Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.

Not going to do much of an intro to this one, we are in the dog days of summer.

When originally conceptualizing this story, this album served as a greater inspiration than the final product represents. It is, probably, Iron Maiden's finest album, their second studio effort released in 1981, and the last to feature the vocal work of Paul Di'Anno, the aptly named Killers. Described as an 'All killers, no fillers' album, it really does kick ass from beginning to end, with so many great tracks it'd be impossible to do them all justice. The one I went with is one towards the tail end, a rather reflective tune all things considered, but it fits in well amongst songs about every manner of killer the band could think of. It really is a killer album, so give a listen and remember to Up the Irons!

Justice Without Compromise – Chapter 6: Purgatory

Thinking of an age, old dream
Places I have never seen
Fantasies lived times before
I split my brain, melt through the floor

Over clouds my mind will fly
Forever now, I can't think why
My body tries to leave my soul
Is it me? I just don't know

Memories rising from the past
The future shadows overcast
Something's clutching at my head
Through the darkness I'll be led

The sound of Yuri's phone ringing on her desk behind her took her eyes off the quickly filling corkboard, which now displayed another half dozen case files in addition to the killing of Ricca and The Last Call's bombing.

After running across the crime scene in Harlem the previous day, Watanabe had decided to broaden her search to include crimes that did not involve he Maggia families. To do so, she had made a call and accessed the complete list of recently opened homicide cases, noting several that stuck out to her immediately, three of which opened the prior day alone. After singling these cases out, she called Detective Moore, the lead investigator in the homicide she had stumbled across the day before, and asked her to check some information for her so her suspicions could be supported or disproven.

When the Wraith saw it was Moore calling her, the phone was promptly answered. "What'd you find out Detective?" asked Yuri, getting straight to the point.

"Your hunch was right," replied Moore, "I went down to the ballistics lab and had a tech there pull the slugs from the cases you asked about and he was 95% certain they were all forty-fours, just like my case."

Frowning, Watanabe circled that line in her notebook. "Alright, got it, thanks Moore," replied Yuri, switching her phone to her other hand before ripping the page out and pinning it to the corkboard, "Could he tell if they were all from the same weapon?"

"When I asked him, he said he couldn't give a concrete answer," returned the Detective. "But I pressed him, and he said he saw at least two different sets of groove marks. He couldn't give me an exact number, but he did say that all the guns were the same caliber, and were likely the same make and model. The only number I could get out of him was a quote 'gut feeling' unquote of three different guns."

Yuri quickly wrote that number own on the newly pinned paper, "And how confident is he in that number?"

"Forty percent was what he told me," Said the younger Detective. "Yuri, what the hell is going on? None of these were gang shootings like mine. These cases involve two commercial break-ins, one drug deal gone bad, one dead pimp, and the last one was a homeless man found dead in a van with child pornography. None of them have anything in common except the caliber of bullet that killed them. What are you not telling me?"

"Quite a bit," admitted Watanabe as she looked at the board and swallowed the lump in her throat. "But none of it's concrete. This was all just a hunch, I was expecting you to say that there were one or two others, not all five."

"Damn," cursed Moore, and Yuri couldn't help but find herself agreeing. "What is this then? Some kind of conspiracy? Vigilantes?"

"I don't have any idea," lied Yuri through gritted teeth. "I'll look into it, thanks for your help." With that, Watanabe unceremoniously ended the call, tossing the phone carelessly onto the desk before running her hands up her face and through her hair. "Holy shit," she muttered, looking back at the board and evaluating everything she now knew.

There was a group of killers tearing their way through any kind of criminal they could find in New York, and it seemed more than likely that they were rogue police officers. The crimes all took place in dead zones of the Electric Eye, places known by the NYPD, and the victims had files with the department. All of those killed had either managed to get off the hook at trial or had gone to prison and committed crimes after their release. Similarly, the killer in every case was a good shot, striking their victims either center mass or in the head, a mark of training and experience. One report had described the break in at a Fisk Records Office as having been done with 'Military style execution.'

