March 18 7:00 pm

"Joe!"

Frank's loud whisper broke through the silence of the night. He shifted from his uncomfortable kneeling position to a more steady one, so that he could get up quickly and get into action when the time called for it. Seventeen year old Joe, his brother, looked up quizzically as he made a 'keep quiet' motion with his hand. "Now's not exactly the time to chat, Frank. Thought brainiac you would've figured that out long ago." Turning away, he focused back his attention to the area just fifteen meters away from him, the place where their subject was last seen around. With a trained eye, Joe looked carefully for any sign of movement among the darkness of the trees, whose shadows seemed to be hiding anything that might be of interest to him. The last remnants of evening light struggled to filter through the thick canopy of overhanging branches, a pathetic effort to light up the scene before him, of there was anything at all to be taken more of.

Unlike his brother, Frank was not as concentrated on what he was supposed to be concentrated on-the stakeout. His thoughts wandered further and further away as he now and then gazed at the shadow cast by his brother on the shelter near his tree, his chosen hideout. He whispered his name again, to check that he was still there, but there was no reply. Frank blinked again. The shadow didn't look so much as one cast by a figure anymore. It seemed to have morphed into something else less human like. Now it blended in with the rest of them, dark, ominous shadows, branching out of corners where you least expected them, taking hold of you by your fears. Frank felt a little fearful at that moment, under the rapidly decreasing light. He grabbed hold of the rough tree trunk to stabilize himself. He scolded himself.

"Snap out of it, Hardy."

Deep down inside, he knew that it was actually not a fear that he could just shake himself out of. It was no ordinary fear. It was not just like the fear of a child when he refused to go to bed alone because of the dark. Neither was it the same kind of fear that those with arachnophobia felt when they sighted those eight-legged terrors. The child could sleep with Mommy, and the dark, scary monsters would melt away into the night, leaving him in peace. Spiders could be killed, squashing all remaining fear caused by the beast. In fact, a black widow compared to this situation was nothing. Frank knew that he was worried about something deeper than the fading light. It concerned the safety of his brother.

He called out once again. Even though there was no reply, he could almost see Joe roll his eyes before him, saying half-seriously, "Frank, you should know by now that I can take care of myself." Worry squirmed up his mind, but he squashed it by comforting himself that Joe was probably just a few trees away from him, safe and unharmed.

The Hardy brothers shared a relationship that was much more special than most other siblings. Sure, they fought sometimes (occasionally ending up than more than just a few bruises), but there was hardly anything that could get in the way of the pair - or nothing that they couldn't do. Their bond was unbreakable. Joe often described themselves as 'the closest two platonic people could ever get'. Frank agreed quietly. There were also many people who had seen them work and accomplish, who called Frank as the 'brain' and Joe the 'braun'. This was not entirely true. Frank had to admit that there were times when Joe thought up of smart and workable ideas during cases, which had actually turned out successful. There were also times when Frank noticed that Joe seemed a little left out. He wouldn't have noticed it if not for his mother had told him about it. Sometimes people forgot that Joe was part of the team, and whether he was actually wanted. He had a humorous, wild and rash side that caused them to believe that he didn't take things seriously enough, like he was just clowning around. But his brother knew him Joe well enough to know that under that careless, happy-go-lucky persona was a very sensible and thoughtful teenager indeed, who did care very much about helping others. Frank Hardy wouldn't trade anything for their relationship.

But this was what would push it to the limit. Several nights back, he had been having nightmares that all revolved around Joe. Joe getting shot, Joe getting stabbed, Joe getting kidnapped, he dreamt it all. But the worst thing was that in all of them, Frank was always so close to his brother, but never able to save him. He was always split seconds away from pulling him to safety. Screams would escape his lips when he watched helplessly as the killer got Joe time and time again. It was all too real. Guilt would flood in, and anger, and desperation..

March 17 late at night

"Need help Joe?" Frank yelled as he gave a final punch to his burly opponent in the stomach. Wheezing and dazed, he collapsed head first before Frank's feet. He started to run across the pavement to his brother's aid.

"Oof! Um, fine here, 'guess! Ugh!" Joe muttered hastily, ducking as his assailant through several punches to his midriff. He was doing pretty well, his opponent was losing strength quickly and almost defeated. That was when the unthinkable happened.

In that minute moment of time - Frank was a mere meter away from Joe - Joe was giving his attacker his last few blows; fate chose this moment to step in and play the upper hand. Seconds ago nobody noticed the man dressed in a black coat and gloves who stepped up behind Joe, gun in hand. Seconds later only did everybody notice his presence - seconds too late. Out of shock, Frank stopped in his tracks, motionless as he stared at the man, unable to move, unable to speak. He only saw all too clear the man raise his hand in one swift upward motion - as if he had practiced doing this many times - and put the gun in line with the back of still oblivious Joe's mussed blond head. Two things happened at once.

*BANG*

"NOOO!"

Frank reacted split seconds too late and only managed to shout something at the same time the gun was fired in an attempt to warn his brother. The explosion was one of the loudest he'd heard. Of course, he had his share of being too near when bombs exploded, standing way too close when a plane zoomed overhead, or even being caught in severe thunderstorms where lightning struck ground that was too close for comfort. But this was different. Worse. His scream was a noise that he didn't even know he was capable of producing and coupled with the gunshot that sounded just next to him, he felt like the world beneath his feet had just blown up and he was tumbling down into a pit of nothingness.

