my question - Do you happen to know where your mother vanished to? Obviously our main priority is reuniting him with his mother, as well as a man named Jon that's been spoken of frequently. In the mansion in Encino, our men found no traces of any of these people. You're not obliged to answer, but any information you could provide may help us find out faster if your mother and any friends of hers are safe or not."

He stopped. It almost seemed rehearsed, but, he'd probably planned it all out. Everything he had with him, the way he got in, how fast he was acting. If he was Al-Asheera, he wouldn't have had to worry so much. No one would be trying to blow anyone's cover in that scenario - this man couldn't stop checking over his shoulder.
 
Damien crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, at first in disbelief. James spoke of Jon like some sort of legend. Was he? He might just be, if that's the kind of man he was.

"Fixer you say... hmph. I guess I'll take your word for it. I have no clue where Charlie is, not enough by what you're saying. But if it's FBI custody, he's bound to expect company, security, something to protect a key witness, so good on you for sending backup with him. I guess we can only hope he makes it back, am I right?" he shrugged. "I'm no one to tell him not to protect the ones he loves. He clearly cares about the boy, even if he's clearly not the father. And it's a good thing someone has the balls to actually do it rather than sit on his ass and waste time." Was that poking at James' decision to approach it tactfully? Possibly. When given this same information, while James wanted to wait until they had a plan... Jon wasted no time. He was already out the door. And it was that quality that Damien could respect, and knew would get them somewhere in keeping that boy safe.

Next order of business: the phone call. "I can promise you I won't be long. Just get me to a payphone, and I'll handle it. I just want to tell her I'll be away for a few days. I assure you, I won't tell her where I am or what I'm doing. She's been in the dark about my actions for a while. I can keep it that way until this blows over."

As for the suit? He ran a hand through his hair, rather nervously. "I... guess if it's necessary. Truthfully, I haven't worn a suit since my high school graduation. With the odd jobs I've held for the past while, I never needed to again. But if that other gentleman prefers it that way, then so be it."

Perhaps Damien's crush on Thalia made him think about impressing her the next time they butt heads. Him all dressed up and saving her. Maybe he could dig playing the role of the hero.

--

Before he could even speak, Nicole knew immediately that Jon was going somewhere. His body language was enough to give away that he had thoughts in mind. Risky ones, especially after he came forward with his plans. He reached out to hold her, and Nicole responded accordingly, laying her hands over his shoulders. Jon was going to get Charlie back? James must've been aware, and greenlighted this. Every time the issue was brought up, it was pushed back. But clearly, Jon wasn't going to wait another minute. Much like the boy's mother, he wanted Charlie back too. Back, as in, in their hands, not with an FBI agent they only know of on paper. It made Nicole so uneasy over the past 12 hours just knowing that Charlie was in the hands of a stranger. It wasn't so bad with Jon because she was there supervising the entire time. Now? He was gone, somewhere hours away and probably confused, afraid... he'd witnessed his sister getting shot, and she already knew of his newfound phobia of guns. That wasn't going to help. He needed to be with people he cared about, and seeing Nicole wasn't going to be allowed to come forward and take custody of Charlie... this would have to do.

"I..." she began, "I've been waiting for someone to tell me that since last night. That someone was going to start something to bring him home. I can't even imagine how Charlie is right now. Frightened out of his mind and wondering where I am after he discovered nobody was home. And yet every time I ask about him, I'm told he's too far to get to now. And nobody will say anything further. Jon, you don't know how much it means that you're actually... doing something." She took a slight step closer. "You promise me that you'll come back in one piece with him, okay? You say you'll avoid confrontation...." Deep down, Nicole doubted this. She knew that Jon was a man who would fight back if need be. What if it needed to happen? She didn't like the thought, and it made her stomach turn to know he might leave a trail of dead bodies on his way to Charlie. And not Al-Asheera bodies. FBI agents. She tried not to think of it, wincing as the thought left her system.

"He needs to come home. It's either he's coming to me, or I'm going to him. And since he's safer here, I guess we both know the answer. And it's not just me he needs right, Jon. It's you he needs. You need to remember not to lose yourself in the process of getting him back. You are his hero, and practically a second father to him. He trusts you, and he needs you now more than ever. We... we need each other, and I don't want us to be divided any longer."

It was all true... Jon loved her, and she loved him back. In that moment, she almost instinctively threw her arms around his chest, reaching as far as she could, and embraced him as tight as she could before he ran off as a knight in shining armor. "I love you, too, Jon," her voice came out as a muffle from his shoulder. "Be careful... please."

--

Though he avoided the urge to drink, Tony's guilt didn't really seem to go away. It was a burden for him that he'd murdered someone in cold blood. Someone he should've been, quite frankly. Was it all some fucked up test to see Tony's breaking point? Or potentially see if he was the traitor in all of this. If so, he passed. Marginally. Because now, the side effects were kicking in. His stomach felt like it was flipped upside down, paired with an urge to throw up that didn't seem to go away. His head felt like it was spinning, a dizziness that not even sitting down could calm. Much like that guilt he felt when he realized he couldn't get his girlfriend back, he felt miserable. But this time, it was far worse. There was no fixing this. There was no bringing Jenny back. Not even her body for a proper burial. It was probably already animal food by now, and at some point, Thalia will hear about it. Hear that he was the one who put the killing bullet in her brain. And if the next time they met wasn't behind bars, she might just kill him for it.

What doubled the pain was that only one man knew of this burden. Frank. He was the only person Tony could open up to, and that's what he felt the urge to do. Approaching him from behind on the decking, he cleared his throat, hands buried in his pocket, head hanging low, as he muttered in a low voice, in case anyone was nearby to listen.

"Jenny's dead." That much was obvious. But next came the damning part. "I expected James to be the one to want the last laugh. To be the one to end her. But... I guess not. He turned to me... and had me do it." He gulped. "Shit, Frank.... I killed the girl when she did nothing wrong. I hauled her off into the forest, kneeled her down, and shot her between the eyes. A full on execution. And... it's killing me to think back at. Her last words... that she loved Thalia and wanted her to know. How she begged for mercy, looked me in the eye... I can't stop thinking of that. It's worse to know... I could do that to an innocent woman, but not to a monster like Sam... I couldn't end the life of my cousin who I knew did horrible things to people I care about. He was a thief, rapist, pedophile, terrorist... he ended Richie's career. He raped and killed Mel. He participated in what happened to my dad. But what's odd is that... I couldn't put him down for good. But Jenny... a woman who did nothing more than act like an entitled bitch... I killed her to save my own ass." He pulled his hands from his pockets, running them through his hair as he looked out into the distance off the decking. He felt even too disgusted to look at Frank as he confessed his sins.

"You ended Murphy's life. Like, without even blinking. How did you do it? Don't tell me it's not bugging you."

--

During a moment when she was about to get some shut-eye, Thalia's eyes shot open when a complete stranger entered her room. It caught her off-guard, and even made her grow tense. She'd roll a fist in her right hand if it didn't feel uncomfortable with the IV in her hand. He was dressed informally, not like an FBI agent, flowers and gear at hand. Who was this person? And he came like he knew her, and more. As if he were addressing a set of news from a script. Everything hitting her so suddenly. But the cynical half of Thalia knew better than to trust a stranger. Especially one that came saying that he knew where her brother was, and had the audacity to ask about her mother, too. Because she could only think of one person who would want them both.

"Go fuck yourself," she scowled, but she was going to be more descriptive than a typical Al-Asheera clansman. "'FBI' my ass. Let me tell you: any FBI agent or cop would be here doing one of two things: beating the shit out of me, or, as you put it, squeezing information out of me. Which it seems like you're doing by asking about my mom. And you have my brother, but you can't tell me where he is? Bullshit. Because that's not good enough if you're here to make me talk. You're gonna have to be more convincing, bucko." She was giving him every ounce of sass that she could. Besides Richie and his deal for Karin, she couldn't trust anyone or anything. Not only that, but she wasn't going to be foolish enough to trust this man blindly. She got a look at his right hand, then the left side of his neck. Not Al-Asheera, or at least not one of the obvious ones. She knew some of them remove their tattoos in sensitive positions. She'd play that card anyway, wincing at the fact a picture was flashed of her. "For all I know, The Hidden could've asked you to come here, make sure I'm alive, get proof, and try to extract information about my family. In which case, you're not helping them. You're handing them a death sentence. And I'm not gonna help out with that."

Her eyebrows crossed as she processed the rest: a voice recording to hand down to Charlie as proof she's alive. Why on earth would Al-Asheera want THAT? She couldn't think of any good reason for that, which left her confused. Did that mean she'd hand it over? Like hell she would. If anything, Charlie might be a hostage, and the voice recording might be something to keep him calm and not kicking and screaming like he was in the arms of that SWAT officer. "You can tell whoever sent you with that tape recorder and camera to kiss my ass. You're not getting anything out of me that easily. Again, you might just be an impostor just waiting to crack down on me. Maybe even smother me when given the order. In which case, just get it over with. But if Charlie is really in good hands, you better have a way to prove that he's actually in these hands by his free will, and not as a hostage. Proof for proof, right?" her head tilted slightly. "If you can't do that, I swear, I'll scream as loud as I can and say you work for Al-Asheera, and you came to kill me before I say anything to the police."

This person claimed this was time sensitive... so the more she wasted his time, the more she compromised his operation. And if he was a fraud, she'd be doing some good, at least.
 
"You're going the right way for a broken jaw, Damien. Cut the passive-aggressive shit." He waved a hand. "Things would be going a lot faster if a traitor hadn't brought the cops to my fucking doorstep. I've lost virtually everything we need to make this operation go smoothly - Sending Jon in blind is very last-resort. If we had what I needed, we'd already have Charlie and Thalia back here - in fact, we wouldn't even be here, because all potential traitors would already be six feet under. But I can't do that, because that doesn't follow the moral standards of everyone else I'm working with. The joys of being in a team - no one knows what you did right, but everyone knows what you did wrong. It's like trying to walk on broken glass. It doesn't work out well." He shrugged, then slapped his hand down on Damien's shoulder and held it in a firm grip.

"Let's go, shall we?" He said, and with that he lead him outside. There was no time to waste - Into a car, and out of the forest. It was only going to be a short drive, but James made sure he left the house with a gun on him. You never know what could happen - he found it highly unlikely that Al-Asheera would somehow find them all the way out here, but you could never be too careful. If they found themselves in a sticky spot, at least one of them was armed and ready to jump into combat if completely necessary. Only time would tell, really. Even so, he drove him into the nearest town and tried to stay as close to the outskirts as he could. They'd have to venture in further to get a suit, but, that would - with a bit of luck - be an in and out job.

He pulled up across the street from a pay phone, and he stopped right there and simply waited.

"Alright, go ahead. I'll keep an eye out. Make it as quick as you can." He said.

--

"James has been trying to plan the best way to get him back, but I'm afraid things can't be planned anymore. There's been developments in what's going on and it's safest if we get him back here. Thalia will have to sit tight for a little while longer, as getting her back won't be anywhere near as easy, but... We'll find a way, somehow." He sighed. "Then there's Karin - I don't know. It's all looking impossible at the minute, so I can only hope those two can hold their own while we figure out how to get them, too. But Charlie? We should be okay on that front. I can't imagine security is too tight, and with them being positioned where they are, I shouldn't run into any trouble." He said.

Once again, her words had found a way to his heart. If he really was like a second father to Charlie, then he couldn't let his violent side creep up on him. He had to make sure things went smoothly. Or at least as smooth as possible - he couldn't kill the image Charlie had of him now. He was going to be the hero, not the villain pretending to be the good guy. Maybe the bag of guns wouldn't be entirely necessary, but he was taking it as a precaution. The knives would be on him at all times, and maybe the handgun. That was the bare minimum once he got close to the lion's den. He could only hope that Andrew didn't resist too much. There was no need for anyone innocent to get hurt here.

"Charlie and I will be back as if we never left in the first place." He said. "Charlie's gonna' have a tough time readjusting to things once this starts to settle down, but, his fears are something I've discussed with him. I've already said that I'll help him stomp out his fears, approach them and get rid of them. It won't be easy, but we'll manage it. He'll be okay, Nicole. We all will." He smiled a little. "We'll be back before sundown, okay?" He leaned forward and gently pecked her on the lips. "I promise."

With that, he squeezed her hand one last time and made his way out of there. He hopped into the car he'd left the bag in and took off - he was going full-speed ahead. Even better, this car was an automatic, meaning he had to put even less effort into getting where he needed to be. If he drove fast enough, he could be there in two hours, maybe an hour and a half. He had to be careful, though. There was the adrenaline forming in the pit of his stomach, so that was only motivating him to go that little bit faster.

--

Frank continued looking over the woods when he was joined by Tony, and he simply nodded to what was said. Jenny went into the woods, she didn't come back out. It was obvious what had happened, and he'd expected as much. It may have been morally wrong for him to send his partner in there with James alone, but, things were different for Frank now. He had his own wars to fight, and he had a kid that was depending on him. There was no running off and being part of everything anymore. A week ago Frank was a completely different man, but now he had changed, and there was no undoing what had already been done.

"In a situation like this, there are no winners, Tony." He said. "It's like war. No one wins a war. Innocent people die and there's nothing we can do about it." He said. "The reason you feel so guilty is because the guilt outplays your desire to live. You may not even want to live your life much more, from what I'm gathering. And the guilt's eating away at what's left." He said. "You choked on killing Sam because he was family, you had all of your childhood memories convincing you that he wasn't like that. Jenny was just... A bitch, really." He said. "She'd given both of us shit, and you and her never got on. Killing her was easy because you didn't have any reason to let her live." He said.

"Forget what she said about Thalia. In fact, forget it even happened - Forget it all. You don't need to tell anyone what you did. In fact, if people find out, just say James did it. He's most likely going to be the one who reveals it, right? May as well cover your tracks more." He explained. "The longer it goes without being mentioned, the more clueless everyone is. I'm sure James is going to have a word with Nicole to ensure she doesn't mention anything about Jenny. No one needs to know she ever came here - for all anyone cares, she's still living in some hotel. Or maybe she got in her car and drove off into the sunset. Simple."

"With Murphy it was a very different story, I guess." He frowned. "He was just someone who was a bystander. An extra gun if things went wrong. That much was obvious - he, technically, had no real involvement in what happened. He was just there." He said. "Killing him even after knowing that wasn't an easy thing to do - but my own desire to stay alive and my dedication to protecting Jordan in every way was much stronger than the feeling of guilt. So yeah, the guilt's there, but it's being beaten down by everything else. I relate to you - it's not often I kill someone who's defenseless. It was an odd feeling I got from doing it, and I'm sure it's going to haunt me later. But we'll see."

"In the moment, I didn't even think about it. I just did it. I thought about everything that had happened and killing him suddenly didn't bother me." He said, "It's only after you do it that it kicks in. It hurts the most when I look at Jordan and realize how clueless he is to it all. As far as he's concerned, someone came in and took his family away from him, and I'm working to have them put in prison. God forbid he ever learn the truth." He scratched his chin. "It's not the fact that you've taken someone's life that hurts, Tony - life goes on after they die. They don't bleed, they don't cry, they don't feel anything. It's when you look back on what happened, and when you look at what you've got and how it impacts it, that's what hurts." He explained. "When this is over, I think you should consider doing something good for yourself. You've lost those close to you - almost everyone, really. You should considering fostering a kid or two, or something. It'd help you."

"Other than that..." He shrugged. "We just need to move on."

--

"Oh, bullshit." He waved a hand, "Look, princess. If it was down to me you'd already be spending the rest of your life in solitary, but luckily, I owe my aforementioned friend a big favor after he saved my damn ass a few times. I'm doing this for him and your family. I'm not doing it for you or anyone else. I'm not even doing it on behalf of the FBI." He said, then reached down into his bag and pulled out a folding wallet, which he opened up. There was indeed an FBI ID card there, picture and name and all. Isaac Price.

"Don't read the name out loud. For all I know this room's got bugs crawling all over it from your tasteful friends. Anything you say could expose me, you, and put your brother in immediate danger. Your brother is not being held against his will, for fuck's sake. If it wasn't for my friend, he would have been tossed into temporary foster care where Al-Asheera could hunt his ass down in literally minutes. Lucky for you, all of this shit's off the radar - my friend's involvement, where your brother is, what condition he's in - Even I don't know that much, that's how much this guy cares about keeping him safe. In fact..."

He reached into the bag and pulled out another thing. A piece of paper with stuff printed on it - it was Andrew's profile. Full name, address, previous cases, qualifications, FBI-related certifications...

"You recognize him? If you didn't pass out when we raided the place in Encino, you probably saw him there." He said. "Once again, don't read any names out loud. But this is who your brother is with." He explained. "If you think I'm dumb enough to walk in here as a member of Al-Asheera and blackmail you, then you're dead wrong. You've got a couple of days before you end up behind bars, or dead, and it's only in my interests to do this favor for my friend and your family. But, you know what, if you're going to be hostile towards me and not take a godsend - fuck you. I won't sit here taking your bullshit when I've put my career on the line to unfuck some of your problems." He snatched up the recorder from the table.

"Let's hope your brother's mind is at ease with just a photoshopped picture of you - You won't be getting a chance to do this again. You're handcuffed to a bed - I walk out of this room and I don't exist. So don't act like you have the upper hand here when half the city wants you dead. My friend happens to believe that you were the victim in that raid, but if you want to push away the one off-the-book chance you're going to get to speak to your family again, then don't ride my ass when shit flips up in your face."

He tucked the recorder back into his pocket and went for the door, throwing it open.

"You have a good day."

He stepped out... She could let him go, or call him back. But it wasn't going to be long before that door slammed shut again.
 
Al-Asheera HQ

Similarly to Ra's, Reeves never really left the fancy headquarters that he'd take possession of after the death of the gang's god-king. It was all so glamorous and luxurious, truly made for a god among men. Oh, how foolish were the masses to believe that Ra's was a god. To the world, Tony Walsh had the honor of being the man who slayed a god, and with that, Al-Asheera began their string of retaliation. But behind closed doors? It was Reeves that ended the reign of their exalted one... and took up the position himself. But his time as the successor was fleeting. He knew that he could only have the throne for so long, because there was, unlike Ra's' desires, and heir to the throne. And it was set in stone in his engagement to Thalia, even if he murdered his own flesh and blood for the sake of his own immortality. Now, with no son in the picture, it was up to the brother of Ra's' betrothed to assume the position, and, when he turns 21, accept his destiny as the new Head of Al-Asheera.

Step one? Find the boy. Unfortunately, that proved to be harder than expected. Al-Asheera had lost several resources, and couldn't get their hands on the sensitive information needed to find out Charlie's last known location after he was taken out of Encino. Their connections were dwindling down, but, unlike the previous Head, Reeves was open to negotiations. Ones with The Clover Boys. The Irish clan takes LA, while Al-Asheera takes revenge on the mystery redhead and leaves. Simple enough, on paper at least. But they couldn't be too prepared.