And every one of these killers, however many there were, used a .44 Magnum Revolver.

Eyes darting to her own Magnum Revolver and then away just as quickly, Yuri took a deep breath and began jotting down a list of things she still didn't know. That proved to be a larger list, and the questions she put down only begged more questions. None of these additional cases turned up any clues as to the identity of the killers, no fingerprints, DNA, or witnesses were found. The lack of connection between these other cases only raised more questions as to the motive, being Maggia hitmen no longer fit, nor did hitmen at all really. It now appeared that the killers were acting as some sort of vigilantes, more like the Punisher than anything else.

The big question that hung at the top of the board remained unanswered, the sticky note simply reading, 'Cops?'

It was the one thing Yuri had a hard time resolving, and even with the revelation that there was much more happening than Maggia dons being killed, nothing she found had answered that question. Still, she had found a lot, enough to warrant an update to Jean. Picking up her cell, Watanabe dialed the commissioner, speaking as soon as the call was accepted, "We need to meet, I've found something you need to see. You'll probably want to bring your lead investigator in on this, it could be big."

Pulling the unmarked police car into the parking garage, Detective Early Smith took a breath to calm his nerves before grabbing his coffee and service weapon on his way out of the car. When he'd woken up that morning, he had expected to return to stakeout duty, but a message from Commissioner DeWolff had him hauling ass down to the city morgue, apparently there was something he needed to see before returning to Palancio's import business for his shift.

Stepping inside, Early pulled the note with the room number he had been told out of his pocket and followed the plaques on the wall to the elevator down to the basement. The detective walked through brightly lit, sterile white hallways until he reached the room on his note and tried the handle only to find it locked. When that failed, he knocked on the door, and only had to wait for a second until the door was opened. "Morning Detective," greeted the Commissioner, taking a second to glance about the hallway, "Come on in. The situation has changed."

"What is it Commissioner?" asked Smith, stepping under the unrelenting fluorescent lighting, only made worse by reflecting off the white tile floor. Squinting, Early looked at the wall where the body refrigeration racks were and noticed that several doors were open, the corpses inside pulled out into the room and their coverings drawn back. Standing amidst them was Captain Carter, with his greying hair somewhat disheveled and deep frown lines on his face. Early gave the man a greeting nod that went unacknowledged as he threw dark glances at the last figure in the room. In the corner was a woman with her back to Early, shoulder length dark hair, and wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. Most notable was the shoulder holster she wore. "Who is this?"

The woman turned around to reveal her Asian features and that the gun in her holster was not a typical NYPD carry gun, but looked more like a revolver. "Early, I want you to meet an old friend of mine," interjected DeWolff, the blond woman guiding Smith towards the Oriental woman, "This is Yuri. Yuri, this is Detective Smith."

Now named, Yuri extended her hand, "How do you do?" she asked tersely, and Smith could feel the woman's hardened brown eyes sizing him up.

Smith felt recognition click in his mind, "I'm well, Yuri… Watanabe, is it?" he asked. The woman stiffened and retracted her hand, eyes flashing over to Commissioner DeWolff, who frowned.

"Just so you understand, Early, Yuri was never here, am I clear?" asked the blonde woman in a tone that brokered no argument. In the corner of his eye, Smith saw Captain Carter cross his arms and glare angrily at Watanabe. "That goes for you too Carter, what you see and hear does not leave this room."

The young detective nodded, "Crystal Commissioner," He assured before looking back to Watanabe, "I won't tell a soul." DeWolff then turned to Captain Carter, who grumbled before eventually nodding acquiescence.

Yuri's gaze flashed to Carter before swinging back to meet Smith's and he held it for a second. The woman looked over to the Commissioner and gave a slight nod, a motion that nearly prompted Early to let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Feeling like he'd passed some test he had come in woefully unprepared for, the young detective turned back to the Captain, who was still wearing his discomfort at Watanabe's face, and then the Commissioner for some sort of explanation. The blonde took a breath and said, "I asked Yuri to take a look at this case Early, to get another perspective. She's still one of the best investigators I knew, and this case has a lot riding on it."

