The room is dark. Dark, the only strip of light coming from an area peeking out underneath the dark maroon curtains over the windows. The large room was inornate spare for a large metal desk with several neatly stacked files and papers, several file cabinets and shelves, and two men.

One was stocky and muscular, with graying brown hair in a business suit. The other one also wore a suit, but his was much less intimidating. His hair was also brown but instead of the wrinkles beginning to line the other man's face his face was smooth and also void of any stubble.

Jackson Rippner tilted back, relaxed, in his chair, hands behind his head. He was the vision of all things cocky, the only signal to his inner sadistic twist was his ice-cold, blue eyes.

"It took a lot of money to get you out of that jail shit," the other man said coldly. He leaned forward slightly to look at Jackson.

"Oh," Jackson responded nonchalantly, his lips releasing a tiny yawn. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"I still can't believe you let some girl half your size beat you almost dead, and now here you are acting like it's no big deal," the other man said in disgust.

Jackson's face fell as he let his chair tumble to the floor with a deafening thud. "I told you, she was better prepared than I thought."

"Well, you had better make sure that next time you don't let a pretty face get in the way of the job," he responded coolly. "You're lucky we didn't fire you."

Jackson sighed in exasperation. "She's not some 'pretty face'. She told me some sob story and I got a little, I'll admit, compassionate."

The man clicked his tongue and feigned sympathy. "Oh, Jack, did you fall in love with her?"

"No," Jackson replied angrily. "And I've asked you not to call me that, Chris."

Christopher leaned even farther forward, his face lined with tension. "Right now, though, you're really not in the position to be making the decisions,are you?"

Jackson shot him a look of pure venom but remained silent. A few moments later he spoke, though his voice level was slightly lower.

"Listen, are you going to tell me why I'm here or just make fun of me the whole time? Because if it's the latter then I'm leaving."

Christopher slid a thick manila folder over to Jackson. "We're redoing the Keefe job."

Jackson thumbed through the folder and looked up at his employer. "When? How?"

"They need it done by next week."

Jackson stared at him in disbelief. "That's not enough-"

"Time, I know. Which is why we need to use your little friend instead of target someone else."

"My little-"

"The Reisert girl."

Jackson paused, frowning. "Why does she have to be involved?"

"Because, Jack, you've already dealt with the stalking part. We don't have enough time for you to study someone new," he said this as if Jackson were a moron.

"I guess," Jackson said hesitantly.

"Plus, I mean...I'm sure you want revenge," Christopher said maliciously.

Jackson paused again. "I don't know that I want revenge."

"That's a new one," Christopher said, laughing harshly. "Last time I checked you were chasing her through her house with a knife."

Jackson stood up, his chair tumbling down behind him. "I was angry, okay? I let my temper get the best of me." Christopher eyed Jackson mockingly.

"I'd like to meet this girl who has Jack Rippner not wanting revenge. Bring her here to do the job. Plus, it'll make things easier if she's at headquarters. Less chance for her to get away and call the police."

Jackson sighed. "Fine. But back to the job. Are we using the Russian crew again, and the missile idea?"

"Yeah."

Jackson turned to leave but paused with his hand on the doorknob. He turned back around.

"Bye, Dad."