As a servant returned to his master, Reeves had been staring at a giant picture of his companion from many years ago, one set in a gold frame and hanging in front of his bed. Such a glorious leader, in the eyes of the brainwashed men under his rule... now gone forever. But seeing the barbaric Arabian man only made the sergeant's blood boil. Many things under his rule were unjust and could've been done better. Which is why Reeves sent out the bombs across the city: to paint a picture of a new Al-Asheera.

"Your Highness..."

Being addressed as royalty wouldn't change, as much as Reeves might've wanted it to. He just didn't want to be associated with middle-eastern habits like Ra's did. No more Arabic clan names or anything like that. He turned his head slightly to the servant and grumbled, "Yes?"

"Your armored suit and mask are ready. Made of the Kevlar you spoke of earlier, covers you head to toe. Whoever sees you in it will not see your face, or even your skin tone. We have also fit it in with an automatic voice morphing device. With a microphone by your mouth and discreetly-placed speakers across your back, you will speak, and your voice will come out in a low tone, completely morphed. Nobody will know it's you when you face the Clover Boys."

"Excellent. Have we received word of a location?"

"Not yet. But once we know of it, we will send as much manpower as we can to scope the area for vulnerabilities and the optimal way of entry. We will also position our men to counter any of their men attempting to snipe or flank us."

"Mm..." Reeves nodded. "Good. We have no room for failure. If anything is off about the meet, and it is an attempt to assassinate me, I want Bradan Cabhan killed on the spot."

"As you wish, Your Highness.... we've also received the body of Jacob Griffin. We managed to preserve it, so all of his body is still recognizable... but I don't understand why you still want the body."

"It will be a part of Charlie Griffin's initiation. The child lost his father, so we're going to let him say goodbye.... before we mutilate and disfigure the body before his eyes and force him to eat it unknowingly."

The servant gulped, a bit uneasy at the idea of doing that to an 8 year old boy. "That's... brutal. But if that's what is necessary."

"Any luck on the search for his mother? She has no reason to live, after all. But I would like him to observe when I behead his mother."

"No luck, but I think we can ask the Clover Boys to assist in that matter."

"Huh... more favors. But deal. Fine. Anything else?"

A hesitant nod came from the servant... as there was a tad of unpleasant news in store. "Y-Yes, Your Highness.... Roland Simmons..."

Reeves turned his body around to properly face the servant after hearing that name. A name he assumed to be gone. "Hm?"

"Mr. Simmons is confirmed to be alive by our sources in the hospital Thalia is staying at."

No change in facial expression could be observed by Reeves, but on the inside? There was a burning fury at this breech of security. Sure, Roland was significantly injured and would never betray Al-Asheera, but he was still a loose end. And with that bullet to his head? There's no way he isn't suffering permanent brain damage. "Is there any hope for his survival?"

"We are unsure, Your Highness, but we are sending a man of ours in there to check. What are your orders?"

"If he's coherent, bring him to me. Get him out of that hospital at all costs. If he's not.... he deserves a proper end. Put him out of his misery."

"Yes, Your Highness. That is all."

What the servant couldn't put his finger around... what did this new leader want with Roland if he could engage in conversation? Was there some sort of information the athlete had in his mind that they had some hope of preserving? Or was it just.... kindness? Mercy... Strange. Part of Reeves was still a cop, but he was a monster all the same.

--

Payphone first, then suit hunting. If there's anything Damien didn't expect, for starters, it would be living the cold environment of the freezer room. After getting pulled out? He figured he wouldn't last Jack's fury. But now, he was out and about, outside, carrying on with his life. Probably on a tight leash, but still alive, which was a good start. Just when he thought he wouldn't get a chance to say good-bye to his sister... such a relief. Even getting down, putting a quarter into the booth, and dialing his home phone number... he felt a warmness in his heart, knowing the men behind his parents' demise were going to fall at long last, and he'd have a hand in it. Would Angie approve? Perhaps not of his methods, but she was only 11. The less he knows, the better. He just wanted a few moments to tell her that he loved her and thought the world of her.

The dialtone went on for a few rings, and to Damien's good fortune, the first cheerful voice he heard was that of his sister.

"Hello?"

"Ang..." He let out a wide grin across his face. "Hey, it's me."

"Damien, where were you? You said you won't stay too late tonight, and you never came home. Vicky said she'd be staying the night and I got worried."

"I know, darling, and I'm so sorry..." Her panicked voice struck Damien's heart in a unique way, one he'd only felt in a manner to protect his own. "R-Remember that casting crew that I tried out for? I told you about them at breakfast, and they said I didn't get the part?"

"Mhm?"

"Well, apparently they want to see me again, but the problem is.... they went all the way up to Sacramento. They called me about the time we had to get out of the mall, and couldn't wait. They offered me a place to stay for the night so I wouldn't spend hours on end on the road. I'm so sorry I didn't speak to you guys all that much. I spent a lot of it driving and sleeping. I have another tryout in a few hours. Maybe... just maybe, I'll actually get the part. I mean..." He chuckled a bit, realizing the analogy between his lie and the truth. "I might actually nail it this time, and it'll be good for the both of us. You might just see your big brother in a full-length movie."

"That's amazing, Damien!" Her cheerful voice left Damien leaning on the phone booth, facing away from Damien with a grin over his face. He'd never seen Angie this happy for him before. She'd been his cheerleader in the acting industry before... if only this time, it didn't have to be a facade to disguise his true intent. He could hear her voice calling a bit more distantly, as if to someone in the background. "You hear that, Vicky? Damien might get that part he was going for! He went all the way up to Sacramento to talk to the crew again!"

A few distant muffles of a female voice could be heard as well. He couldn't blame Angie for getting this excited and telling the sitter. But what he didn't expect was what Angie said next.

"Hey, Vicky wants to talk to you, I gotta go get dressed, because we're going out for lunch. I love you big brother! I hope you get the part!"

"Hah... I love you too, kiddo."

That gleeful conversation, though short, was all he could ever ask for. So... what did the sitter want? A few second of silence revealed a rather... strange tone from the young woman. "Cut the shit, Damien. You're not in Sacramento."

The smile over Damien's face faded. Vicky sounded... cold. Unnerved. Demanding. His heart sank in it's place. Was he truly caught in a lie? And surely, Angie wasn't in the room, as he asked to not curse around her. "E-Excuse me?"

"Angie told me about your fun little encounter with the mystery redhead yesterday at breakfast."

"God, damn it," he groaned, running a hand over his face. "Look, whatever she told you might be a tad exaggerated. Kids do that, and you know this."

"His Highness knows you're following her. Two traitors, working together. I've already brought him in the loop."

It was in that moment that a grim realization sank in for Damien... his babysitter? An Al-Asheera sleeper? The enemy was quite literally right under his nose for so long. But how? Vicky had no tattoos. Was this a new protocol just to get back at Damien? Or at least to keep him in line? He kept his voice down as he went on so James wouldn't hear so easily. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. Yes, I MIGHT'VE met Thalia Griffin in person, but I sure as hell wasn't following her. Otherwise, I might be in jail with her right now just for knowing her. You know how the police are..."

"Quit playing dumb. We know she's been arrested, but we are actively looking for her brother and mother. Do you have any leads that might be useful to His Majesty?"

"Fuck yourself," he scowled in a low growl, no longer hiding whoever this woman was.

"Alright, if that's how you feel, then so be it. I hope Angie's friends at school don't make fun of her when she 'accidentally' trips and falls on a loose floor board... gouging out an eye... that's not a pretty image of your little angel, is it? Think of the social repercussions, too. She's going into the sixth grade. A loooot of bullying happens there. She'll be an outcast, that girl with one eye because she made a dumb mistake. You know that leads to depression... suicidal thoughts.... you've lost so much, Damie. I'd hate to see you lose..."

"Okay, okay, fine!" he huffed, feeling the pain in his insides with every tempting word from that woman's mouth. "I'll see what I can do and... call you later when I have updates. For now, not much is new. Nothing you don't already know."

"Mhm... talking in code there, Damien. Clever. You must have someone nearby. Oh well. You were always a great one, from what I heard. Angie keeps her eyes. For now. You have 24 hours to make contact with my cell with this new information. And I think you know this... but don't tell the cops or anything like that. That wouldn't be... wise, would it? Until next time. Ta-ta."

The line cut, and Damien's heart felt like it was in freefall. He almost wanted to act out of rage and smash the phone back into its place... but he didn't. James wasn't far, and him lashing out like that would be an obvious red flag, especially after just gaining trust. He could only compose himself and exit the phone booth and hop back into the vehicle with James.

"Hope I wasn't too late. I told Angie I'm in Sacramento, trying out for a part in some small-time movie. Hope that's not an issue."

Was it worth it to tell James that the babysitter watching his sister was a monster? He hoped his secrecy would save him there. James was no cop, but he held honesty to a high degree. How long would it take people to understand that? Damien was new, so he'd have to learn the hard way.

--

"No winners... but sadly, I feel like the ultimate loser in this whole thing," he sighed, hanging his head low. "Look at how much I had before we started working off the books, and look at what's left. I have NOTHING, Frank. Absolutely nothing. So you say, I may not want to live after this...? Maybe." Tony's mere temptation to resort to drinking again this morning was a testament to his newfound suicidal tendency. "What do you think I can do when this is over, huh? The LAPD's not gonna let me go back. What will I do? Pack bags in a grocery store? Sell my condo in Santa Monica and live somewhere simpler?" He might do that regardless. He'd never be able to afford that without the financial help from Melissa. Plus, that condo was filled with too many memories of her to just go back to. "Live happily ever after and hope I find love again after losing someone I was with for well over a decade? Maybe adopt a kid and try to raise him as my own, even if his adoptive father is a monster, and there's always a chance he'll figure it out? You say that like it's all so easy. Like I can get over the guilt of everything we've done since we took Thalia out of handcuffs.... it's not that easy, Frank. Trust me. We can't just oversimplify the problem."

Thalia was offered therapy once this was all over... perhaps Tony could indulge in the same thing.

"If you ask me, Jenny probably was crazy over Thalia. Not love in the way we know it. Some crazy perversion of love. Thalia?" He scoffed. "I don't think she ever loved Jenny the same way she loved you. Maybe she was just... curious, to see how it'd feel to be with the girl she had a crush on in middle school. It doesn't seem like she particularly... enjoyed the aftermath. Still... doesn't give me the right to take her life. Especially when she's innocent. And can't fight back. You may say, my secret dies with her? Why do I feel like it's not... worth it?"

There's always the possibility that the secret wasn't buried as well as he thought... Roland survived that bullet two nights ago. And he knew the truth.

Nicole... she was an innocent life in the mix of all of this. She'd figure out soon enough that Jenny was killed. She was once close to Jenny's mother, a good friend between both families. And with a solid moral compass, she'd never lie to a friend about her daughter's death. Would James be able to convince her to keep her mouth shut? Tony hoped so. But he always doubted it.... hopefully, James would take credit for the execution. It would take him out of the public eye. But that didn't help his conscience.

"Normally, I don't think about the means to an end so much, mainly because I've never gone this far to get to a result. Never... killed in cold blood. And I thought I could preserve that part of my by sparing Sam, giving him a chance. But after Jenny? It's gone. And it's bothering me. So much." He squinted his eyes tightly and groaned. "Frank, I spent all night just living in a rewind of that moment when I killed her. Her eyes haven't left my memory. Her words... sincere or not, they mean something in my mind. I try to convince myself that James made me, but it doesn't help. It only... gets worse."

Tony felt sick to his stomach, never making direct eye contact with Frank. He had his way of coping, and his motivation that justified his change of behavior... even if Tony could do similarly, he refused to let it serve as an excuse for both of them being far different than they were in the beginning. Richie would be disappointed in Tony, that was for sure. His past partner was all he had left, truthfully. And soon, they'd meet again. "Moving on... maybe someday. Just not today. Once Reeves is gone, I don't even know what I'll do. I just don't want anyone to be influenced by the bad choices I've made. I used to pick on Thalia, call her names for her wrongdoings and faults... now, I don't feel any better than her. And that's what's killing me. I can't just stop thinking about it and hope something good happens to me. Because no matter how good it is, the bad is still there. Its impact is still there. You may have Jordan to keep your head above water... but who do I have?"

It felt like suicide was becoming more and more of a better idea for Tony... it would only get worse.

--

Finally, the cop attitude was showing itself in the man that managed to get in. The strong attitude about locking her up, about everyone wanting her dead... public enemy number one. No way would she ever walk the streets as Thalia Griffin if she lives this. She got a look at the identification, memorizing the name and face, and acknowledging he's a part of the FBI as she listened into his aggressive chatter. He kept making out his 'friend' to be some sort of godsend, the only one who'd at least listen to her and help her. She might've believed it from Karin a week ago, but from a total strange like this in these circumstances? Not a chance. This Andrew fellow must have an ulterior motive that she was unaware of. It didn't help that she didn't see a single shred of proof that Charlie was even WITH him, as a hostage or a guest. Even better? He threatened to leave, and even walked out the door. What a relief, Thalia thought at first...

...but a victim? This Andrew fellow? How could he possibly think she's a victim? Maybe to an unlawful bullet in her forearm, but that's about it. But what if that guy, who she recognized the picture of, actually brought Charlie to safety? She remembered that he forced the SWAT team to leave Charlie alone and not haul him off, but beyond that, she wasn't around or conscious enough to pick up on anything. So what if, by some strange circumstance, he wanted to help? And why else would they want proof that Thalia is alive and well? To appease Charlie... it only became more clear.

Now or never, he said before walking out. "Wait!" she called out, leaning forward in her bed, now worried she was too late. She paused for a moment, giving Isaac a death glare. "I'm not your friend. And I'm sure as fuck not going to give you any information about Al-Asheera or my friends and family. Not like I can anyway. I barely trust you, but if there's even a slight chance that you have Charlie, I want to speak to him. And you don't monitor what I say. I want full control about what I tell him without you holding a board in front of me and making me read what you want him to hear. Charlie trusts me because I'm honest with him. If I wanna tell him you fucks broke my arm and shoulder, I'm sure as hell telling him that. And you don't photoshop the picture you just snapped of me. However you got me, you show him. I can't look that bad for a camera, right?" Thalia was photogenic, as she'd seen in her past pictures that her mother had uploaded to social media. "Charlie clearly wants to be put at ease, if you said he had an outburst. The only way he WILL calm down is if someone's fucking honest with him. Not telling him lies to make him feel better, because get this..."

She sighed for a moment as she went on to speak. "I told Charlie about everything I was ever involved in before you brutes stormed in. Uncensored, untamed, uncut. Every purse I've snatched, every gas station I've held up, every rich conman I've fucked to steal their wallet...." A cocky smile appeared on her face as she attempted to dominate this undercover agent. "He knows it all. And you know what he did after? Sure, he was in shock. But he hugged me. He told me he loved me anyway. Because he told me he's fed up with people lying to him. And for once in my life? I did what I should've done. I told him the trust. Because he's my brother and he deserves as much. Repercussions my ass. I'm going to tell my brother things exactly as they are. That I'm injured, but okay. I'm going to wish him the best and boost his spirits, but you can't tell me not to get emotional or lie to him about my condition and what might happen. If you want to keep my brother under control, you might wanna consider my counter offer... He's a Griffin, after all. What better to understand him than one of his own."

Thalia was taking a bold guess about Charlie's breakdown... and being brutally honest like she was before might've worked once to ease his nerves, but would it do so again? "One more thing... when you deliver that picture and voice recording, I want you to send one back. Picture, and his voice. And if you don't... well, I now know your name. And your friend's. So if I say you came in here and threatened my life under your friend's order...." Her grin went from cocky to maniacal. A sinister threat of revenge that might cost her. "Well, at least from the looks of you, you might look good in orange."
 
James had been watching closely - he noticed the moment Damien became uneasy. An eleven-year-old girl on the phone? Part of him doubted that things were that way anymore, so, he was going to be confronting him as soon as he got back. Not a chance in hell was he just going to let him slip away and act like nothing was wrong, because something clearly was. Right up until the moment he got back in the car, James saw it - the forced composure, the panic in his eyes, the concern and confusion and potentially even a moral conflict. It was all there - anyone who could read faces knew it too well. If a smile was forced, if eye contact was maintained unnaturally.

James sat there and stared at him for a moment, not saying a word. He just went dead quiet - he didn't respond to what he said, either, he just stared at him.

Within another second, he'd whipped out a gun and pressed it right against Damien's temple.

"Don't lie to me." He said. "You holding out on me, Damien? You've got one chance to tell me why you looked so fucking anxious just now, and if I even think you're lying to me, I'm plastering the street with your brain." He said, quietly. "If there's a problem, I know about it. That's how this works. I'm not here to suck your dick - you're here to suck mine. Understand that? Something went wrong on that phone call. What happened? Was it even your precious little sister you were talking to, or have you got some other plans?"

"Whatever the issue is... I'm sure we can help each other, can't we? That's what this game is all about."


--

"You may feel like you have nothing, but not many of us do, Tony." He said. "Take a look through the house - Realistically, do many of us have much to hang onto nowadays? I've lost my house, more than likely. Even with Jordan, things are going to be hard for me. Karin and Joseph may have James and each other, but they're caught in the midst of chaos. Their lives will never be the same after all of this. Same for Nicole - She has her children, but one of them's missing, the other's in custody, and she lost her husband not long ago. It's only Jon she's got now - but then what does Jon have before he had her?" He asked. "He had jack shit, but he survived just fine, didn't he?" He asked. "The fact is, we can't always have someone there for us. We can't always have someone or something to keep our heads above the water." He explained. "Sometimes we sink, but that doesn't mean we drown. I've sunk many times before, Tony, and I'm still here."

"If you were to adopt or foster, would the child ever really grow up to see you as a monster? For all he knows, you'll be one of the few heroes who had the balls to step up to the challenge, fight off police and gangs, all to take down a gang that had become your life's work. In the process of that you helped save a six-year-old from what was certain death. You've protected all of us in the process of committing the bad things you've done, so, is there really any monster in you? Sure, you killed someone in cold blood - but we knew that innocent lives would be lost here in this whole... Operation." He said.

"And as touching as it is to know that Thalia's love for Jenny was not the same as it was for me, I've lost the ability to... Feel any particular way about that. The bottom line is I don't care for that anymore. I tried over and over to offer her support - I was nice about the breakup, I told her I wasn't angry and that I could manage if she felt she needed to move on. She moved on, but not under what we agreed. Since then she's hardly said a word to me. She's turned her back on everything we promised each other, on all the things we could have been non-romantically, she turned her back on them and so far has refused to look back." He looked away. Maybe there was a touch of bitterness to his tone, too.

