To be or not to be, Joe? Of course, it's already predetermined since it's technically a flashback...

Also, for anyone who noticed, I changed the addiction from "truth and secrets" to "truth telling and revenge." That came from character reflection of Joe and what he grows into.

I don't own the Hardy Boys, mainly because I do this *points to chapter* to the characters. And since it's a series made for young boys...

Enjoy!

Truth accepted the bag of Chinese takeout before counting out the exact change needed for payment. He walked out slowly to the car, recalling the corpse that he had left behind. Without a doubt, someone would find the corpse within the next few days. He had moved it himself into a deserted area of the park under some bridge, knowing that the smell would attract attention if it wasn't found sooner. It would earn him another death registered in the Network files of a possible kill by Truthful Rook. He was distinct, on a different scale than those of regular murderers.

He was an Assassin board member and very proud of it.

He popped open the car door, and slipped in with no problems. Placing the food on the passenger seat, he couldn't help but silently muse over the idea of the invasion. He had silently pinned at the idea of one for years, but knew better than to open his mouth. He always needed training. Everyone always needed training. He had known it since the day he saw the killings with his own eyes. So he had waited patiently, attempting to keep his feelings bottled up until the time was right.

The street lights would briefly highlight his face before disappearing behind him. The blue eyes were dulled after years of suffering with the truth of the whole matter of his life, yet they managed to dance under the artificial light as thoughts ran through his head. They ran back to a single, central concentration: Fenton Hardy.

Truth felt like growling at the idea of the PI. He hated to admit that he owed that man anything, but the truth of the matter was that without Fenton, Truth wouldn't be there. In both existence and path of life, the older man had played a part, even if it was in a negative and opposite direction than his intentions.

Truth pulled the car into the parking spot and got out relatively the same way he got in. Giggles had always commented that his sense of balancing, no matter what the situation, was amazing. In response, he had told her that it was either force his body top accept such a feat, for fall off and be killed from the mere height from the recoil of the gun.

He hadn't expected to find Riddle sitting on the bed in the room he and his brother shared, but didn't bother to show the surprise on his face. Of all of the Assassin board members, she was the one who would not worry about getting accidentally killed by a friend. In fact, Truth was sure that she wouldn't have minded too much about being killed.

Of course, there was a difference between not caring and suicidal.

"Did you hear about Forgotten's message?"

"Not if it was a recent one."

"He wants your masks to come off."

Truth swore loudly. "Why would he-"

"Seven years, Truth. What's to be feared?" She slowly got up from her position on the bed. "The man who is unconscious of the world around him, or his ghost?"

"The idea," he admitted. "The idea that he's still there, and could wake up at any moment and ruin more lives."

She chuckled, and disappeared from the room before he was able to ask why.

His mind felt out of his body when the conversation with his brother came up a bit later.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"Forgotten sent a message. 'Masks come off.' Ring any bells?"

"No." The smirk on Lies's face suddenly popped up, and Truth knew that the gesture was one of the closest he'll ever get to the man to tell the truth without the preface of defying his nature. This was endearing, yet beyond infuriating.

"Damn it Lies!" He slammed the box of noodles he was eating from onto the table, ignoring the slimy feel as one managed to sneak part way out of the box. "Why?"

"Hiding in masks doesn't change the plan."

The real thing of the matter unfolded in Truth's blue eyes, dulled from the pains and sufferings of that moment years ago. This was more than just a mission. This was symbolic to them both. "It's revenge, isn't it? Them seeing all the people who were supposed to be on their side strikes the kind of fear you love to deal in. And they already know that some of us are involved, just not the extent. Why not make it funnier for us? Besides, we've been eluding them for years, so why not add a challenge?"

"I wasn't thinking that."

"Right." The lie was not lost on him. If anything, this plan was probably replaying in Lies's head as much as it had in Truth's. There was something that the two shared.

"Do you think he's there?" Truth's voice surprised him, after allowing them a few moments of thought and time to eat.

Of course, Lies knew who he was referring to. They always knew. "He's not important. Why would they bother?"

The blue eyed man could feel himself frown. "I was afraid of that. You think he'll change after he wakes up from the coma?"

He wasn't expecting the truth. It wasn't that important for him to force his older brother to change his speech patterns and defy his nature. In fact, Truth was hoping for his brother to lie. He took comfort in this, knowing that it wasn't too severe to things to shift dramatically. And sometimes, that was all he could ask for.

7 Years Ago

Joe let his mind wander as he absentmindedly flicked his lighter on and off. It captivated his eyes as the warm colors flickered in and out of existence, but his thoughts were elsewhere. They had brought him to the mental sight of cold metallic glowing within the moonlight, dancing in his hands…

Killing. This idea had plagued him in the beginning, but had mellowed out as time passed. The question now was how much he should worry about his acceptance.

Of course, he had some level of worrying covered by his mind. The blond had realized that he had gone way beyond his own dreams of his future. Yes, there was likely to be a life or two that he would take while protecting innocents as a field agent or PI or whatever person in law enforcement that he would become. But already, in a few months time, he had taken more than he ever thought he would.