His mind played tricks on him. He didn't even know what was happening, and at the same time realized that his brother's life had just been cruelly terminated. His vision blurred as he stumbled in what his senses told him was the right direction. The gunshot explosion ricocheted around in his head, echoing his terror. Then he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, anger and despair. Thoughts shot around in his mind, torturing him.

No no no no Joe it can't be it can't be no Joe come back where are you

Disbelief and denial, sniggered the voice in his head. He's gone, idiot. Gone forever. You saw.

Then wrath seized him. Frank could no longer control his emotions and rage poured out, flooding into every crevice of his body.

That son of a bitch where is he -

He struggled to take control of himself again, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. His shaking feet slipped below his weight and he collapsed on the floor. Glancing up he saw his brother crumpled face down on the ground, blood all over his white shirt. Parts of his hair that Frank could see were stained dark crimson. He lay in a puddle of red. Red guilt. Red regret. Hot red anger -

Frank sobbed uncontrollably on the ground, thinking of how he could have been there just a split second earlier. Such immense guilt weighed down upon him that he felt like he was being suffocated. Regret came upon him like a tidal wave, swallowing up everything in its path, but sympathy was nowhere to be seen.

Joe is too young to die - how can he? He can't just have his life snatched away from him like that - I should have been there to stop him - it should have been me -

Frank's rash, impulsive little brother was gone. And although Joe was the one with a single bullet in his head, it seemed like a thousand bullets were riddled in Frank's heart.

Frank jumped up with a start. Cold perspiration had dampened the bedsheets that were tangled around his body. His heart thumped wildly in his ribcage. He wiped his hand on his forehead, surprised to find it as cold as ice. As a reflex, he looked down on the floor, half expecting to find a bloody figure lying on the floor motionless and lifeless. The bare wooden floor stared back at him. Suddenly thinking of his nightmare, he immediately leapt out of bed and walked hurriedly to his brother's room. It was just a nightmare, but it was so oddly real that Frank decided that he needed just a quick check to be sure and calm his nerves.

Opening the door slowly and silently, he found a lump under the giant quilt on his bed that Joe had been using ever since he was five. A quiet snoring came from under the quilt. Frank chuckled softly, now that he felt more at peace. At this the lump shifted position slightly.

"G'night, bro," Frank smiled.

He left after that, sure to close the door quietly.

March 18 7:45 pm

Frank ran a hand through his sweaty hair as he thought about his brother. Maybe he was more protective of him that he would admit. He wondered fleetingly whether Joe thought the same about him as well. Pushing all thoughts away, he attempted to concentrate on the task before him. He mentally recited the facts in his head.

Malcolm Lemuel. Also known as The Cabezona. Lookalike last seen at 26 Shore Road talking discreetly to another shady-looking suspect. Believed to be the leader or drug lord of a major drug cartel. Criminal organization known to participants as 'Blackout'. Spends his time planning out attacks on rival syndicates, the military, the FBI and the police force.

Fenton Hardy, their father, was asked to assist on the case as he would seem less high-profile and more conservative. Instead, due to another ongoing case that he was working on in Europe, he assigned his two sons to take charge and investigate.

Their father used to be part of the New York Police Department, but retired to become a private investigator. Over the years, he had gained much respect. The Hardy name was quite a household name. Policemen nationwide recognized the name with reverence. It was just so that their father's sleuthing abilities had been passed down to his sons, for they had turned out to gain quite a reputation for themselves.

Fame had its downsides too, though. Smaller, local criminal organizations would probably have the Hardy detectives' names in their 'List of People to Avoid' files and such. Therefore it was necessary to utilize aliases and fake passports at all times, though it was dangerous as these were not officially cleared with the authorities. Anyway, both Frank and Joe had a secret pact to do their best in whatever their father asked of them. It was in their blood. They didn't want to let him down now.

A snapping branch shook Frank out of his reverie. Turning around, he thought he saw a figure slipping and weaving through the woods, donning black gloves and coat, clutching a gun. For a moment his heart seemed to forget to beat and he stared at the woods breathlessly. Nothing.

He shook is head, trying to clear it. Nightmares were really messing with his head, he thought. Just when he needed it most. Frank got up slightly unsteadily and looked around in the now uncomfortable silence. Light was fading fast. The small slivers of sunlight that made it through the thick layer of leaves above were getting thinner and thinner. A glance at his watch told him that it was nearly 8 pm. He decided to find Joe. They'd stakeout the same place again tomorrow.

As he stood up, deep in thought, an unearthly yell shook the air around him. It almost plunged him back into his nightmare. Terror flowed through his veins, and he found himself frozen to the spot. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. An unwelcome sense of déjà vu paired with dread poured into his mind. But why?

No Joe not again it can't be...

An ominous premonition revealed itself to Frank. He found the yell all too familiar. All too Joe.

Frank was paralyzed with fear.

One might say that it would be fine for it to happen in a nightmare, because you could always wake up.

But this was not just a nightmare.

Because how do you wake up from reality?