"At the end of the day, when all of this is over, Jordan is still in need of family - or at least friends of some sort. Close friends. Not just kids, but adults, too. So he can learn to trust again. I'm not saying it'll be an overnight process, but, I'm happy enough to help you work towards the whole 'Uncle Tony' role, if that's what you wanted. I hope you're not under the impression that I was just going to... Forget about you once this is over, hm?" He said.

--


"If you told him everything - all the nitty gritty details - then you're nothing more than a selfish little girl who doesn't know right from wrong." He retorted. "I won't blame you for your mistakes - You spent a long time lacking a proper childhood - but let me educate you. Children don't do well when you give them the full honesty." He said. "Why the fuck do you think parents sugar-coat things for their kids? It's so they don't have a fucking mental breakdown panicking about something bad that may or may not happen. The whole reason people lie to your brother? So shit like this doesn't happen. So he doesn't wake up in the mornings screaming and running for the front door in the middle of a panic attack."

He paused, "Yes, that's exactly what happened this morning. All of this shit - all of this trashy information you've decided to dump on the head of an eight-year-old has well and truly fucked him up. How would you feel if you were eight years old and your parents came and told you up front that people wanted to hurt you? You wouldn't sleep at night. That's the damage you decided to do - not just to a kid, but to your own flesh and blood. And don't give me the bullshit of 'who better to understand him than a Griffin', because that's a load of horse shit. You don't understand anything - nada. Kids his age, all they care about is if their caregivers and loved ones are close by, what toys they're getting for their birthday, and what their friends at school are up to. They don't care - or need to care - about adult stuff. That's what being a kid is. You don't worry about all of the harsh realities - You were a kid once, I'm sure you remember the happy days." He waved a hand.

"But you haven't been present in his life until a week ago, from my understanding. But I'm not angry at you - I'm not angry that you so carelessly spilled everything onto his plate and forced him to suffer the mental consequences. Think about that for one second - It's not you that suffers the consequences of your honesty, it's him." He snapped. "So for all you know, you may be the one responsible for turning your brother into an anxiety-ridden mess who's slowly becoming scared of his own shadow. If that's what you want, then fine - Say what you please. Tell him that you're laid up and you lost a lot of blood, that you're in absolute agony, that Al-Asheera are probably going to kill you within a few days. Just be brutally fucking honest and see where it gets you - and to keep to my end of the deal, when he hears your 'brutal honesty', I'll take a nice video of how his face drops and tears fill his eyes, how his body starts trembling as he worries for his sister's life. I'll video all of that so you can see the kind of damage you're doing."

"You don't understand much, and I get that. The trick about sugar-coating things is you don't make it obvious that you're fucking lying." He scowled at her. "Sick of lying... What a load of bullshit." He shook his head. "You'll understand when - if - you have kids one day. Sometimes telling them what they want to hear is the best thing for their health. If you look at everything your brother's been through, every meltdown he's had, every panic attack he's endured, every tear he's shed... Is it really worth it? No, because in today's world, they call that sort of thing child abuse."

"If you think I'm stupid enough to come here without leverage, then you're a fucking idiot." He said, simply. "You think I'd waltz in here and not cover mine and my friend's ass? You're dumber than you look." He said. "So, if I was to snatch up that recorder right now and leave, you could say whatever the fuck you please to the police. It wouldn't make a difference - Plus, who's going to listen to who's being described as a 'filthy terrorist'? Like fuck will anyone believe your claims, so stop acting like you're the one in power here."

He reached over and slapped the 'Record' button on the recorder.

"You have three minutes. Keep in mind what I said. You waste any more fucking time, you don't get a rewind. So shout and swear all you want, cry and scream - Whatever you say or do gets heard by Charlie. If it's bad? I'm willing to show it to him without context. So if you scream bloody murder, he'll be welcome to think you're being slaughtered. I'm sure that wouldn't do his psyche any good, would it?" He leaned back against the wall. "Two minutes and forty seconds."

Maybe pushing her luck wasn't the best of plans - If she'd been cooperative, chances were that she'd have much more of a window to think about what she was going to say to Charlie. Chances are she would have had a lot more freedom with it, too - because it was clear now that Isaac didn't like her. The old saying goes - don't bite the hand that feeds you. Sadly, that's exactly what she did, and Isaac dropped the truth-bomb from the bottom of his heart that he wasn't planning on bringing up, but he did it in the end.
 
In the moment that Damien might've assumed to be completely in the clear and on James' good side, his unnerving conversation began to expose a sign of weakness. An uneasy feeling triggered by lies. But not the kind he was doing for his sister's own good. A darker one that he was playing safe with. Or so he thought. He realized his facial expression and tense movements told of something deeper. Which brought his dilemma to the table: tell James that his sister is now a hostage to the sitter? Or keep it quiet and... well, do what she says and rat him out? The latter would do Thalia no good, that's for sure. But could he risk his sister being harmed because of him? If Vicky does what she threatened, get Angie into an accident and lose an eye, it would be a constant reminder for Damien of his own failure to protect his precious sister. And that might happen before James sends his men to the house. After all, the sitter was sleeping there at his place, all eyes on Angie, no doubt. They might outnumber her, but in time before she does something irreversible?

He turned his neck slightly to James with the gun pointed at him, and shook his head, making a decision then and there.

"I beg your pardon?" he questioned in shock at how James doubted he was on the phone with a little girl. "I was on call with my sister. Yes. She was the first person to answer the phone. I can hand you the number I dialed, and you can confirm it was my residence. I simply told her what I told you: that she thinks I'm in Sacramento. She believes it. She may seem excited now... gonna be a pain to tell her I didn't get the part." He sighed and went over the part where he'd soon regret. Lying to the barrel of a gun.

"The issue you might've recognized was with my sitter. She was complaining about working extra hours, how I've been gone more than ever before these days. She thinks I'm being reckless, losing touch with Angie, and throw her in the arms of sitters and nannies rather than take care of her like a responsible adult. I sat there and had her scolding me like that. And I can't fire her, because I don't know where else to send Angie at such short notice. I don't want to bring her here and frighten her. The less exposed to all of this she is, the better, you hear? I told the sitter to suck it up, and that I'd pay her extra once I could, and that I'd give her a nice long break. Spend more time with Ang, which I probably will do when this is over. They think I was pulled aside last minute for a career opportunity. They can't say much about it, I must say. I'm putting food on the table for Angie, after all. I wish I actually WERE getting the part I'm speaking of, but oh well... what can we do?" he shrugged. This was now a point of no return. James was in the dark, and he had to return some sort of credible intel to Vicky in 24 hours, or his sister would pay.

"Nothing's wrong. You have my word. Now, I assume you have bigger problems to worry about than traffic and suit shopping. So can we get this over with so we can actually get Thalia out of holdup?"

--

Frank did make a convincing point about people under this roof, quite really, having nothing. Although, he did see the loophole. Everyone had... well, someone, at this rate. Everyone but Tony. "You see, that's the thing, Frank. You and Jordan have each other. Karin, James, Joseph? They have each other. The Griffins and Jon? They're all a package deal. Where does that leave me? You? Richie? Who else? No family or loved one, no kids, nada. Nothing. Yes, we've all lost something in this past week, but some have lost more than others. Al-Asheera went out of their way to target ME, and indirectly started a downward spiral of events over here. It's driven me off the edge more than any other case." He sighed, but one of exhaustion rather than emotional pain. He was tired of being here in general. He wanted to follow Frank to the ends of the earth for the Clover Boys, but deep down, he had no motivation to do so. "After Richie got shot, I spent a whole 24 hours up trying to identify his shooter. I recreated the scene of the crime in my kitchen, only to reach the conclusion that it was most probably the mystery redhead. Mel thought I was losing it and eventually pushed me to get some rest. And that's only the tip of the iceberg. I've worked this case till I had nothing left to work for. Now, I just.... don't wanna do what I wanted to do with my life anymore. Not now that it's taking everything I hold near and dear. It's not that I can't survive alone. It's that I don't want to keep losing people that are close to me."

The direction of the conversation was leaning in a particular direction for Tony. Did he want out? Badly. But only when Reeves is out of the picture. He wanted more than just 'out' though. He wanted to disappear, be away from any of the people here, never see them again, only to find himself somewhere else. Somewhere his crimes won't follow him.

"You talk about fostering a kid... like all my skeletons won't just resurface," he shook his head, also positioning it downward. "Trust me. None of that will matter if that kid ever finds out that I looked an innocent woman in the eye and shot her to cover my ass. Kids? They're smart. And as they grow, they pick shit up. It won't stay hidden forever. What do you think Jordan will think of you if he hears what you did to Murphy? Or to Sam? He's not gonna immediately hail you as a hero for getting justice for his family. He's gonna be terrified. Hell knows he won't see you the same way ever again. Innocent blood would be spilled. I just didn't wanna look the girl in the eyes, hear her beg to tell someone that she loves them, and then end her life with the pull of a trigger."

Frank had a rather welcoming approach to giving Tony a chance at a sort of 'family'. To be around for him and Jordan. It felt... flattering at first. But would he truly fit in as a third wheel? It fixed a grin onto Tony's face at long last, but on the inside, he wanted to break it to Frank. I'm sorry, Frank, but I think I just need time away from all of this shit. I gotta go my separate ways.

But on the outside?

"That's cute, now isn't it?" he smirked. "I'm an only child, so I really... don't have much room to be an uncle. Richie's kids sometimes called me that when they were younger. I even told Sam his kids, whenever he would've had em, could call me Uncle Tony if they wanted. But hey... I kept going on about alone?" He shook his head. "Guess not. Nobody's completely alone, after all."

--

As pissed as she was at the agent's attitude, Thalia wanted to so desperately channel his harsh words out and just focus on what she wanted to tell Charlie on that voice recording. But before he could even start it, he went on a tirade explaining how she was in the wrong for telling Charlie everything she's done, and the reality of things when their mother and Jon wouldn't. Charlie asked for it, after all, but did that give her the right to dump that load on him at once like she did? She reluctantly listened to Isaac, groaning and rolling her eyes on occasions to show her own disgust and distaste for the direction of their relationship. Not like it mattered if she'd be behind bars soon. What did matter is that her assumption about Charlie having a nervous breakdown was, indeed, true. He panicked. He tried to run away and burst into a puddle of tears and distrust, hardly speaking with Andrew and his daughter, and on a thin line of trust. One tiny lie, and it would snap. To the untrained parent like Thalia, she figured that honesty was going to put Charlie at ease more than just feeding him what he wanted to hear. Otherwise, he wouldn't have specified for the type of explanation he wanted before the SWAT invasion. So, was the breakdown all her fault?

"Child abuse? Come on, asswipe," she scoffed. "I'm already going to jail for the rest of my life. Adding a charge for child abuse for being honest with my brother isn't gonna do shit to me. But how about you think of it this way..." Her head rotated in the direction of her broken arm, trying to motion it forward. Unfortunately, she didn't get very far without groaning agony from the pain. She shouldn't even be moving her arm while it was in two separate casts. Her eyes squinted shut and her teeth grit together before she could muster the strength to speak again. "You see that? You see the piece of work you slimy cops did to me? In front of my brother? Maybe THAT is what caused him to break down. Not my stories as a thief. Maybe you should get your facts straight before you try to make me seem like the bad guy."

Although a pain far worse than the physical one entered Thalia's thoughts... children. She'd never get to have one of her own, and part of her, if Isaac was right, was glad. She wouldn't have to put a child through the horrible care she'd have to call her own. If she could barely keep her eight year old brother out of danger... how could she raise an infant? It was an experience she'd never get to live through, and one that she was even more afraid of than ever.... like everything she learned from Karin was all for nothing.

She didn't speak of it, though. Instead, the timer was started. 3 minutes, 20 seconds already wasted because of Isaac's threats. After he concluded, she signaled him the bird and lowered her mouth in the direction of the voice recorder. She'd be monitored.... but she had a workaround.

Thalia wasn't going to speak to Charlie in English. It was a moment like that that she was glad their mother taught them both French. In the siblings' co-dominant language, she spoke in as optimistic of a tone as she could:

"Hey, Charlie... It's Thalia. I know, this isn't exactly how you wanted to get in touch with me, but I guess this will do. I... I was so worried about you when I saw you get hauled off, and those cops were stepping on me. Guess we have that guy you're staying with to thank, right? I'm.... I guess I'm doing okay. I'm not gonna lie. I was shot. You saw it. I just want you to know that I'm doing okay for now. It still hurts a bit to move my arm, but... I'm tough. Remember when I said we Griffins kick ass? You're seeing it for yourself. Trust me, it looks worse than it really is. I hope that guy's treating you okay. A lot of these cops... aren't very nice to me. Might be because of what I told you? Before we got barged in on? But I promise you, you're going to be okay. I'm... we're all gonna be okay. Hopefully you'll find Maman soon, and Jon, too. I'm not too comfortable with you being around a cop. I swear, if I could pick you up, I would."

For the first time since Isaac walked in.... she smiled, a genuine one, even a slight tear coming down her left eye. But she wasn't done.

"Remember when I said that we'd watch movies together the other day? What was it.... Mission Impossible? What do you say? I... might come home soon. All of us. You. Me. Maman. Jon. We all watch together, huh? I know you're not supposed to watch without an adult with you, been there, done that. But even if it's just us two, I'd love to have a movie night with you. Because you deserve the best, and if you're getting anything less than that, you say so. I don't trust the police or anything like that, and I hope you really are safe wherever you are. You just hang in there. Someday soon, I'll come back for you. Don't you worry.... I love you, Brother."

Now finished, her smile dissolved into a death glare as she moved the voice recorder back to Isaac, waiting for it to dial down to zero, before speaking in English again.

"Fuck you. Don't come back here unless it's with proof of Charlie being unharmed. If it's anything less than that, I'll make good on my threat to scream and claim I recognize you from Al-Asheera. Then there goes your cover, big boy, huh?" She shook her head once again and continued, "And don't talk about my ability to have a child and take care of it or not. Because believe me, you don't know what I've been through to have a taste of the feeling. And like hell am I gonna tell any cop my story."

Not quite true. She was going to tell Richie as soon as Karin's immunity was in place. But she did slowly retreat to the bed, laying back and finally relaxing. Finally... peace. All this man she'd been forced to talk to had to do was leave.

--

It was all too tempting for Richie to step back into the office he and his partner once shared. It was quite a privilege to get an office rather than a cubicle, and given the amount of cases the duo had closed together, it was well-deserved. It was like he told Karin: he and Tony were unstoppable together. Opposites in a way, but in the good sense that they'd balance each other out. Entering the office reassured that assumption. Tony's messy half of the office, and his own half that was more tidy, and significantly more empty with his belongings moved out of the way. The desk was occupied by someone, though. Tony had already picked a new partner? Richie wasn't aware of Frank becoming a detective at the time of his injury, and he'd only heard the name Frank Hale through the negative press surrounding his name. Whatever was happened with his former partner and this Frank Hale, it was clearly shady, as the office didn't seem like it'd been occupied in days. The window wasn't opened, and paperwork was piling up more than usual for Tony's disorganized standards. Oh how he missed the good old days... now on a cane, and popping a few painkillers down his throat in order to keep himself going, he looked upon himself at the shell of the detective he once was. If he couldn't recover, he could kiss his career goodbye.

But a few footsteps from behind him startled Richie in the moment. Still using his cane as a support and hiding his capsule of medication in his inner suit pocket, he turned around slowly to the man at the door. It was about time he'd gotten busted.

"C-Captain Bradshaw..." he greeted hesitantly. He shouldn't have come here, and now it was known by the captain himself that he was coming to work unannounced.
 
"Looked pretty uncomfortable for a sitter telling you that she wasn't happy. Come on, Damien, you can do better than that." He said. He tucked the gun away and reached down to the GPS, punching in 'Los Angeles'. He hit okay, and the GPS calculated the route rather quickly, giving them a rough estimate of a few hours of driving. But James didn't intend on taking a three-hour journey. He immediately slammed his hand down on the lock on the driver's door, thus triggering the central locking system. All the locks went down, and they were in the car with James fully in control. He put his foot on the gas and took off from where he was parked, throwing him and Damien back in their seat at the sudden burst of speed. He coursed through the little town they were in, driving about as quickly as he could until they got out onto the main road.

"Here's how this is going to work." He said, "I've seen discomfort. I've seen 'my friend is being demanding' written all over someone's face before, and your face? Your face was more the... 'I'm about to have my balls cut off and shoved down my throat'. There's a noticeable difference. Don't fuck with me, Damien - I read faces for a fucking living." He said. His foot went down on the gas again.

40 miles per hour.

"Anyway, as I was saying... I'm taking you for a little drive towards LA." He said. "You're going to run me through that conversation you had on the phone, word for word." He said, calmly. "The game will be fair - If I think you're telling the truth, I slow down. If I think you're lying? I go faster."

60 miles per hour.

He joined the highway.

"Remember, Damien - If you drive like lightning, you crash like thunder." He said. "I'd hate for your sister to find out they had to peel you off the fucking highway, wouldn't you?"

Already he was swerving around cars - it was peak time, there were thousands of people on this highway, and already they were getting honked at with every narrow overtake James pulled off.

"So, let's talk about that conversation. Tell me about it." He said.

--

"We may die alone but we spend our lives surrounded by people, Tony." He said. "We all need friends, at the very least. Friends are often the ones who carry you through thick and thin - When the marriage goes to shit or you lose your house, it's friends who are always there for you." He said. "You just keep that in mind whenever you feel like thinking life isn't worth living - it is. It's just a matter of finding reasons in the right places, I guess you could say."

He rose to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, "Things will be fine." He nodded, and then he went inside.

--

"What you have or haven't been through is of no concern to me, Thalia. If this is a backhanded way of you fishing for some sort of sympathy or forgiveness, then it's not going to work." He said. "Don't argue your case as if you're the high and mighty, the innocent in the wrong place. I don't know what my friend sees in you, I really don't - I don't know how he can think for a minute that you've caught a bad rap, but for him, I have to roll with it." He said. "Let's not talk about parenting, because let's get one thing straight - Until you take your head about as far out of your ass as you can get, you're not fit to be a parent - If you don't change, you will never be fit to be one. You've proved that in just the last few days." He said. "I know what Al-Asheera probably did to you, Thalia, and for that I'm sorry. A young girl has no real place in a gang such as that one - You have my sympathy for that, and that only. But everything else? Just remember when you're in the prison shower chowing on the carpet of some big, 6-foot-4 white trash lady... You brought this on yourself." He pointed at her as he tucked the recorder back into his pocket.

