Prologue Part V:

Acting DCI Gene Hunt early in the morning, getting ready – showering, shaving - on the sounds of his favourite glam rock songs in his Apple I-Pod to go to work. He doesn't think he can stomach breakfast just yet. Although, credit where credit's due. Gene has to admit that Cartwright gave that fat old retired DCI a proper verbal slap. Gene ties the knot of his tie, for once not having a bad tie day and looking extra handsome. Quit whining, Hunt. You're a man, a legend. The brave Manc Lion.

The fact that his uncle utterly lost control. That he would have planned to hurt an active police officer. Tyler's desk and computer suite is tidy, as usual. Like he's been here this entire time, keeping it clean.

"... right you lot. You all know what 'appened, and I'm stepping back from my post for a while. Things need to be sorted, and it had better be sorted by someone who isn't related to the scum that is currently being held in Custody."

He allows several news reporters to ask questions, because questions require answers, and he wants to find DCI Sam Tyler the justice he deserves as Gene always thought of him as a little brother.

After dropping a written declaration on the Super's desk, Gene has signed out the station faster than he's ever did. He doesn't permit himself to think about what he's going to do next, because if he did, he might start talking himself out of it. So Gene drives wearing his seatbelt, drives fast, with care, until suddenly, he's parked in front of the hospital, staring at the grey Sixties made building.

Gene steps out of his Ford executive car and closes the door with a click striding to the entrance and making his way to the reception. This needs to be done. "I'll... 'ave to talk to my superior," the woman says at last. Gene can hear the insecurity in her voice, much as she tries to hide it.

"I'm looking for a DCI Sam Tyler." said Gene Hunt who is on compassionate leave. Now it's Gene who's frowning. "Since when do you do ID controls at a NHS 'ospital? I'm a colleague."

"Special security clearance orders. We can't let just anyone in without checking them against the visitor records on this PC. Your lad's been traumatised badly by a long retired DCI; heard of him?" Wow they really protected the hospital grounds he thought "Big bloke tall as you, grey hair and a faded camel hair coat?"

"Listen, love, I'm 'is mate, an' I just taken compassionate leave because his case affected my mental health and seeing a bent retired copper, related to me in the flesh, after so many years pissed me off." He's spent a fair share of his time in this hospital – and while it's annoying, it's undeniably part of the job. Being a copper isn't easy.

The people waiting in the lounge tell Gene that the tall old man in the camel hair coat left through the front entrance, got into his car and drove off. The nurse calls the police station, to report the incident. 20 minutes later, an officer shows up, conducting a thorough search of the hospital. They don't find the former DCI just yet.

Or so it plays out in Gene's head, at the end of the day, as he waits by a back entrance, Benson & Hedges cigarette in mouth, having parked the Mk3 Granada just a bit off. This train of thought won't get him anywhere, he needs to stop it right this instant. Concentrate, Hunt, concentrate. Remember what you came here for.

Gene has to pause for a moment, to gather strength. "If I stay and we still haven't solved the case of your RTC, you can be transferred. You get to choose a new station."