Why?

Joe let the flame disappear once again. He thought about the word that had given him the hope of change.

Redemption.

But as he thought, the more he began to question. After all, how many of the past criminals had he caught that felt no guilt at all? Those lives that they took were only a means to their ends. They didn't care about lives.

This, of course, was in stark contrast to what Fenton Hardy had repeatedly told them: life was a precious gift. While Joe did not disagree with this point, he couldn't help but wonder if everyone deserved it. What about those who ruined others? They had done much worse than kill sometimes. Everlasting scars (both physically and mentally) were not something one wants to carry around the rest of their lives.

He pulled out his cell and with a series of pressed buttons, got to the text messaging screen. Without a single hesitating thought, he punched out, "I'll see you one day." It would be enough for them to understand.

It was only when he pressed "send" that he truly realized what he had agreed to. But he was able to live with it. He had time. Limited, but he had some. And if the lack of outraged emotions or conscience told him anything, it was that he didn't need much of it to understand what he had agreed to.

It had grown on him. The idea of revenge. Vengeance that would spare all but him. But he didn't matter. After all, what was the difference if he continued the job at this point? In the end, it amounted to the same thing to him. Stopping those bad guys and staying with his brother. A few differences in the rules…

Joe couldn't help but wonder what Frank would think once he got the text.

He lost himself to his thoughts before he heard the doorbell rang. A frown cam across his features and his blue eyes darkened. Who could it be? No one had visited them since they moved. In fact, they were so deep in the woods that he wasn't sure if anyone knew that a family was living there. They were dead to friends and enemies alike. So that limited the people to…

"They would have warned us," he reasoned to himself in a whisper. "They probably weren't even caught. It's just a friend of Dad's, I bet."

"Joe." Jackie slowly opened the door, only allowing her head to peak through. "You might want to come down to meet the future enemy."

"Who is…?"

"There's some resemblance to the Gray Man that your dad has a picture of. Probably descendants."

"More that one?"

"An unhappy Claudius and a dead Ophelia. Never to beat King and Knight, but will never realize it."

"We should still greet them. Let them have their illusion." He got up from his spot against the wall underneath the window. With a swift movement, he dropped the lighter into his pocket and made sure the blade attached to his ankle was hidden.

"You chose," Jackie noted.

"It was coming sooner or later. I just made the choice in the end." Joe flashed a smile. "Let's go meet the false king."

The two quickly walked down the steps, and caught the ending of the words directed to Frank at the time. "…nasty business. I'm glad the treatment is helping."

"So am I." A lie that Joe instantly recognized. It wasn't much of a feat, considering that most of the words that came out of his brother's mouth were made for lies, but it gave him a sense that he still knew who Frank was. He lost the old one, but his brother was still there.

"Joe, Jackie," Fenton said as they came into view. "Meet Eugene and Cassandra Gray. Eugene, Cassandra, this is Joe, and this is Jackie."

"Charmed," Jackie said, her eyes glancing at the figures as if looking for hidden details that she could use against them. Joe did the same after gracing each with a nod. If anything, Eugene looked to be a younger version of the man in the picture. There were some differences that the blond assumed to be from the mother, but more or less the man was a carbon copy of Arthur Gray. Cassandra was less so, and instead of taking a confident stance like her brother, she appeared a bit meek. If he could, Joe would have probably laughed after he noticed the gun strapped to her waist. It was a grand contrast, and it was one he thought the two Assassins enjoyed every time they saw her.

"It's something with the Assassins, isn't it?" Joe asked straight out. He didn't feel like dancing around with half truths with these two. Something just felt… off.

Eugene tried to pierce him with a glare, but Joe just stood there for a moment. Realizing that one of them had to break the silence, he sighed. "That was why we were allowed a bit of leeway with the corrupt guys in ATAC. And we assume that Dad would get notice if the second group was captured. It's logic."

His father gave him a look. Not that Joe could blame him. After all, Frank was the logical one.

"Well… yes," Eugene said, flustered. "My fiancée can explain things better. She's more technical."

"She's the one coming up the walk?" Frank asked, using the question to make it sound like he can speak the truth. It was another part of his deception to the world, but Joe found it entertaining if anything.

"Yes. Bethany has the raw data."

Joe cocked his head to the side. Somehow, he got the feeling that the time that he thought he had just got limited even more by that single name.

The woman that walked in had what appeared to be artificial blonde hair and red lips that shone out against her paler complexion. She scanned each of the teens, as if making her own notes. But even the blue eyes didn't deceive Joe. He felt an instant click of something off with the woman. Something… sinister, if he had to label it.

"Wow, you look… older than you probably are," she said with a nervous laugh. "How old are you?"

"Frank's sixteen," Joe supplied, helping the brunette from avoid giving any kind of answer. "Jackie's turning sixteen soon. And I guess I'm the baby."

Fifteen. He had only turned fifteen years old, and his life was becoming one of a killer.

So many Hamlet references... so little time...