"I won't be the one delivering anything to you. Fuck that. My friend can do it himself." He walked out the door. "Merry fucking Christmas, Thalia." He slammed the door shut behind him and quickly made his retreat, taking a back exit out of the hospital about as quick as he could manage. He needed to get out of there and get what he'd gathered to Andrew.

He sat down in the car, taking a deep breath. He needed to go back to HQ - Thalia could have won his trust, but quite simply, she didn't. Now he'd have to go through the hassle of getting translators to make sure she hadn't slipped in some kind of secret code and all of that. The hassle that came from being aggressive, eh? No one could really blame her for being so defensive, but this was just one of those times were fate was tempted too much, and now things were being delayed. The question was, who would get there first? Jon or Isaac? Or would they arrive at the exact same time and see conflict?

Or would Jon come and go, with Charlie not getting to hear any recordings or see any pictures? It was down to fate - and the traffic on the highway.

At least Charlie was getting the chance to let loose and have fun - archery. A harmless - and quiet - sport which could put a smile on anyone's face if they landed a bullseye.

--

The slightly-out-of-shape Captain Bradshaw looked right at him and raised a hand, a finger waving in the air. His brow furrowed and his mouth opened as the finger came down and pointed at Richie. "Now, where do I..." He trailed off, thinking for just a moment. "Ah. Now I remember." He said. "You're meant to be on leave. Which means you're not meant to be here." His hands came to his chest, his arms crossing defensively. "I could technically have you arrested. You're lucky that your office belongs to fugitives - Long story." He shook his head, "But, I do think it's time you stepped into my office so we can have a look at some paperwork, don't you?" He asked.

Paperwork - It was more than likely that that meant 'Discharge Forms', but, time would tell.

He was patient enough, but he lead Richie to his office, albeit slowly to account for his cane. As soon as they were inside, he shut the door over and motioned off to the seat in front of his desk. "Sit, please."

He sat down himself, too, and he pulled four pieces of paper from his cabinet beside his desk and laid them out in front of Richie. All of them official documentation, but obviously had nothing written on them. Yet.

'Dishonorable Discharge', 'Honorable Discharge', 'Suspension', 'Formal Warning'.

It was an old tactic he pulled out his hat sometimes - If someone did something wrong, to get the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, he'd play this game. All four options they had - People were terrified of the first two, scared of the third one, and uncomfortable with the fourth. By the time they'd had a look over those pages, they were ready to spill.

"So, can you tell me why you're here unauthorized? Your papers specifying your paid leave stated you're not allowed to be here unless you arrange to meet with Command or Higher, and even then, that's only for status reports and just general upkeep, really." He shrugged. "You shouldn't be walking around the offices, though, so... Do feel free." He pressed the top of his pen down and spun the four pages back around to face him, at the ready to fill out any single one of them.
 
So much for there being a sort of trust. James wasn't convinced, and now had a trial of his own to shake whatever happened on that phone call. A speedrun through LA? Admittedly, Damien had sped through the highways of the city before, but was never in the passenger seat of doing so. He was thrown back in his seat the second James accelerated, now forced to go into details about what EXACTLY happened. James was a tough nut to crack or convince, and Damien would have to go the extra mile to ensure that he was being honest. In truth,, he couldn't be. If he asks to send a few men to pick up his sister, it might be too late. Vicky specified no cops, which probably implied no outside influence. Sending an army of suited men to grab a girl wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it to drag an 11 year old girl into business she had nothing to do with. Three other children were already paying that price, as Damien had seen.

He gulped as he saw the speedometer gain in number. 40... then 60. Soon enough they wouldn't be street legal.

"I already told you," he barked with a bit more confidence in his voice, a bit furious that he was being taken through more desperate measures. At least it was hiding his nervousness. Did he fear James would crash the car? Not really, if he was as 'professional' as he claimed to be. "But if you must, I'll elaborate. Angie picked up the phone first. She was asking me where I was. She was worried sick because I never came home after I promised her the night together. I explained the excuse I just told you: a movie crew that retreated from LA to Sacramento that wanted to see me again after a failed audition from not long ago. That's the ONLY lie in that whole story. I'm sure as hell not telling her I'm tagging along with some master criminals. When she heard that news, she was overjoyed. Ecstatic. She was rooting for me to get the part, jumping and cheering. Congratulating me. I don't think she's been that happy in a while. She went quiet for a second, then told me the sitter wanted a word with me."

That was it with the truthful part. Now for the... less than honest part that needed convincing. Making every panicked expression and word he said seem like something less suspicious.

"I knew she'd have an issue with having to work extra hours, and the first thing she did was call my bluff. Accused me of living a reckless life, that I'm lying to Angie to take a break from her, then throwing it all on the sitter. She didn't think I was in Sacramento, but I talked her into it. She also accused me of being reckless because me and Angie COINCIDENTALLY ran into Thalia Griffin at our breakfast. Angie got wise, vented to the sitter. But I cleared up that incident. That nobody got hurt, and the mystery redhead didn't want any trouble. Hell, we didn't know until later when the police showed up that she was possibly a criminal. Then she went on to call me names, make other bold accusations about my life decisions. Why I disappear so much, those times I was conducting research about Al-Asheera without Angie knowing? She was becoming a pain in the ass. I told her to fuck herself and that we'd discuss her future with Angie when I come home."

Throughout the journey, Damien maintained a solid facial expression, though panicked on the inside, was a bit more confident with time. He'd brace himself for the worst, every close call veering by traffic and the increasing speed. The question was... how believable was this? And would it be his last trial?

"I swear, that's all that happened. I came back so tensed because it's just gonna be a hassle when this is over. I swear to you, nothing is going on without you knowing."

--

Have a look at paperwork... before even taking another step, Richie could tell that was bad news for him. He was caught red-handed, snooping around the offices, asking questions where he shouldn't, and taking matters into his own hands. And there wasn't much to hide anymore. That paperwork in question could only spell the end of his career. Was he in over his head by entertaining the thought of possibly believing Karin that his career could be propelled, even with his injury? Or was he the one being swindled, even if he does grant Karin immunity and end the life of Roland Simmons? Dealing with criminals was now second in priorities as opposed to explaining his presence to the captain. Slowly and in baby steps on his stick, he followed Bradshaw to his office and took a seat before his desk. Finally, some rest. Painkillers could only do so much for him if he was standing for so long. He shouldn't even be up for more than a few minutes, according to his doctor. So he was technically breaking many people's words by going out on a limb like this.

Those options of paperwork were all a one-way ticket to an ugly ending, and if all of them could be avoided, it would save his ass. Fortunately, a plan was set just in case he were to be caught. Not one involving his influence around here, but one involving his progress.

"You said Tony and his partner are fugitives," Richie began, tilting his head in the general direction of where the office was. "Huh. They're not being subtle about it. It didn't take more than a quick ask to a friend of mine to figure out that they've been acting suspicious and haven't been at work all week. Then Frank Hale is wanted in a murder investigation, and Tony is taken into FBI custody. Now, I don't know what to believe in this madness. Tony's phone has been dead all week, and the only answer to the questions I've asked around is, 'he's with the FBI', even though it's clear as day that he's not. So you know, Captain, all of this? I figured out without even getting out of my wheelchair at home. Just watch the news. This shit is everywhere, and nothing's hidden anymore."

He adjusted his seating on the chair, twirling the cane a bit in his left hand between his fingers, then fixing it properly on the floor. "Then came the news reports about a mansion being raided in Encino. An anonymous tip reported that Thalia Griffin, the mystery redhead, was going to be there, along with Tony, and a few of their associates, including that grey-hat hacker Fritzy. And I don't think you should expect me to sit idly by when I hear that the mystery redhead was caught. But nobody else was found in that place besides her best friend, who I had a chat with not long ago, and little brother, whose whereabouts I haven't been able to figure out. No Tony, unfortunately, because I wanted to face him personally to see what was going on. Why he's been rogue for so long. But fortunately for you, Captain, just by talking to Thalia Griffin and Karin Held, I've found out more about Al-Asheera in 12 hours than Philly PD has in 20 years, just by being nice to our only two leads and not shooting them out of spite or depriving them of their rights. Part of which you've already seen on the recording the other day. I broke the mystery redhead. And she's willing to deliver a full confession with her only condition being that her friend is released. I know, it's hard to trust a thief and a liar like her, especially give what we know she's capable of, but the woman I saw in there was one who wanted to right her wrongs. A woman with nothing to lose and just wanted to protect whoever she cares about. Her family? She's lost her father, according to the news. Her mother? We didn't find her in Encino. And her brother's still out there, too. Keep in mind, Karin is merely a guppy in comparison to Thalia. So I don't see why we shouldn't let her go. Let go of the little fish to secure a bigger catch."

He cleared his throat, now worried that one of those papers would be signed, and his fate would be sealed. "Captain, tell me you've heard the recording of our conversation. Tell me that's not a woman looking to repent. She's even named the new leader of Al-Asheera. It's Reeves. I sure as hell hope that you've briefed the others about this. That one of our own is leading Al-Asheera. Probably responsible for that bomb threat yesterday. And probably who leaked the location of the Encino mansion. It hurts to admit since me and Tony worked with him for years, but if he's dirty like Griffin claims he is, we need all hands on deck to find him and put him behind bars. But for now, if we want to start with something, you should put those files about discharging or suspending me away and instead make some calls to get the charges dropped off Karin Held's back. Once we have proof that she's free, Griffin will talk in full detail. I can handle that interrogation, since she'll cooperate with me. We also have that other fellow to look into as well. Roland Simmons? Karin Held claims he was in on some of the more corrupt works of Al-Asheera. Murder, pedophilia... really deep. She at first thought Simmons was dead, but as it turns out, he's alive. Damaged, but alive. And I'm sure as hell going to take that lead as well. I know, this was all off the radar, but Captain..." He looked down to his cane once again. "Would you have let me make this much progress if I came up to you in a cane, or in a wheelchair, and asked nicely?"

That was a definite no. There would have to be some reprimand in store, but how serious would it be? And would Bradshaw ever figure out that Richie was CONSIDERING killing Roland?
 
"Ohhh, okay, so you gave her a nice convincing story and then you told her to fuck herself? Bit of an interesting way to treat the only person who's there to look after your sister, isn't it?" He asked. At first, he started to slow down - during the first section of Damien's story, that is, but then towards the end of it, he started to speed up again - this time simply putting his foot down.

60.

70.

80.

90.

100.

Now they were really going fast, narrowly missing several vehicles, many of which were heavy cars or semi-trucks. The wheels screeched and spun on the surface with every harsh turn of the wheel he did, and each time he gave a quick steer, they started spinning out just a little bit. Thankfully James had the right amount of skill and control to stop them from spinning out entirely. If they spun out at this speed, they'd without a single doubt roll the car, and they'd be done for.

"Come on, Damien... You're smarter than that, and I know you are." He said, his voice a little quicker. Even for a pro, driving this fast was exhilarating. "We're heading straight for LA and I have my ways - If everything you're saying is true, then I'm sure your sitter wouldn't mind a visit from myself or the cops to clear everything up, would she?" He asked.

110.

--

At the FBI HQ, Isaac had found the next most trusted guy in his circle to translate the little recording he'd been given. Fucking French - why didn't he think of that and tell her there was a limit on the language she could use? Two could play at the mystery game, and her lack of cooperation was just costing more time for all parties involved, Charlie included. He had someone run through the recording and write it down word for word. What did it mean, what was she saying, did she say anything bad or questionable? To his surprise, she didn't say much that threw people under the bus, and if anything it sounded like she was in some ways thankful for Andrew stopping whatever commotion was going on in that bedroom that day. Isaac may have misjudged how much she was willing to follow his rules.

Maybe it was a waste of time getting it translated, but you can never be too careful. He took the recording and the translation and started to make his way to Andrew's place. He'd be getting there in the nick of time, too. He'd probably have just enough time to show Charlie the recording before Jon got there. With Isaac's somewhat explosive attitude, would he and Jon clash, or would they get out of it without a skirmish? It was hard to say, really. Only time would tell.

--

Bradshaw sat there and stared at him for a minute, listening to his story. A few things did catch his ear - he'd spoken to two of the main suspects here, for one, but the interesting part was how Thalia Griffin herself was willing to offer a confession for the release of Karin Held? It was almost too good to be true. She'd give up everything for some random girl they had in lockup? What was the story behind those two? He guessed to find out, he'd need the confession - or maybe Richie already knew. It had turned from an unpleasant surprise to a bit of an eye-opener, and for a while, he sat there dead quiet. He didn't say a word, didn't respond to some of the things that Richie was probably expecting an answer to.

Simply, he just sat there, head in hands, peering over the desk at Richie and waiting. Waiting for him to stop speaking. Waiting for something.

"Maybe I wouldn't have given you a fair shot if you'd wheeled in here, no." He shook his head, "Even in full health, Richie, if your medical leave hadn't expired, then I wouldn't have given you a fair shot. It's a ballsy move you've pulled." He frowned, then reached down to the four bits of paper in front of him and picked up the first three, tucking them away. That left one thing - the formal warning.

He picked up a pen in one hand and his phone in the other, hitting an extension on the keypad, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.

On the warning page, he scribbled, 'Breach of medical leave conditions.' and signed it at the bottom. A little warning instead of a discharge? Certainly the more preferred choice, surely. He had to cover ground. If CCTV was reviewed and showed Bradshaw catching him but not actually doing anything about it, chances were he'd lose his job, too. Not something he could afford to do, not after all these years.

The phone was picked up on the other end.

"Hello, Chief?" Bradshaw leaned back, "I need ya' down in my office for something, if you don't mind. It's urgent."

"I've got a meeting in five minutes. Can it wait?"

"It's about Thalia Griffin. She's willing to offer a confession, but... She's got terms."

...

...

...

"I'll be right down."

So, the chief himself came into the room before too long, and Bradshaw jumped to it and started relaying everything that Richie had told him. The chief was an older gentleman, of course, but he was by far the scariest motherfucker in the department. People didn't even want him breathing too close to them, for whatever reason. He wore his stars with pride, of course. And now here he was in an office with a Captain and a Detective, who had a hardly-believable story about one of the biggest criminal cases of the century. At first the Chief looked unsure - he didn't seem like he believed a word of it, in fact, but over time his frown disappeared and he looked more and more curious with every passing minute.

And at the end...

Bradshaw said, ".. if we release Karin and prove it, we get a confession. But only if Karin walks free."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He asked, then looked between the two men. "The LAPD could solve one of America's biggest cases. Do you know what that would do for us?" He let out a laugh, almost in disbelief. "Bradshaw, scrap that warning you've written out. No need for it." He said, and he took the page himself, screwed it up, and put it in his pocket. He turned to Richie - this could be good or bad. "You've broken some major rules, my friend." He put both his hands on his shoulders. "But you've both done the right thing. So well done." He said, and he shook Richie's hand, then Bradshaw's, then made for the door. "Process things, sweeten the deal and take Karin directly to Thalia if you want to, have them speak, proof she's free and all that. Take the paperwork - I don't care, but bring someone along for that confession, ASAP. Recorders, security, you name it - I want the best."

"Y'sir." Bradshaw nodded slowly and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Richie once the door had closed over again. "Well." He said, shrugging slowly.
 
The first half of the slightly distorted tale, which was not a lie at all, was received well, as Damien didn't even have to look at the speedometer to realize that James was taking it easy for those few brief moments. But it was beyond the part of Angie's excitement that seemed rough; it was, indeed, there that James wasn't convinced. And he still wasn't, feeling the speed creep back up to it's original degree, and getting faster by the second. Damien's heart felt like it was sinking in place, his entire body leaning back against the chair behind him as they climbed in speed, darting by cars in a series of near misses. 110 mph - how much further could this car be pushed? How much further could they luck be pushed in general before they careen into a wall or spin out by the loss of control? James might've been a skilled driver... but in traffic? That was pushing it. Damien clenched his heart then turned to the driver, eyes shot out at the next proposition: going to the cops and asking them to check up on things at his place.

"No, don't you dare!" he barked, clearly showing guilt in that instance, but all he could think about was the promise to hurt Angie. He had to cover from the fumble. If Vicky sees cops out the window, she'll hurt his sister. But James? He might've had the look of a shady grey-hat hacker, but he definitely didn't have the look of a cop. "Not the police, I'm begging you. I don't want my sister or the sitter to be involved or panicked. She's just a little girl, for Christ's sake. Do you want to drag another child into this? She's safer in the dark than with cops knocking on the door. Potentially dirty cops. Besides, what the hell would you tell the police, anyway? What kind of excuse would pass? If you want to confirm anything, then do it yourself. Please. But don't freak her out. Either way, I believe the sitter said they'd be going out in the morning, and I didn't ask where. So if you wanna check up on them, at least abide by some conditions, please!"

At this point, Damien was begging, but wouldn't break. A swarm of cops or crooks to reclaim Angie wouldn't end well, at least so he thought. He was doing his best not to give it away. And at this rate? If he was going to pay the price of lying, so would James in case this goes wrong and they crash. "So.... just get this," his breathing began to grow heavier, clinging to the safety hook by the window to his right. "You stop by later as a lost tourist. You see everything is as I said it'd be. And then you snap out of this paranoia. Because I swear to you, this is ANYTHING but a lie! Please!"

--

So many questions, requests, even excused in the mix... and yet, one fact appealed to the captain: Thalia Griffin's confession in exchange for Karin Held's immunity. It was the most appealing part of the deal - the infamous mystery redhead, not only caught, but confessing to all of her crimes. Was this all just a ploy for her to go down for as many of Al-Asheera's crimes as she could and leave the LAPD with nothing left? Richie didn't believe so. Last night, her words were sincere - she wanted to change for the better and do some good while she still had a chance. And that meant bringing down her own organization. Perhaps she'd lost hope in any sort of freedom beyond this day. She might even be sent back to Philly to face the death penalty. As scary as the thought was, she wanted to do some good as her last acts. That meant secrets about Al-Asheera, finally revealed to the LAPD and their higher-ups. Some clarification at long last. And Bradshaw was going to allow for it, even if Richie had broken protocol. He was on board the deal of the confession for her friend's immunity, and even better? No discharge... just a formal warning? His mind took a deep sigh of relief, as Bradshaw was only going to knock him for breaking his medical leave. All for the greater good, the takedown of the century, as they were calling it now.

There was a phone call in the mix, too. To the Chief. Given Bradshaw's lack of many words, Richie assumed this could probably mean something was wrong. But the conversation told of their plan to release Karin and get Thalia to talk. And from the sounds of the one side he was on, the man was on his way to hear the full story. A great relief: Bradshaw was on their side and thinking ahead, and not up his ass. One of the problems of his past partner, Tony, was that he'd chase an insane theory to the end, and even become obsessed to the degree that all logic of the big picture just vanishes. It was the likes of a more level-headed Richie that kept his partner in check.

Oh, how things had changed for the injured detective now that he was going off the books. But it was coming to help him rather than harm him.

Richie endured the struggle of standing up once again when the chief had arrived. It was clear that he was dependent on the cane, and wasn't too shy about it. He took a bullet that nearly paralyzed him, after all. It was a miracle that he even hauled himself this far in the first place. Bradshaw took the liberty of explaining the highlights... and the chief was just as convinced. To his relief, the LAPD wasn't as corrupt as he'd assumed. At least the higher-ups weren't. Not only that, but it seemed they were going to have mercy on Richie... that formal warning? Scrapped, by the chief's orders. Unbelievable. He'd dodged a bullet in that instance, and he even produced a grin from ear to ear to show his gratitude. Maybe Karin was right - maybe all of this would help his career rather than harm it. The chief approached the injured detective, face to face, and credited his insane approach to the situation... and in turn shook his hand.

Taking the hand of his superior and shaking it firmly, Richie nodded. "Thank you, Chief. Just doing my job... Not like I expected that nasty bullet to put me down forever, eh?"

After the exchange of handshakes... it was showtime. The chief put the next set of responsibilities on the chief and detective, and it seemed the ball was in Richie's court.

"The Chief's right," he continued, "No need to waste time. We should get Miss Held processed and the paper work taken care of. I do suggest we bring her along as sufficient proof for Griffin that she's been released. We should also give them some alone time to say good-bye. I take it from when I spoke to them that they're close friends, after all... With that, we bring whoever we need along for the confession. No problem with doing it at the hospital, right? She's insistent on giving a statement, too. Any witness who need to observe can come along. I'll record the conversation as well, just like last time. She's got a lot to say, and I have two requests now that this is before us. The first is that I conduct the questioning. Griffin trusts me after our little chat last night, and odds are, she'll be more open if a familiar face like myself guides her through the ordeal. But that's a minor detail. I think the second one might be a tad more... difficult." He sighed, bowing his head slightly. "Griffin doesn't deserve the death penalty. Not for what she is. You saw in that recording last night. She's just a lost kid who got caught up with the wrong crowd. She wants to make a change, and I'm not buying that she's the terrorist that the media makes her out to be. Nor do I... well..." Was he truly about to confess what he'd told Karin earlier? "I don't believe she shot me. After some thought back on that day... I now remember who brought me down to this state, to have to leave the job I love. And I can tell you now, it's not the mystery redhead. She's not the brute everyone makes her out to be. This isn't a cry to give her a get-out-of-jail-free card, hell no. She's done plenty wrong. But I am suggesting.... no death penalty. Minimal security facility. The more comfortable she is with her future, the more likely she will be to cooperate. Don't you agree?"

Perhaps that would win him more bonus points from Fritzy for keeping Thalia alive? If he still has any investment in the mystery redhead.
 
"Oh, it seems I've hit a nerve." James said, the slightest part of a smile coming onto his face. "No cops? You seem very adamant about not having a single patrol car go and check things out, so that to me screams that there's more to this than you're letting me in on. No cops. Huh." He slowly reached into his pocket with one hand - now things were getting dangerous. "Getting the police to check on things wouldn't be dragging her into any of this, and you know that very well. Plus, if you didn't want her dragged into it...?" He shook his head. "You wouldn't have gotten in the car with me in the first place." He said.

His foot went down a little more.

Finally, the car was redlining, the engine was labouring - 120MPH.

"You're ex Al-Asheera. Why the fuck do you think I'm putting you through all this? The lot of you are nothing but snakes - and exceptional liars. They've killed your mother, tried to kill your father, and if there's one thing I've learned about them it's that they don't stop until everything you love is hurt or destroyed. You don't do what they want? They threaten your loved ones. You betray them? They kill everyone. It's how it works. It's what they've already done to one of us, and it's what they want to do to Thalia even more than they already have. You expect me to believe that you're not on their watchlist? That you just walked away, shook some hands, and that was the end of it? Please. In any sort of gang, even the scummiest gang in fucking East LA, wouldn't let you just 'walk away'. They never do."

His eyes went back and forth between his phone and the road as he pinned in a number. He called it, and Samsung's handy little number-name matcher brought up the number's ID: Los Angeles Police Department.

"We play by my rules, Damien. I guess we're going to have to find out why you're so scared of cops, aren't we?" He asked.

'Hello, LAPD.'

"Hi, I'm calling up with a small concern about my niece. She's only eleven and I'm out of town right now - She's staying with a babysitter, but, I've had a few friends tell me they've used the same babysitter before and I'm concerned for her safety. She's had a few complaints and I was wondering if you could send a unit by the house just to make sure everything's alright?"

He looked at Damien again, maybe looking away from the road for a little too long, just to study his face. He was driving with one hand, using the phone with the other - this whole thing was a death race.

--

It was a big request, his final one. Let her have the pleasure of escaping the death penalty?

"In all honesty, you know as well as I do that that's not for me to decide. That's left down to the courts." He said. "But, what we can do is have the LAPD vouch for her to only be given a life sentence, say. Not a death penalty." He said. "You know how things are, Richie, with the way the system is, she'll live and die in prison. People who have this amount under their belt end up getting upwards of 100 years behind bars. Menaces to society and all that." He waved a hand. "Obviously it's not me who gets to make the call on if the LAPD sides with the non-death agreement. I'll have a word with the chief on the way there and see if he'd be down for that sort of courtroom handout. If he is, happy days." He nodded. "I also think it should be the chief himself that presents the release forms. Signed by him. It'll make things seem far more authentic than having a Captain or a Detective do it." He said.

"You've studied Griffin and her band of thieves long enough to earn a degree in it, so, feel free to take lead on the questioning. In the meantime, why don't you do the honors of getting Miss Held out of her cell?" He asked. "I'll have the paperwork ready by the time she's back. My signature will be on it, and all we'll need after that is the Chief to finalize it - A nice touch, actually. We'll have him do it in front of Thalia, so she knows it's not forged. That just sweetens the deal - Karin knows she runs free, Thalia knows her sacrifice isn't going to be twisted up by us, and we all go home happy." He said, and he began rooting through some paperwork in a drawer. Eventually, he pulled a sheet from it that was clearly a release form.

"Go fetch her, Richie. Wait in the lobby, yes? I'll be with you shortly, just as soon as this is filled out."

In the hallway, Richie bumped into someone else - The Chief, once again.

"Ah, I was just coming to find you." He said. "Once we have things ready, please, you and Captain Bradshaw, as well as Miss Held, are welcome to join me in my private vehicle to the hospital. It's a big day - we need to look good, don't we?" He let out a tiny laugh and patted his shoulder a few times, followed by speeding out of the hallway and down the stairs, adjusting his tie as he did so. He seemed more excited for the whole thing more than anything else, but, at least he was enthusiastic.
 
A good majority of James' taunts and doubtful words went upon deaf ears to an overly-panicked Damien. He was clenching that emergency handle above him as hard as he could, the speed cranking up a notch further, and a near miss with a semi particularly catching his eye. And yet, James wouldn't become convinced. His panicked response about the cops didn't particularly help his case, so much to the point that, rather than respect his wishes... flat out called the police. Was this a bluff? It couldn't be, judging by that caller ID. His heart sank. One patrol car passing by, and it might be game over for his sister. Think, Damien... The truth was nearly about to come out of his lips. It would mean he gets caught in a lie, but it also would save Angie from certain death. No address or name was given yet, so he still had a chance to save himself. All he had to do was say that his babysitter was a sleeper, and she revealed that to him on call. It would be the easy way out. But it would surely prompt a response out of James. Send men to the house to kill the sitter and collect his sister. And THAT would surely put her safety and innocence in question. Far too messy, and who's to say that Vicky won't hurt Angie before answering the door to a suspicious figure? And even if only one person showed up and neutralized the sitter, how would they convince Angie to come along besides hoisting her off her feet and dragging her out?

Tempting, but messy....

"The sitter is threatening me! You can't call the police!" he cried out, extending his hand forward to swipe the phone out of James' hand, or at least curve it enough to get a press on the 'end call' option. Surely, distracting a driver going at double the legal speed limit would be risky, especially considering all the near missed he'd seen, so he had to keep spraying. "The sitter, Vicky...." he panted, feeling the sweat drip from his hairline down his forehead. "She's got information over me, and bringing the police in her direction will put.... me, in danger."

A twist? Bringing cops would've costed Angie, not him. So what was going on in Damien's mind? "James... she found a picture of me with Al-Asheera tattoos. And she recognized them on the news when they broadcasted pictures of Thalia Griffin and her tattoo descriptions." He was speaking quickly, squinting his eyes shut to get James to slow down. Never had he felt so panicked in his life. "She started accusing me of still working for them. She went as far as a threat to call the police, and THAT'S why I told her to fuck herself. It didn't help that Angie said we'd met the mystery redhead yesterday. She seriously thinks I still work for them, and will call the police if I don't return home sometime tomorrow, which is what I promised her to silence her. And she said that if cops show up at her doorstep, she'll express her doubts to the police. I'll be busted, which is exactly what I didn't want. I got those tatts removed for a reason. I wanted to move on, beyond my life in Philly, and exposing me like Thalia was exposed won't help that at all."

Damien was tense, trying not to look forward, but he could feel every bit of the turns they were making. "If you send a cop over there, Vicky will tell him I work for Al-Asheera. They'll take Angie from me. Throw me in prison. And I can tell you.... THAT is getting her involved in this mess. She already knows I did some bad things, and she believes that I've changed my ways, and forgives me... don't ruin that image of me in her mind, please." The begging continued, but to what extent would THAT lie go? Damien couldn't get more convincing than a broken man whose secret was about to be blown for the world to see and a sister who would be separated. It was a story James might be able to relate to, given how Thalia was locked up, and, if Charlie weren't found by a federal agent with a different outlook on the situation, he'd be thrown into the system as well, maybe to never see his sister again. It was his last hurrah before James probably ejects him from the vehicle.

It wouldn't stop James from sending one of his men over there, but hopefully his cries for keeping Angie distant would speak to him enough to stand down.

--

Richie nodded. "Understood, Captain. I'm sure... you might be interested to hear Thalia Griffin's story firsthand. No infamous crook doesn't have a back story behind their life of crime. Miss Griffin? When you hear what she has to say, what she's been through over the past week, you'll see that death isn't a fate she necessarily deserves. Life in prison? Possibly with the justice system we have. But her story is one for a jury to hear before making a decision. You'll see that soon enough."

Not only that, but the idea of the Chief coming along to sign the paperwork in front of Thalia was the icing on the cake. It would ensure that this isn't a trap. Karin's release, in writing and in the flesh. "Excellent. I'll speak to Miss Held about our arrangement, tell her she'll be taking a trip with us to see her friend, then she can walk. I'm sure she's not gonna pass up that offer. Everyone wins in this case. Even Griffin wins in one way or another. So... looks like we've got it all settled. All we need now is our bargaining chip. I'll go get her..." As he began to walk, he realized he had a few last words to give the superior. "Captain? .... Thank you. Thank you for seeing things for how they are. I wouldn't have broken my medical leave if I didn't know I could put this to bed."

Which indeed he planned to do as he made his way out into the hallway, only to face yet another encounter. A good one, one-on-one, with the Chief, who further applauded his efforts and offered a ride in his private vehicle to the hospital. Interesting... Karin gave him the talk about how negotiating in her favor might work in his favor, promotions and all. Is that what he had in store if he could never be a field detective again? He grinned in confidence as he nodded, placing both hands over his cane. "That's greatly appreciated, Chief. I thank you again for getting that formal warning off my belt. I assure you, I've never broken a rule in this department until now... now that I felt I had to. I was just on my way to brief Miss Held about the trip and get her out of her cell. We'll meet you with the captain in the lobby. Thank you, again."

It was almost like the injured detective was getting a sort of royal treatment now. The higher-ups were looking at him rather highly. Is it because he broke the mystery redhead? Was it that big of a deal? It was the bulk of his work this past month, after all. Even while he was bedridden, it was still the thing cycling through his mind above all else. Now, finally, it could come to a conclusion.

But first, Karin Held. He returned down the flight of stairs to the holding cells, taking a look at the wall by his side and snatching the master key. She was going to walk out sooner than she'd expected. Hopefully, nobody upstairs minded that he was taking his time up and down stairs as to not cause him any pain. His steps might be slow, but his train of thought certainly wasn't. His mind was racing at the thought of good things in his future. A possible promotion for having a hand in bringing down Al-Asheera. He, and maybe even his past partner Tony, could probably enjoy that honor, if he does find out where Tony went after all this time. For now: Karin. He stood before the cell, his left hand holding himself up on the cane while his right wielded the keys and placed them through the key lock. He gave the prisoner a faint smile, reassuring her that things would soon go her way, and much quicker than either had anticipated. Once the lock clicked, he placed his hand on the bars of the cell door and slid it to the side, allowing a path for Karin to walk free.

"Your immunity deal, as negotiated by Thalia Griffin, is being finalized as we speak," he began. "Fast, right? Apparently, the chief really wants to bring this case to a close and nail your friend, and if that means releasing a guppy like you, he'll happily sign it right in the mystery redhead's face if that means she'll confess. Not only that, but you're going to be given a chance to say good-bye to your friend, not only as a means of proof that you're a free woman, but also as a sentiment to the friendship you described to me when we first began our discussion. You will be released to go back to wherever you please..." He sighed as he came to the next part of the discussion. "...and Fritzy will remain out of the equation. Neither the Chief nor Captain even know about what you told me about his involvement. All they know is details about Thalia. If you wish to give them further details about our talk, I won't stop you. But you're practically free now, Miss Held. It's nearly official. You're going to come along with us in the Chief's private vehicle, talk to Griffin, then we'll take it from there. We are also negotiating that she avoids the death penalty, which should make you happy. As for the second part of our deal.... Roland Simmons..." He shook his head, rather doubtfully. "That's gonna be tough in the position I'm in. But, you will find him on the same floor as Griffin, if you'd like to take care of him. If you would like to put in my good word to your boyfriend.... be my guest. But know I have no intention of ratting him out when we have Al-Asheera on a silver platter, thanks to your freedom."

He then stepped out of the way of the cell, allowing for her to step out. "I'm trusting you with no cuffs. I do hope you accept my apologies about how my fellow cops and the SWAT team treated you before this moment. But hey, not many people get the opportunity you have. So... you're gonna take it?"
 
He hung up the phone as soon as Damien blurted out.

"If that's the case, then your babysitter is a liability." He said, "I'm not having anyone compromise anything - not you, not me, not Thalia, not even the fucking mailman. If she's threatening you, then simple, she goes. No arguments. I don't give a fuck how good of friends you might be, or if this preppy bitch is a second mother to your sister - Honestly, I don't care for any of that. Look at you, man." He waved a hand and put his phone down by the center console. "You're here crying because some stuck up bitch is threatening you with cops? Where's their evidence? They haven't got shit on you. She hasn't got shit on you - but us? Me? You? We've got everything on her, from her name to how much of a drop we'll get on her." He said.

He slowed down. Quickly, too - they dropped from red-line to 70mph. Back in the legal limit.

"I understand if you don't want your sister involved. You've probably heard of Joseph - Karin's brother - he's ten and he's been dragged into this by the hair. Is that what I wanted? No, of course not, but the only reason he got dragged in is because I let people walk all over me." He reached out and gave a punch to Damien's shoulder. "I let them push me around. Make demands. Even threaten me. And now Joseph's been through more than any child his age should go through. Do I feel bad? Of course." He shrugged. "If you're really at risk, do you think following her terms will really help you out? You think if you show up again tomorrow morning that she'll forget all about it? Yeah, right." He said. "You're smarter than that, and I know you are. In this game things don't just flutter away like that. It's what people like us call 'loose ends'."

He leaned back and took a deep breath. "And now it's time to tie them up."

He showed no signs of rerouting.

"So, your sister stays away from the heart of this whole thing - deal. Loud and clear. Things can be arranged and as far as she's concerned, her babysitter had to fly across the country for a family emergency. Hence why someone new comes onto the scene, right? You're nowhere in sight until it comes to you being needed to pick her up - urgently - and take her to the newer babysitter, carer, whatever the fuck. Once again, she's none the wiser. She just knows it as a slight change of plan - nothing major to worry about." He shrugged again. "Then we go home as if nothing ever happened. Your less-than-helpful babysitter vanishes, and hey presto, we all live happy."

"Now I'm going to be a bit more blunt - Al-Asheera. If they find out you're in prison - which you will be if you believe a word of what this woman's saying - they're going to kill you, and they're going to kill your sister. Your sister first, though, and your father. They'll send a video of them hacking off their heads with a switchblade right to your jail cell. Then they'll kill you. Not only that, but, you're now what I like to call a 'probably liability' - Let me elaborate. In my terms, a probable liability is more likely to cause myself and my associates problems than they are to actually contribute anything. So far, you've been more of a ballache to me than anyone helpful. You've given me some information, sure, but if you bring cops to a papertrail you've left behind, what you've told me means virtually nothing."

He cleared his throat, "Now, I usually give a probable liability a choice - They get three options. These are yours - You go with my plan and we ensure things are 100% safe, no loose ends, no witnesses, and your sister being somewhere with someone where she can't be used as leverage. Option two - I ingore whatever you say and do things myself, thus dragging your sister into the bad business and thus giving you the job of explaining to her what's going on, or, three - I pull over, push you out the car on the side of the highway, and I leave you to do things alone." He said.

Not the widest scope of options, but hey.

"So, what's it going to be? Are you going to turn from a probable liability into a... Likely contribution?"

--

She was surprised to see things going her way far sooner than she expected. At first she thought it was some cruel prank, but her skeptical look vanished as Richard's words continued. Good lord. She was actually getting out? And Thalia was going to confess? She was even going to get to see Thalia, as it happened. This was amazing but depressing at the same time - on top of everything, James had been left out of any conversations. She could only smile at all of that. The idea that Richard had considered what she'd said seriously - it was perfect, and of course, she was going to deliver.

Then came the kicker, though. She could take care of Roland?

Could she?

She'd never killed before - but part of her liked to think she'd enjoy putting an end to his misery. He didn't deserve to live on. It would be easy - grab a doctor's coat from a laundry basket in the hospital, creep in, and just adjust the morphine so it floods his system and makes his heart stop. He'd be dead in minutes - less than that, given his state. After so much blood loss, a severe brain injury, and torture, he wouldn't be able to take a morphine overdose.

She looked at Richard.

"I'll do it." She whispered, "But if I do, you need to make sure you keep them distracted. All of them. By the time the day's up, Roland will be dead, and with a bit of luck, providing I can find him, Fritzy will know about what you've done today." She said. "I'm no liar, Detective. I meant what I said - Your help won't go unnoticed. I can't promise immediate results, but, if you're patient... Your life is going to get a lot better. Same for your family. I'll make sure that happens." She said, stepping out of the cell. "Of course I'm going to take the opportunity." She said.

And from there they went off to the chief's private car. A limo, of course, and they were driven to the hospital where Thalia was being held. Karin was nervous, but the fact that she was here, and had been reassured by the chief that she was being released, just showed this was all happening. For real. She had no idea how she was going to contact James, though. Was James even safe? Did he make it out? Were they still in the bunker or had they packed up and left? She'd have to check. She'd ask the chief to drop her off so she could get her car, or something.

But for now, it was time to see Thalia. They were at the hospital in no time, and soon they were in the same hallway as her room - they had everyone. Richie, the Chief, members of SWAT, other police officers... All of them were stationed outside the hallway, more than anything. Anyone who looked suspicious, they checked out. But they were taken right through, straight to Thalia's room. This was the moment of truth.

The chief opened the door and stepped in, and Karin soon followed.

--

Andrew's Home

"She wants proof that he's okay, and not being held against his will."

"I still can't believe you managed to get into a fight with her."

"Well, she's a pushy bitch."

"Okay, Isaac..." Andrew patted his shoulder. "You've got a picture and a recording, yes?"

"Mhm... Picture's been changed ever so slightly so it's a bit lighter. Makes her injuries look less severe, but, the injuries are still present, of course. Generally she doesn't look as beat up."

"I see. And the recording?"

"Mhm. And the translation - she said it in French." He said, and pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket and held it out to Andrew. He took it and read over it, quickly.

"Nice." He nodded once. "At least we know it's nothing bad. The poor kid's been through enough."

"How is he?"

"Coping. Faye's giving him an archery lesson." He nodded. "I think he's enjoying himself. In fact..." He lead him through to the kitchen and pulled out his phone, going to the camera. He zoomed in on Charlie and Faye and took a picture, just to show that Charlie wasn't in any danger and was free to take part in an activity such as archery - with a girl who looked no older than a young teenager herself. Surely that would be evidence enough that things were okay. "I'd best call him in." He said, simply, and he opened the back door and yelled out to them both.

"Hey, Charlie!" He called, "I need you to come inside for just a second, okay?"

Faye looked down at him, "Best go see him. I'll wait here." She smiled and gently patted his head, putting the bow aside for a moment. She sat on the grass and checked her phone while she waited.

When Charlie arrived, Andrew waved a hand towards Isaac. "Charlie, this is Isaac, a good friend of mine who's been helping me look for your mom and Jon. He's been to visit your sister today, and he got a picture and a voice message from her, like I told you about?" He asked. He took Andrew's phone from him, and he showed him the picture and gave him the chance to have a good look at it. "That's her now. She doesn't look too bad, does she?" He asked, giving a tiny smile. "And here's the recording..." He scrolled onto the next stored media, and, without hesitation, he hit play and handed Charlie the phone, letting him hold it and listen. It was simple enough, he thought. Hopefully it was enough to put him at ease.
 
The one positive that came out of the convincing confession was that James finally slowed down. Finally, the two were no longer at risk of a near miss gone wrong and starting a major traffic disaster. Damien sighed in relief as he noticed the speedometer regulate. However, by this new excuse, he faced a new issue: the sitter was now a loose end. In either case, be it the lie he told James or the reality, she was going to be a problem. And as far as the ex-clansman was concerned, 'tying up loose ends' almost always ends the same way. There was no way the sitter would live if James goes in there and cleans things up. And even if he does, and Vicky dies by his hand, that doesn't clear Angie of the danger, not at all, at least in his mind. On the contrary, if Angie gets wise and asks too many questions about the changes in her life, she'll only catch on to the fact something is very wrong around her. It already happened with Joseph back in Encino with everybody acting distant, and it's currently going through Charlie's mind as well after seeing his sister get shot and having his mother out of reach. And after seeing that first hand? The last thing Damien needed was his sister sitting in that same boat.

"I understand the implications if I get arrested. I know I probably won't last if that happens. Al-Asheera have insiders that eliminate captured members and make it look like a suicide. I also know that my family will become targets, and they'll be dead before me. You have any idea how much that frightens me?" he gulped. Lie or not, he was worried about arrest. He always was. And he knew for a fact that there were pictures of him with Al-Asheera tattoos in his house, ones he didn't destroy simply for his sister's sake of not losing a year's worth of memories. "I'm especially worried because now? The whole world knows that the dragon on the right hand and the symbol on the left side of then neck absolutely SCREAMS Al-Asheera. And Angie has pictures of me before I got them removed. So yes, James, the sitter HAS evidence against me. I wouldn't be worried at all if she didn't."

Three choices were laid out in front of him. And it didn't take a genius to realize the first was in his best interest. It would eliminate the problem in either case, if done right. But how exactly would this go about? Shoot the sitter at the door? Kidnap her?

"First, before we go anywhere, the sitter told me she and Angie are going out for food. I have no idea where, but they definitely have to come home. But I'm not giving you my address - or last name to find me - if you don't run me through exactly what you're going to do when we arrive. I'm not a child, so you don't have to convince me that Vicky is going on a little 'vacation'. You're either going to hold her in a cell and threaten her not to spill my secret, or you're going to kill her. And neither are easy to do quietly with a little girl under the same roof. That doesn't mean I think you'll shoot her on sight. That would be far too messy, and too obvious. But if you want to help, you clearly have an idea, right? A tactical plan to do this quietly? I already know a friend from work I can send Angie to stay with for a day or two, so for me, it's a matter of a phone call. For you? I don't want this to get messy, and I need you to keep your word that Angie won't get dragged deeper than she already has to be. I assume you have some sort of... cover operation? Pose as an electrician or something and get the sitter alone?"

So far, it could work in everyone's favor. Vicky could be taken care of very easily, but only if they don't storm in looking like cops. There was still the nasty threat to do harm upon an innocent 11-year-old girl if something was fishy. At least there was a solution for everyone's issues. And no risk of Damien being considered any further of a risk.

--

The hospital soon became quite crowded, and under high security, with so many cops and SWAT members keeping watch as the captain and chief both arrived to the scene of where an immunity negotiation and a confession would take place. All for the high profile case of the mystery redhead, which would soon come to an end with her arrest. All the deal needed was a signature, then Karin could walk, then Thalia would tell her story, maybe for the last time, and on record. That would be Richard's job later on, but if there's anything Thalia deserved, it was proper good-bye with Karin before she gets discharged - potentially tomorrow - where she'd be kept in a secure lockup where nobody will find her, and she has no hope of escape. At least she'd get somewhat humane treatment for her cooperation until the moment of her trial. While that was still up in the air, she was about to bring down her fellow clansmen before she goes down for good, which could possibly work in her favor. Would she get some grace before possibly being executed?

As the chief and Karin entered Thalia's room, the handicapped detective had another matter he wished to tend to. One he discussed with Karin in the beginning. A quest for more information. He gave the captain a tap on the back, and whispered to him, "Captain, I've heard that Roland Simmons was transferred here, as well. I'd like to check if he's in any condition to be questioned, maybe ask a few questions to his doctors. Then I'll meet you back here for Griffin's statement."

With that, Thalia wouldn't get to see the detective she'd spoken to and opened up to, but she would get to see the next best thing. Right after the chief... her best friend walked through the door, no more than that scratch over her head, and not in handcuffs. This could mean one thing: Richie came through and got her immunity sorted out. Karin was going to walk? She'd get to go home after all of this? It brought joy to her heart and a smile across her face to imagine she'd get to be with James and her brother again. Much less could be said about the redhead herself, especially considering how she had no clue where her brother or mom were at this point, with no proof that either were safe and sound. At least seeing Karin and realizing her fortunate fate was a consolation. So much so that she sat herself up as best as possible, trying not to drop a tear of her eye from happiness.

Her attention wasn't directed so much on the chief, but just seeing him there obviously meant there was some paperwork in order. It had to be the immunity deal, otherwise, Karin would've been dragged in here with her wrists cuffed. This was different. Peaceful. Fortunately, Thalia's right hand was still uncuffed from the bed, only her ankles being chained, but it didn't matter. She didn't need more than her arms for a hug. Shaking her head in a brief moment of disbelief, she spoke, "Get over here, you little..." Once Karin was close enough, her right arm swung around her friend and held her tightly. Her left arm was stiff and didn't move much, but it really didn't have to to express the emotion reflecting out of her. "You thought you could be a little daredevil like me? Charging through the cops to rescue me? God, I think I've rubbed off on you too much, haven't I?" It was all a joke, clearly. Who were the cops in the surroundings to judge? She parted from the hug, this time to grip her arm with her healthy hand. "You had me worried sick when I heard you were arrested. I had no idea if you'd ever come out of it, and I knew... I couldn't live with myself knowing this happened because of me. If I ended up taking you away from Joe after all this time of protecting you two? I would've... I don't think I could've lived with that." She bowed her head slightly, eyes squinted, ashamed of how things turned out. One week ago, it was as simple as staying in Karin's old bedroom in Burbank. Now? They were in a hospital bed in what seemed like a last good-bye. Thalia could only wonder... how often would Karin visit her in prison? Would she ever get a normal life after all of this? Would she blame Thalia for the horrible turn of events? Would she check up on her family?

"But from what I understand...." her head turned in the direction of the chief this time. He looked professional and old enough to have some pull in all of this. No sign of Richie, though. "A certain Detective Hart.... did he negotiate her immunity as per my request? I promise you, I'll confess when I see it's in stone, but... if I could just talk to Karin for a few minutes before we begin?"

--

Charlie had never shot a bow and arrow in his life, but the general concept was... appealing. Sure, the idea of shooting projectiles did resemble that of shooting a gun in his mind, but it didn't trigger any sort of frantic reaction like it did in the laser tag arena. Archery looked like a very different ball game. Not something to do alone - the larger bow sizes made the act look a bit daunting in the eyes of a shorter Charlie - but that's what Faye was there for, to help him out. And sure enough, the horrible thoughts of his dream were less and less dominating. Instead of thinking about what he saw police officers do to his sister, he was thinking about hitting the next target in front of him. It may only be a temporary distraction, but it was a worthwhile one. Even better, he had a new story to tell his mother when he is reunited with her.

At least a reunion with a fellow family member was on the horizon, in one way or another. Charlie was called away from his little activity, giving Faye a nod and handing her the bow before trotting inside. Another strange face was there, one that made him take a step back in hesitation from. More strangers only enhanced how scary things felt, so he kept his distance. He was still somewhat close to Andrew, close enough to see whatever was there to show him. A picture of his sister. Clearly her, there was no faking that. Everything down to the tattoos he grew used to seeing on her. She didn't look too banged up, and the two places she'd been shot? They were bandaged over. His eyes stuck on the picture, and he remained speechless up until it was taken from his line of sight, and instead, was shown a voice recording. More than that, it was placed in his hands. All he had to do was press play.

And press play he did to hear a voice to the face he'd seen. This had to be her. Any doubts in his mind about Thalia were slowly fading. How likely was it that the police faked a picture of her AND a voice recording of her, and in French, more than anything else? Especially with particular details that not many people knew about Charlie like his love for spy movies? This couldn't be fake. He remained emotionless for the duration of the recording, from time to time, looking up to Andrew to reassure that he was focused. The recording came to an end with an 'I love you'...

"Thalia?" he whimpered, playing the recording from the start once more. He knew he'd get no response from a pre-recorded file, but he just wanted to hear her talk to him again. He missed her, even if he knew every bad thing about her past. He still loved her, and she loved him back, even if they've only been in each other's lives for two days. He looked back up as the recording ran a second time, this time, to Isaac. This was the person who brought the recording it seemed, the piece of evidence that erased most of his doubts.

"Thank you, Mister Isaac," he told him politely, returning the recording to the new face in the room. His approach was slow and uneasy, but he worked up the courage to pass the device back. It wasn't his to keep, after all. "If you see my sister again, can you please tell her that I love her, too?"

Still in shock, Charlie was unsure of what to think anymore. Thalia seemed safe, sure. She was getting help for her injuries. But where was his mother in all of this? Where was Jon? How were they not found anywhere in the house? He had no clue about a bunker, so it was still a mystery to him. Why would his caregivers just.... leave without him? He also took the opportunity to ask Isaac another question, seeing he'd been outside of his safehouse. "H-Have you seen my mommy anywhere, too? Or her friend, Jon? Mister Goodman says that he has people looking for them. Are you?"

Innocence resonated in his voice, just a boy looking for answers. He didn't want or deserve to be so far away from people he cares about. At least he had some peace of mind that his sister would be okay.
 
"Of course I have a plan. The only reason I've survived in this game for so long is because I plan things, Damien." He said. "You may doubt me, and that I understand - but keep in mind, there's three types of people in the world. There's people that go and buy a coffee every morning for a few dollars, there's the people who think smart and buy a jar of coffee to make their own, saving money over time, and then there's the people who buy the jars of coffee, but then sell cups of it to other people for the same price they spent getting the whole lot. I'm one of those people - And to be one of those people, you need nothing but plans. Plans of action, fail-safes, and the whole 'what happens to the fucker who makes waves for me?' scheme. I won't lie to you - your sitter is as good as dead already. She may as well throw herself in front of a car right now, if I'm honest, but obviously she's not going to do that." He said.

"Whoever she is, or whoever she thinks she is, clearly thinks she has the upper hand in this situation. So, there's evidence of you being in Al-Asheera which she more than likely has her hands on by now, right? Simply done. There's a few ways we can do this. Mailman's the easiest - Package for a Damien... Obviously I'd need your last name, or it wouldn't be believable. All of my plans involve stealing in one way or another - mailman obviously needs a mail truck, an outfit, a PDA, packages, a label-printer, all of that shit. Electrician, maybe, but she could easily see right through that. She's living in your house, for god's sake - if there was an issue, she'd know about it by now. Plus, when you look at me, do I honestly look like the kind of guy who would work as an electrician? Clean-shaved, muscular, trimmed up, wearing fancy watches and all of that? No. She'd see right through me." He said. "There's a trick to blending in, so, ideally, we want a cover job that involves a fair bit of exercise - walking, mainly, hence why a mailman is the best option. It's most believable for someone of my build." He said. "But, like I said, you're going to have to take a leap of faith and tell me your last name, otherwise the whole thing won't work." He said.

"If you ask me, the mailman idea is the only one that'll work effectively, almost foolproof. We can get what we need for it while they're out... Having lunch or shopping or whatever it may be." He said. "Which means you can't show your face too much, because if she gets wind you're in LA, the whole thing gets blown. For this to work, though, we also need something that'll give me the chance to get her somewhere in the house that's more secluded than anywhere else. If you have a pantry, then it's simple, I deliver pantry food and carry it through - she steps inside, and bang, the plan throws into action without worry. Or something big enough that needs to be kept in, say... A room at the back of the house, where it's not blocking any hallways. Once again, she walks into the far back room, she gets what's coming to her, and Angie is none the wiser. Before she knows it, you get back, and the sitter's just that minute 'left the building', if you will." He said.

"So, for that to work, I need to know what your house looks like - where Angie's room is in relation to the rooms where all of this can possibly be executed, whether or not there's any likely witnesses, things like that. Does Angie take naps during the day? Is it likely she's listening to music using headphones, watching videos on an iPad with earbuds of any sort? All these little details will count greatly - if she's clueless to what's going on around her, then that makes our job all that much easier, you follow me?" He asked. "But yes, we're in the big leagues now - Your sitter is a loose end that needs to be severed, preferably. As long as she walks around with the knowledge of your history, none of this can move forward - We deal with her, you burn the evidence, and we all go home happy. Just make sure the person you call for your sister is reliable this time, yes? If not... Well, we'll see what happens. Kids are easy to lie to, easy to fool with makebelieve. Worst case scenario, you've got a house back there that'll have three other kids in it, come tonight. One of which is the same age as Angie, more or less - Seeing other kids around hepls kids settle much easier, and it'll make them a lot less suspicious, too. That's the worst case option, though." He said.

"Do you have a basement? A boiler in it?" He asked. "Because if we can play something off with that, then I get her alone where no one will find a body before I have a chance to get it cleaned up. In that situation she'd need to show me the way down, turn on lights for me, show me the boiler... In fact, that would work well. A boiler guy. I'll put on a Russian accent, and there we have it. A clean plan where no one hears, or sees, a thing." He said. "What's it going to be, Damien? It's your house. You know what would work best."

--

Karin was overjoyed to see her - before Thalia could even speak, she'd ran right over to her and thrown her arms around her, holding her close for a good while. "There's a face I thought I'd never see again." She laughed and let out a sniffle. "I'm sorry, I probably smell terrible." She said. "Being locked in a cell for a night tends to do that to you, y'know?" She pulled away and smiled at her. "Maybe you have rubbed off on me, but..." She shrugged, "If I hadn't done that, would I have had the chance to see you again? Probably not." She said, "But now here we are. Under somewhat bad circumstances, I know, but at least we've been given the chance to talk. That's the main thing right now." She said.

"Don't worry about blaming yourself for anything that happened. None of it was on you, especially what happened to me. It was stupid of me to run out and try and get you back, I wasn't thinking straight. Sure, I got a bit of a smackdown myself, but..." She traced a finger over the cut on her head she'd received from her own arresting officers. "Hey, shit happens, doesn't it?" She asked. "I have... No idea where Joseph is, or... Anyone, for that matter. The last time I saw them was before I ran to try and get you, so, I have no idea where they might be. Kinda' depressing, but, as long as Joseph's with everyone else, I'm sure he's safe. I didn't hear any talk of them finding anyone at the mansion, or anywhere nearby, so... I'm gonna' guess they went... Somewhere. I'm not sure." She ran a hand through her hair. God, she needed a shower.

The chief stepped forward, "Indeed, that's what I'm here to negotiate. Well. I wouldn't say negotiate - finalize is the better word." He said, pulling out a document from a briefcase he had handy. "I thought you'd want to see me sign this for yourself, just as evidence that it isn't forged or a fake. You have my word, as soon as I put my name on this piece of paper..." He set it down on the nightstand next to the flowers that Isaac had left behind. "Karin is free to walk out the doors and get no more trouble from us. The paper right there even says so - it's her release forms. No strings attached, no criminal record changes - this all goes away, and she goes back into society." He said, "But, of course, I'll leave you to talk for just a minute." He smiled and walked out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Karin leaned in close to Thalia.

"Roland Simmons is alive." She whispered. "I told Richie to kill him. OD him on morphine. If the guys here are distracted enough by us, he might have a window to do it in. If he doesn't do it, I'll find a way to do it before I leave. It won't be too hard, and if I get hold of James, any evidence of it happening goes away, too." She said. "He's staying on the same floor as you, and we can't just let that slide. He'll just cause you more trouble - I think his brain's fried, though." She said. "Whatever the case may be, I'll make sure it's taken care of before I walk out of here today." She said. "I'm... Really sorry I couldn't help you get away. Charlie, too. I don't know where he is, but, I didn't see him in any of the cop cars - hopefully he's somewhere safer than in the hands of those bastards." She whispered.

--

Isaac looked down at him after he was done listening, and smiled at his mannerisms, too. "You're more than welcome, buddy." He said, and took the phone back from him and put it in his pocket. He looked at him when he was asked the next question, though, and then he looked at Andrew for a moment as well. Well, he wasn't quite expecting that, but, it was best to be honest. "While I was there with your sister, I didn't see anything of your mom or Jon, no. Sorry, kiddo." He sighed. "I am helping Andrew look for them, though, and there's no one better for finding missing people than the FBI. Ask Andrew to go through some FBI stuff with you later on. We find thousands of missing people every year, so, chances are? Your mom and Jon are gonna' be some of those people." He reached out and gently ruffled his hair. "I won't be seeing your sister again, but, I'm sure someone else will. I'll be sure they know to tell her that you love her, too, okay?" He winked.

Andrew stepped in, "Plus, I'm sure there's one of them out there looking for you as we speak, Charlie. It's just a matter of being patient. Something will come up." He offered him a smile, too.

Oh, Andrew, you couldn't be more right. Jon was literally coming into the forest at that very moment.

"I should probably get going, Andrew."

"No, please. Stay for a coffee. We'll discuss some of the case." He smiled, then lowered himself to Charlie's level. He was sure the news of there still being no word of his mother or Jon was disheartening in some way, so, he put an arm around his shoulders and rested his hand on his furthest one. "I know you're worried for your mom and Jon, but, don't worry. We'll find them eventually. It's important to remember that LA's a big city, so it might take a while. We have people all over the country that'll know to look for them, so, if they see anything, I'll be one of the first people to find out, alright? Whatever happens, no matter how long things take, you can be sure you're safe with me, alright?" He said. "I'm not planning on kicking you out, or anything." He joked, then laughed a tiny bit. "You can stay with me and Faye, no matter how long it takes to find your family." He nodded. "Anyway..." He nodded to the back yard. "I don't want to keep you from your archery lesson. You can go ahead and get back to that." He said, patting his shoulder before he rose back up to his feet.
 
Of course, there was a plan in mind. Mailman, it seemed the most convincing of any sort of service showing up out of the blue at his doorstep. Not only that, but Damien could easily sell it due to an order that he'd placed not long ago. A place where the encounter could take place? Even better. Of course, all without him showing his face. James should be able to take on a young woman with ease. It seemed like the puzzle, though with jagged pieces, would fit in a way that both of the men would benefit, all without revealing that Damien had been offered to sell James out. The question was: when Vicky is out of the picture, will some other Al-Asheera goon come after his family? He hoped that the trail ended there. At least long enough for the gang to crumble.

"If we're going with a delivery, I have just the proposal," he began after hearing James out. "A week ago, I ordered a bed that's been delayed so many times to actually arrive. I've arranged for my father, in his coma, to be moved to our place - specifically my bedroom. With that, I'll be moving my belonging to the basement. If my father is going to remain comatose, we might as well have a full-time nurse here to care for him rather than constantly make runs to the hospital. But that was just me and Angie's preference." He shrugged quickly. "My father will take my bed, and I will move my belongings downstairs. The basement a floor beneath the main floor of what seems to be a 1-story house. There isn't anything down there besides a treadmill and a few unpacked boxes that we didn't have space for after the move from Philly. Sometimes me and Angie have used it to keep cool in the summers and watch movies on my laptop, but nowadays, not as much. I have no idea if the sitter goes down there. I've never seen her do it, but there's nothing incriminating down there, fortunately. It could work for that isolated place for her to be 'taken care of'."

He cleared his throat as he gazed out the window, relieved at the fact they were now traveling at a safer speed. "Angie doesn't interact with anyone watching over her but me nowadays. She tends to miss me so much that she detaches herself from reality. She just sits on her tablet all day watching videos on the internet. So when it comes to her being distracted, you can probably count on that. She's 11, and damn, I keep saying getting her a tablet for her birthday was a huge mistake. Now it might just save our asses." The only issue Damien saw in this was that Angie would not see it coming if harm comes her way. She could be snatched and have no time to scream or run. "I just question your ability to enter the house, kill Vicky in the basement, then try to sell it to Angie that she just... walked out of the house without saying a word. She'll notice that her babysitter never left the house, you know. And that a strange delivery man showed up. Difficult questions... ones I'm not quite sure yet how to evade."

There still remained a few facts. Damien's full name, and the general layout of his house. "Romanos. Damien Romanos. That's my full name, for starters..." If he didn't spray it now, no doubt James would find it soon enough. His face was revealed, after all. "Second, my house. Pretty simple and more than enough for me and my sister on our own. Entering the front door, you have the foyer. Not much to see there, and definitely not a place to strike. To your right is the kitchen, complete with a dining table, a kitchen island, and a pantry. To the right is the family room and television. It's all relatively close to the front door, if that's what you're going for. Continuing inward from the kitchen, you'll see the laundry room, and, eventually, the stairs to the basement. Continuing from the family room, shortly after that, there's the bathroom, then the two bedrooms: mine and Angie's, hers being the farthest from the front door. She shouldn't be able to hear anything from the basement, as she doesn't even realize whenever I use the treadmill. That's the general mapping of the place. Angie shouldn't hear if anything is going down in the basement. All we need to do is set up. Get a car that looks convincing enough, and make the entry. If anything, I'll stand up at the car with my back turned and my hair tied back, enough so nobody will recognize me. That is, if it's necessary."

Without further ado, Damien did the honors of reaching for James' GPS monitor and entering his current address. Nothing untruthful about that address. He was simply worried about what the sitter might do if she gets tipped off. "Any other questions? Because your plan seems to fit well with the circumstances. All we have to do is give it a few hours for the ladies to return home."

--

As Karin gave excuses about appearance and smell, Thalia only shook her head, still grinning at the fact her friend was alive and well. "Hey, I think I still win in the looking like hell competition. Smelling like it?" She sniffed briefly, then giggled. "Nah, I think you have me beat there." It was all good humor for the nearby law enforcement to observe. "Hey, I guess you trying to be like me and braving a storm came at an advantage. I don't even know what I'd do if I couldn't get a last little talk with you. Even if you say it's not my fault.... god, I can't help but feel it partially is. I mean, if I'd never met you later that day, we'd probably still be a one-off encounter. Not even counting what happened last night. You'd probably safe and sound at home if I never answered that text you sent me."

Thalia didn't even care that the chief was probably listening to her conversation. At this point, Karin's deal was pretty much in stone. What use did they have to go after a guppy, anyway? Karin was still in the dark about their friends. Thalia was as well, with the exception of Charlie, which did make her a bit sad on the inside, but they'd express their concerns later. The room would clear shortly. But not before Thalia saw the paperwork for herself, right before her own eyes. She'd have to ask about Charlie later. And that FBI agent that showed up earlier that she'd butted heads with. It did cheer her up to know that the LAPD - and most importantly, Tony's partner - weren't intentionally trying to screw her over. "I appreciate the consideration, sir," she addressed the chief. "I'm a woman of my word. I just wanna speak to Karin real quick, then I'll speak about everything I know. No details left out. You may find it hard to believe... but I'm done playing by Al-Asheera's rules. Whatever happens, I can't let them keeping destroying everything in their path."

The room was theirs now. And the first bit of news Karin had? Roland Simmons was alive. Her jaw instantly dropped, eyes shot out, looking back and forth at the door to ensure nobody could hear. Whispers was the name of the game, here. "W-What?" she shook her head. "No way, Kar. I saw Ra's shoot Roland in the head. I saw him die. Me, James, and Tony, we all saw him die. I have no idea what became of his body, but people don't just... survive a bullet to the brain like that. You say his brain's fried? Huh. I wouldn't expect anything less. But geez. Al-Asheera members must have nine lives. I'm just thankful Ra's ran out of his. But Roland? That... doesn't add up. Damn it, how...." She gulped, then winced. "I hope that son of a bitch dies, be it by someone's hand or otherwise. The fucker had a family, and yet that wasn't enough for him. That detective, Richie? He said his house was searched. He kept sick pictures of me and Vanessa to jerk off to on his off time at home, when his wife wasn't giving him enough. For everything he put me and her through... I'm glad you agree that he doesn't deserve this second chance he was given."

That clear the urgent business. Next? Thalia had many wishes to pass down to Karin before they may never see each other again. She gave Karin a pat on the bed, signalling her to take a seat. There was rather sad tidings to bear. "Karin... I have no idea what kinda jail time I'm facing, and where I'll serve it. And honestly? I didn't bother fight for it. I could've added myself to the immunity deal for you, but like hell the police would let that fly. They want to hang me out to dry, the notorious mystery redhead. They probably will push for the death penalty, too. I nailed a spot on that most wanted list, too. No way they'd give someone like me a free pass, no matter what they hear about my past. But..." she sighed, reaching for Karin's hand to grip again. "I might as well pay for fucking up eight years ago, hm? But if I'm just gonna vanish, I need to get word out to the rest of us. I have no clue where Charlie is. Some fed marched in here not long ago, telling me he and some other fed had Charlie in a safehouse. They refused to show me proof, but I think.... maybe James could find out and get him back? The poor guy. He hid under the bed and just... watched me get shot. Twice. And the SWAT team didn't give a damn about him. They wanted to haul him off while he was kicking and screaming. And he doesn't know where our mom is. He must be horrified...."

"Next," she huffed. "James. He's probably pissed that I didn't make it to the safehouse in time. Pissed I dragged you into this. I compromised everything because I tried to act wise, as usual. Tell him I'm sorry for any kind of inconvenience I was. I really tried to work with him, but things just tend to get out of hand, as you can see. I don't like the outcome, but it is what it is. I know it's hard for him to forgive, especially because of how I lied to him in the beginning, blew the first chance. Then I brought Jenny in, blew the second one. This might've just been the final straw, huh? I just ask that he protects my mom and Charlie. They have nothing to do with what I did. Just get them somewhere to stay. Maybe with Jon, too. He seems like a strong man of the house. And Charlie loves him, too. Man, he even wanted to offer me my first job working with him in his garage. It could've been my new start, if I didn't get arrested."

"Oh, speak of the devil..." A rather unpleasant memory of Jenny and Karin's altercation in the hallway return to her mind. "Jenny. I know you hated her. A lot. To be honest, I don't think I want much to do with her again. But she, like others, became a target because of me. You don't even have to interact with her much, or become besties with her or any of that mushy shit. Just tell her that I'm sorry, please? Make sure she's doing alright. She was staying at some 3 star hotel. I forgot the name... It's until her apartment's not a crime scene. She's an abusive lover, but she didn't deserve to have to worry about Al-Asheera. I just... make sure she's okay, please?"

Neither of them knew about her being executed just yet. Would that affect Thalia as badly as her disappearance affected Jenny?

"Ahh, but it's not all... bad stuff I wanna pass down," she let a light grin escape her lips as she adjusted her seating slowly, keeping her left arm as still as possible. "I got a visit from the leader of the Clover Boys. Boy, am I popular..." she chuckled. "He wanted info about Al-Asheera. The two gangs are meeting tonight to negotiate some sort of agreement. I don't wanna get too involved, but... Bradan was grateful, and asked me if there's anything he could do in return. I scratched his back by telling him about Al-Asheera's new leader.... and he's going to scratch mine by backing off a few nasty details of the past. That means not coming after you for swiping his watch, which was impressive as fuck, by the way..." she nudged Karin's shoulder playfully. "He won't bother my family... but the best part? Frank and Jordan... he's not going to come after them." Her grin turned into a full fledged smile, her heart extending to the little boy who wouldn't talk much. "He's lifting the bounty off Jordan's head, Karin. He can move on, live his life normally, so can Frank. They can have that countryside dream life they've been dreaming of..." She sniffled slightly to suppress her own tears. "In addition... tell Frank that I'm sorry. I really treated him like shit, played with his emotions, pulled away from everything I promised because I was scared of committing to an orphaned boy. I was afraid of parenthood, and it stopped me from loving Frank, and it shouldn't have. It really shouldn't have. I still have feelings for him, and I hope he knows that."

Was she going to bring up the other painful fact that Richie brought up the previous night? She felt like she had to get it out, her smile fading as her hand guided Karin's over to her stomach. The robe was thin, but not thing enough to feel the scar from when she was stabbed. "Now more than ever do I hate declining the extra hand to help Jordan. When... the doctors were operating on me, they noticed the scar from when Ra's stabbed me. They did tests and... well, they noticed I was pregnant at one point in my life, at 17... and... um..." She shook her head, still in disbelief at the grim news. "That was probably the only child I'm ever going to have." She tried her best not to cry now. She'd already let out her sorrows last night. "Life is unfair. I pushed away a single attempt at acting motherly, and now I'm never going to get one, ever again. Not when I'm locked up. Ra's... he ruined my life beyond repair. And it hurts to know that a jury isn't even going to take that into consideration."

Or at least so she thought.

"Anyway... um..." she had one more message to pass along. "My mom... she's probably never been this disappointed in me in her life. I just... wanna tell her I'm sorry that I pulled her out of her comfortable life in Philly. Her husband, my dad, is dead because of me. Charlie is god knows where because of me. How does she have the room in her heart to forgive me for all of this... " Her gaze drifted off to the window to her left to distract her strong feelings of sorrow. "God damn it, Karin, tell her I'm sorry for me, and that I love her so much. It's what I want her to remember me by. That I wanted to change. I wanted to do so much, but it all got ruined because we thought we were untouchable. And look what happened. We got arrested, we got beaten and shot. I may never see Charlie again, and my mom probably has it out for me because of it. I just hope she accepts the apology."

Her right eye, in full view of Karin, began to water as she winced again, trying to calm herself. The grip on Karin's hand got tighter as she spoke. "God, I am a mess. Why could I be like those normal middle school girls back in the day, huh?" She smirked lazily. "Fuck it, right? This is the end of the line for me, I guess."

--

Charlie bowed his head in disappointment after hearing that there was no new news about his mom or Jon, and that this Isaac person wasn't going back after Thalia again. He wanted that message to get passed on, that he saw and heard her, and that he loves her. Maybe another agent would do it for him? It boosted his spirits just a bit to hear about people being found by the FBI. "Maybe I can hear them tonight? If you don't find my mommy and Jon by then, I guess. I mean, we found my sister after eight years. I didn't ever think I'd get to meet her, and I thought she'd be mean at first. But she really isn't. She's really sweet and kind. She's done... bad things, but she's nice thought. I hope the police see that, too."

Not like an eight year old boy's testimony was worth much in court, but he did want to express his opinion. He took a few steps away to give the two their alone time, though. "I'm going to go back and practice with Faye. She told me my aim was getting better, and I really wanna keep trying. Archery's a lot of fun." He looked back to Isaac one last time, then to Andrew. "Thank you, again. Thalia told me that police officers didn't want to help her... but it seems like you two are different. I'm glad that you are."

And that concluded whatever Charlie needed to saw as he turned back to the yard to return to that young woman teaching him to use the bow. It was quite exciting for him, a new activity. Even if he was a bit shy, Charlie did enjoy the idea of learning something new like archery. His walking soon turned into running as he got closer to Faye, looking back one more time in the federal agents' direction, waving, then continuing his run.

It was only a matter of time until he was on his way home.
 
"Our first stop is the mailing office. We need a mail van, an outfit, and of course, a big fucking box that looks like it could a whole, or part of a bed. Obviously, the way this will unfold is we'll get one of those label creators from their office, or print off one of the Amazon delivery things, and we'll have the delivery instructions of 'store in basement' - That gives me an in, a reason to go into the house and have her help me carry it all the way down. Simple enough - the best part of all of it is this: I slip a gun into the box, silenced. It looks like I'm carrying the box and only the box, but really? I've got my hand in a nice little cut out hole, my finger on the trigger. As soon as we're in the basement, she gets four in the chest and drops like a sack of shit. And that's our problem solved." He shrugged. It all seemed clean in practice, especially if they could get the resources they needed to pull it off. Sure, that involved robbing a mailing office and stealing a vehicle, but... No problem. They could switch out the license plates with the car they were in now, and no one would be any the wiser when it came to searching for a stolen van.

"Don't worry about convincing your sister. If she's distracted upstairs, think, you can show up, be in the house, and say that you've spoken to her while she was upstairs. She left, and there you are to pick her up. Your sitter had to go home for a family emergency, or something. Say her father fell ill - As dark as it sounds, that's something Angie can relate to, right?" He asked. "If she relates to it, feels sympathy, then chances are she won't question where she went. She'll just accept it - that's exactly what we want, okay? You're going to have to forget her past experiences and traumas, put them aside. You need to use those to our advantage now." He said.

"As for your father's care, my promise stands. If you help me, he gets the good treatment, and in-house nurse, medical bills covered - and your sister gets to go to a top child psychiatrist. I'll throw that in your bundle for you, too. It sounds like she needs it. No offense, of course." He said.

"Well, Mister Romanos..." He leaned back and relaxed a tad. "You've got a package on the way. No refunds."

--

"Let's not think about the bad things that have happened, Thalia." She squeezed her hand. "Eight years is a long time. From your age, let's think about things - You got into it when you were thirteen, and until you turned 16, it's very unlikely you'd be tried as an adult, right? Anything that happened in those three years you can almost consider irrelevant. All the child psychology will come into it, and then there's the business with repressed memories, the child abuse theories - The thing is, all of that's a mixed bag. And sometimes there's no saying what truly happened. Tragic, but the way it is. In this case, though, that works in your favor. Remember, if they can't prove you did something, they can't pin it on you. If they find the slightest bit of evidence, sure, they can give you some sort of charge, but that's also a wishy-washy scenario, okay? Then there's the terrorism thing - that got you on the most wanted list. That's going to be disproven. I was with you that day, so chances are, they're going to call me forward as a witness - CCTV will also prove you had nothing to do with it, not unless you could be in two places at once, right?" She chuckled. "So, take terrorism off the list. That's ten, fifteen years off the sentence straight away, as well as the hotspot you had on the Most Wanted." She said.

"Richard might come forward and say it wasn't you that shot him - or at least that's what he believes. Something like that. That might reduce the sentence even further. That'd be attempted murder reduced to... Assault with a deadly weapon, or something. Still pretty serious, but, attempted murder of a cop? That's like... 20 years right there. If he takes that off? Another 10 or 15 years gone." She shrugged. "I know it sounds pretty dire, but, I don't think you'll spend the rest of your life in prison - especially if the judges take everything into account. We'll find a good attorney to represent you in court, someone who'll hopefully throw off the other fucker trying to land you in jail, and things might just work out okay. Remember, you're giving up everything about Al-Asheera. The FBI cut deals to people who do shit like that. You're uprooting one of the biggest gangs in US history - They'll cut you something more than fair. So, death row? All that shit? Take your mind off of it. It won't happen."

But then came the sadder part of their talk. The confessions - the needs for apologies.

"I'll make sure James finds Charlie, don't worry." She smiled. "Your brother's a good kid. A real sweetheart, too. He'll be okay. He'll have me, Joseph, James... If you're not there, even if you're only gone for a year, I'll make sure I'm there for him in some sort of sisterly way, alright?" She rubbed the top of her hand.

But there was good news. Frank and Jordan were clear? Good lord.

"Oh my god." She grinned. "You've... Done a good thing. Thank you for bailing me out, and... Frank and Jordan. I can't even imagine what they'll say. Frank, I..." She sighed. Of course Thalia still had feelings for him. Still had regrets. She regretted giving away the chance she had with Jordan. Karin couldn't blame her. "It's a big thing that you would have had to do, Thalia." She squeezed her hand again. "In the moment, you were scared. You felt incapable. Other people may have felt otherwise, but, Jordan was a kid who wasn't opening up to anyone. Last I saw, though, he was doing quite well. You saw him, too. He at least responds in some sort of way to people, even if it's only a nod. And he went out with James the other day, and your brother, and Joe, all without Frank there. He's getting better, so, don't feel too bad about things, okay? With what you've done, you're only going to have helped him." She said.

"I'll tell Frank what you said, but remember..." She sighed, "You don't have to be a parent, a sister, an aunt - you don't even have to be any sort of distant family to be involved. So, if some day you do find yourself in contact with Frank again... Offering a hand won't go unappreciated, will it?" She said. "I know it won't be the same as being a mother, but, if you want to make a difference in his life, there's nothing holding you back from doing that. If you give that kid even one more role model in his life, it'll be something he hangs onto. Forever. That's the most selfless act anyone can ever take, believe me." She said.

"I'm sure your mom misses you so much, and I'm sure she's not angry in the slightest." She said, "Don't think like that. Things are never as they seem." She said. Powerful words - after today, Karin was surely going to remember that one. Things are never as they seem. It was true - just take a look at her immunity deal she thought was never going to happen. "And most of all, don't underestimate the jury. Remember, they're human, too. If they know your story, know all of it, and everything you've lost? Unless the judge says otherwise, they have to take that all into account." She explained. "Don't worry."

She pulled her into a hug and put her head on her shoulder, "Wherever you end up, send me a postcard, okay?" She joked, and she laughed, but then the tears started to flow. She didn't cry audibly, but the tears dripped onto Thalia's shoulder, and Karin sniffled a fair amount. It was hard to believe this was the last time they'd see each other in a while.

--

Charlie left, and Andrew and Isaac settled for coffee. Andrew occasionally looked into the back yard to make sure that all was okay, and it seemed Charlie was still enjoying himself. He was improving, which was nice. They had a talk about the case - Andrew voiced his opinions of Jon, and the whole situation that Charlie had been caught up in. He was insistent that things weren't right, that things had gone down differently than they first thought. It was all gibberish to Isaac, though - like he'd said to Thalia, he wasn't here for her, for her family - her brother was the only exception, and the only reason he was helping him was because he owed Andrew a favor.

"You know what the more than likely thing is, Andrew?" Isaac finished his coffee and moved the cup aside. "The most likely thing is, Jon Parker, the hardened 'fixer' we've been trying to get a lead on the past, what... Two decades? It's most likely he doesn't give a rat's ass about the boy out back. He's flown off to Dubai to fall in with the population, and by now? His identity's changed, and he's going to keep doing what he's good at - the only thing he's good at. Killing. Smashing things. Breaking things apart. Staging accidents and making lots of money. Simple as that."

"Oh? And what about the boy's mother? She just went with him?" Andrew chuckled in disbelief and shook his head.

"No - If my theory's right, she's floating down the LA river right now. But we'll leave it to time to decide that one, won't we?" He asked. He made for the door.

"I think you're wrong." Andrew stood up and pointed at him. "I think Jon is more than just a criminal. Charlie even said he's like a second dad to him - Kids don't say that sort of thing about cold-hearted killers, Isaac."

"Maybe. But like I say, Andrew - Fake it til' you make it. How do we know Jon didn't do exactly that?" He asked, then winked and made the hand motion of a gun firing with his index finger, right at him. "Be seeing you, my friend. If I ever find the Jon fella', I'll be sure to let him know you've got a boner for him."

"Fuck you." He waved a hand. "Be careful what you wish for, Isaac."

"Phah."

Isaac went out the kitchen and to the front door. He pushed it open, shutting it behind him with a chuckle. He went out onto the driveway and...

Was that other car there when he got here?

Nope.

He felt a sharp pain in the back of his knee, and he fell to the floor with a muffled scream as a hand slapped over his mouth. He had a small knife to his throat.

"Who's in there?" A man's voice demanded.

"Fuck your mother." Isaac spoke through the stranger's hand. He then had his arm in a lock behind his back, pushing it almost to breaking point.

"Don't fuck with me. Who's in there?"

Isaac whined in pain, but thought for a moment, "You're not Al-Asheera. I'd be dead by now if you were."

"Don't speak too soon." He released his arm and put the knife back to his throat. "Hold out on me one more time and I sever arteries in three different places."

There was some silence, but Isaac spoke.

"One man. A teenage girl. A young boy."

"Charlie Griffin?"

"Mmhm." He coughed.

"Who's the girl?"

"Man's daughter."

"Goodman?"

"Yes..."

"No more security?"

"No, for fuck's sake. What is this, twenty questions?"

"No, that's all." He put the knife away. "Sleep tight." He said, and before Isaac could respond, he had a stungun to his neck. He was out cold after nothing more than a couple of seconds, and he collapsed to the floor. Within another minute, his hands were zip-tied behind his back, and he was stuffed in the back of his own car.

One man had arrived.

Jon Parker.

He made for the front door - now came the lock picking skills.
 
"I... hope you're right." Thalia tried to smile at the thought of most of her years being scratched off by her circumstances. She was 13, underaged. Would her crimes back then truly be neglected? She robbed and hurt people willfully at the time, probably under the brainwashing of Al-Asheera, but it still held that she wasn't acting under duress. The terrorism charges would go away upon further investigation, too. Richie's statement about the truth of his injury would also improve her image. So, what was left? Association with a terrorist wannabe organization? Larceny? How many years would that leave her? She'd get jail time, but a life sentence? That association with terrorism charge wasn't going to just fade, especially given the bomb threats, but mercy for her when it came to her story? Was that even possible? If so... she might only serve a few years, maybe under better living conditions. She'd be able to get out to see Charlie graduate high school, to make up for lost time. Could it be the godsend she was looking for?

At least death row wasn't as prevalent a possibility any longer.

Karin gave her word to keep a watchful eye on Charlie, for James to get him back. Would there be no bad blood between the two? Even if she made his life a whole lot harder by getting herself arrested? He did pull many strings to get her family out of harm's way. Odds are, he could pull a few more to ensure that the boy gets out of whatever hole he's in now. It pained Thalia to sit idly by while her brother was somewhere she didn't know about with a stranger. At least the people she knew and trusted were going to take the reigns and find him beyond just a name.

Then and there, Thalia realized the goodness in her actions, how she thought about Frank and his best interest with the child he was nursing. Getting the man chasing them down off his back, all because she cooperated with the Clover Boys. They were still an untrustworthy bunch at best, and potentially her most treacherous nightmare at worse. Would Bradan stab her in the back later? Go after Jordan and Frank anyway? Why would he after she helped him get one step closer to eliminating their most powerful competitor. Karin's joy for it made Thalia happy, and it brought the idea of, one day, if she ever got a chance to be free again, she'd make it all up to Frank. Try to make good on her promises.

And who knows... maybe her mother didn't hate her. Maybe there was room in her heart to forgive after all of this.

Thalia gripped her friend back in a hug, not wanting to let go, but eventually parting to face her again. "Well... I hope you like prison pictures in your post cards," she couldn't help but giggle a bit at the remark. "I do hope they throw me away somewhere close. Maybe you could... come visit? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but... still. I'm gonna miss the hell out of you. But if there's anything I could say? Despite everything that's happened?" She let out a smile to her friend. "Thank you. For turning my life around in such an instant. I got out of my dark place and now I'm going to do something good for the world. All because of you. You don't forget that. You may not be a cop like Tony or Frank. You may not be... an ex-CIA agent with contacts and money galore James. And you may not be a thief trained by one of the most malicious criminals out there. But you've got a particular strength inside you, one that started this mess, all for the better. Don't you forget that. Don't forget that you're more than a caregiver/waitress who gave up her dream after disaster. Because I've seen what you really are. You're a hero like the rest of us, just a different specialty. James is lucky to have you, really."

It was a cue enough for the police to return. Thalia was ready, especially now that she'd made her peace with Karin. Unbelievable... how long would it be until they see each other again?

--

Yet somewhere in those halls was another problem. One that could be solved very soon. Richie returned to the room in which Roland Simmons was being held, prepared to make his move to permanently end the pedophile's life. Just hearing what Karin had to say about Roland was just the tip of the iceberg. There were several other ugly details that would be revealed in time. He'd already read about the belongings in his stash, beyond Thalia and Vanessa, several other pictures of underaged girls for his own satisfaction. All under the same roof as his wife and son. A sick man who dodged death, when he deserved to face it from the start. All this detective had to do was... end his life. Simple enough? It should be.

He entered the room. Dead quiet with the exception of the machines and the measure of his heartrate. Roland was immobile and his face bandaged, over his eye and the bullet that'd entered his head. How the hell did he survive that? No man should physically survive that. But it seemed like he'd lost nearly all of his motor control. He didn't move a muscle, and had a mask over his nose and mouth to assist his breathing. His arms and legs were in casts as well, obviously not from the shooting. He did have a sheet of paper laid out in front of him, one that seemed to read a list of words. A code of sorts? A means of communications? Roland only gave a signal of recognition with his single eye. He was unsure about the rest of his body, though. Could he communicate? Maybe this code was it. In large text, the top read:

"My wife helped me compile this list of replies. There are 25 different responses, all of which will be determined by the tap of my fingers. The code on this page determines each reply."

Taking the paper and reading the heading, Richie nodded, then looked to the immobile Roland. "Mister Simmons...." He placed the page down on the bed at Roland's damaged legs, reaching for his pocket for his wallet. Roland might want confirmation that this is a cop, after all. He unfolded the wallet and let his ID be in full view of the man. "Detective Richard Hart, LAPD. I have a few questions for you."

Roland's eye turned to view Richie, his ring finger, though moving slightly, tapped the bed five consecutive times. Richie arched an eyebrow in confusion. So he has the ability to move his fingers, but nothing else. Clearly unable to talk as well. That's what the code was for. How Roland was able to communicate with his wife was unknown, but it was done. Maybe he was able to muster out a few words. But this must've been a way to answer. Already? He glanced at the page again. Five taps on the ring finger. They were slight but noticeable. And his eyes shot out when he saw what, who he could only guess was his wife, wrote in for him.

"FUCK YOURSELF."

Richie sighed. The same game that Thalia played in the beginning. Al-Asheera's code for not talking. He maintained composure and stood his ground, propped up by his cane. "Well, my friend..." he huffed. "You and I are gonna have a mighty fun time together, until that story of yours changes."

Five taps of the ring finger again came from Roland.

Indeed, this would be a while.
 
"I appreciate your words. We're all heroes in some way - even you. It just takes some time to realize it for some of us." She said. "I've been told many times over that I'm a hero for what I did for Joseph, when he was just little. For a long time I didn't believe it. I didn't believe I was in any way heroic - the way I saw things when I was younger was that I had to do what I did, that I was forced into it rather than taking it by choice, but, after some time I saw that it wasn't that way at all. I could have gave in, waited for some foster parents to find myself and Joseph, put Joseph into a system that would give him an unsteady upbringing. I could have done that and vanished off to college, wished him well, and prayed that things turned out okay. But I didn't do that." She looked around for a moment, then looked to the floor, a faint smile on her face.

"I gave up everything I had to look after him, to be there for him. So yeah, I guess I'm a hero in some ways. We all are. We're just different types of heroes, I think, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. Heroes are heroes, even in their rawest form. Here I am in a situation I never thought I'd be in, too, and I've changed so much in the past, what, week and a bit?" She asked. "It's scary to look at the way things have become, but, when all of this is over... I'm just looking forward to life going back to normal. Of course things are going to be a little different sooner than we're ready for..." She ran a hand over the surface of her stomach.

"Of course I'll come and visit you. And once you get that comfy little deal, y'know, where you can go in a room for visitors and not have to speak through glass? I'll bring the little one along. You can meet them properly." She smiled.

--

Andrew's House

The front door unlocked and Jon was inside, but Andrew had heard the door open again, and he already had a gun drawn and was progressing through the house, gun aimed down the hallway and his body pressed against the wall. Jon had heard movement, and funnily enough he was doing the exact same thing. Gun at the ready, pressed against the wall, moving through the house ever so slowly. Things went dead quiet for a minute, right up until the point that they both heard tiny footsteps around the corner from them. Jon went around the corner, instantly, the gun now inches from Andrew's head. Sadly, though, he was in a similar spot. Andrew's gun was only inches away from his, too.

"Andrew."

"Jon..."

"There must be a word for this." Jon whispered.

"An impasse, Jon. An impasse." He said, "So, let's progress in any way we can - We can both die, right here, right now... Or we can talk."

"Talking works."

"I know why you're here, Jon."

"Yes, and you'd do right to let him come back with me."

"I'm here trying to guarantee his safety."

"And it's only a matter of time before someone finds out, or words gets out when your buddy out there lets slip that there's something going on at your house."

"Isaac?"

"Yeah, he's taking a little nap right now. He's okay."

Andrew scowled. "How long have we known each other, Jon? How old were we?"

"Charlie's age, just about."

Andrew slowly shook his head, "To think I used to admire you so much."

"And vice versa. We were truly unorthodox."

"But I went to college, and you started killing people."

"Don't play that fucking card, Andrew. You let our choices define who we were. Things could have been much different for you and I - We wouldn't have been playing this fucking stupid cat-and-mouse shit for the past twenty years." He said. "How's Faye?"

"She's well." He nodded once. "So, how does this work? First chance you get, you put a bullet in me, my daughter, then take Charlie away?"

"Of course not. Neither of you have done anything to deserve death. Plus, why would I do such a thing to an old childhood friend?"

"Hmph."

"What's going to happen, is you're going to show me where Charlie's room is."

"Okay. He's outside, though."

"That's fine. I want to see his room."

"Then put the gun down."

"Together."

Andrew nodded and slowly began to lower his gun, and Jon did the same thing. It continued until the both of them had guns tucked away, and with a bitter look resting on his face, Andrew lead Jon upstairs and to the room Charlie had been staying in. Jon looked around the warm little bedroom, and a sad smile fell onto his face. The room smelt like Charlie's clothes, too, the detergent that had been used to wash them before he came here. Even though there was very little personalization done by him, it was still easy to picture it as Charlie's room. Andrew watched Jon's emotions closely, rubbing his chin and having an inner debate with himself.

On the wall by the desk, not far from the bed, there were two bits of paper stuck up. They were instructions of some sort that Andrew had written for Charlie, all in colorful ink. Jon leaned in closer to have a look.

The first page read:

'IF YOU FEEL PANICKED:

- Take ten deep breaths and try to calm down.
- Think of someone/something that makes you feel comfortable.
- Find Andrew/Faye and tell them what's wrong.
- Have a drink of water.
- Splash water on face + go to the bathroom if you need to.'

The other page said:

'IF THERE IS ANY DANGER:

- Stay calm, take deep breaths.
- Find Faye and stay with her.
- Go with Faye to a good hiding place.
- Remind Faye to call 911.
- Do not come out unless Andrew comes back, or if another agent/police officer arrives to help.'

It was nice to know that he'd been cared for. Even though these pages had been put up literally this morning, Andrew had showed Charlie, and told him to follow the instructions in either event. Jon partially smiled - it was bittersweet. It was nice that he had these to follow if something happened, but, the worst part was knowing it was now necessary for these instructions to be present in his life.

"Thank you for caring for him, Andrew." Jon whispered.

"I knew I was right about you. The friend you left unconscious is adamant you're stone-cold."

"Hardly." He looked at him. "Your care for him won't go unrewarded."

"I don't expect anything in return." Andrew waved a hand, "He told me something, though... Something that I hope will inspire you to make better choices in life. He told me you're like a second father to him. He seemed a lot more comfortable when he was talking about you."

Jon looked away and lifted a hand to his mouth, wiping his hand over it. He swallowed the immediate lump in his throat. "Really?" He choked out.

"Really, Jon."

"You need to take your daughter and go somewhere safe, Andrew. Please." He said. "You're in danger, and Charlie is, too. It's why I'm here. Please don't send me away empty-handed."

"You're not going to fight for it?"

"Of course not." He rubbed at his eyes. "And ultimately I can't do anything if a Fed says I can't take him."

"Well... No one knows where he is other than Isaac..." He paused, "So, if he went 'missing', no one would know but me and Faye."

Jon nodded and looked him in the eye, "Thank you." He said.

"Don't mention it. He's a good kid, you know. You look after him."

"I will. I'll invite you to the family barbecue once this shit's over with."

Andrew laughed, "Right."

"Could you send him up? Don't tell him I'm here, though."

"Sure." Andrew chuckled a tiny bit and left the room again, this time heading downstairs and out into the back yard. He approached Charlie and Faye and stood just behind them as Charlie was drawing up for his next shot. As Faye had been doing it for so long, her teachings were good, and she was helping him quickly become more precise - she'd even explained the aerodynamics behind arrows and why they seem to move all wavy-like when you fire them. Things were going well, they were peaceful.

As the next shot landed on target, Andrew clapped and smile.

"Good shot, pal. Good shot." He said. At that moment, he stepped forward and slowly took the bow from Charlie's hands. "We need to take a little break, bud. There's, um..." He looked back to the house. "There's a surprise for you. In your bedroom." He said. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad - I think you're really going to like this one." He smiled. "Why don't you run along quickly and see? Grab a glass of water on your way in. It's a hot day and you've been out here a while." He patted him on the head. He looked at Faye, too. She hadn't seen anything happen, but her father looked... Content, almost. She knew in her own little way that something big was happening.

And of course, if Charlie did eventually make his way upstairs, he was going to find Jon sat on his bed. Maybe he'd even have to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing things for real - after all, they'd all spent the past couple of days wondering if he was ever going to see Jon or his mom again.
 
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