Early looked back at Watanabe, having heard as much about her from some of the old hands at the Chinatown precinct, all of which seemed to hold the woman in high regard, no matter what she had done. Standing at a rather average 5 foot 9 inches and maybe 130 pounds, Yuri didn't quite have the stature to match her reputation, but Smith could see her eyes were that of a hardened woman, eyes that suggested the stories he had heard about her were true. Considering that, he could hardly hold it against his boss, no, his boss's boss, had brought Watanabe in to take a look at the case, in case there was something the rookie detective had missed. "I understand ma'am."

"Good man," complimented DeWolff before turning back to the ex-cop, "Now Yuri, what's going on? What did you want to show us?"

"That this thing might be big, Jean," replied Watanabe as she turned to the arrayed bodies.

The commissioner of the NYPD raised an eyebrow, "Maggia gang war big?" she asked hesitantly.

"Bigger," answered Watanabe with a straight face, silencing the room as Early chewed on that declaration before letting out a low whistle. Purposeful strides carried Yuri over to the nearest body, "Maggia don who did gambling and loan sharking." Two steps later, she was at the next, "Medium time arms dealer, sold guns to anyone," next in line were two corpses side by side, teenagers, like the ones Early saw growing up, "Small time gang, petty theft, flash robbery, and an innocent." That one drew a grimace from Smith, remembering a girl in high school who was killed in the crossfire of a gang shooting. "These two worked for Wilson Fisk, no criminal record," announced Watanabe as she arrived at the last of the bodies before picking a clipboard up from off a nearby table and turning to face the pair of police officers. "See the connection?"

Early stared blankly at the ex-Captain before turning to look at DeWolff to see she wore the same lost expression. Yuri's lips pressed into a thin line as she rapped her knuckles on the clipboard, "All were killed in the last week, and all by gunshot wounds from a .44 Magnum, hollow point rounds. No casings were recovered, so it was likely a revolver in each case," rattled off Yuri as she passed the clipboard to Jean.

"I'm sorry, are you implying that all these are connected because of the caliber of gun used to shoot them?" asked Early.

Yuri rounded back to face Smith, her eyes narrow, "How many cases have you had involving a .44 Magnum, detective?"

"Uh… none," muttered Smith, tugging at the collar of his shirt, "I've only been a detective a couple months though."

Yuri rolled her eyes and turned to the Commissioner. "Jean?"

"There was that one back when we both started," recalled the blonde woman. "Back in '04, the truck driver who killed the prostitute, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember it was in '05," replied Watanabe with the faintest hint of a smirk on her face before it quickly faded. "But not one since?" asked Yuri seriously, and Jean shook her head, "Yeah, me neither." Carter remained silent, but as soon as he started to open his mouth, Yuri rounded on him, "I know you haven't seen any Carter." The Captain closed his mouth, though he was still glaring daggers at Watanabe as the Asian woman spoke, "Point is, Magnum handguns are rare, and not many people actually carry them."

"You carry a Magnum," pointed out Smith, remembering the rumors and nodding to the gun in the Asian woman's holster.

"I do," replied Yuri coolly before drawing the blued revolver and holding it up for Early to see, "A three-fifty-seven, not a forty-four. You do know the difference, right?" Smith looked at the gun, but to him it was just a gun, so he shook his head. Watanabe let out a deep sigh and turned back to Jean. "Californians," she deadpanned, and the commissioner nodded.

"I don't get it, what's the big deal?" inquired Smith as he crossed her arms.

"The .357 was made to be a manstopper, you use it on human sized targets," replied Yuri as she opened the cylinder and pulled out one of the bullets and passed it to the young detective. Watanabe then reached into her pocket and pulled out a second bullet and flicked it to Early. "That's a .44 Magnum, it was made to hunt big game. You use it to kill a buck, or a bear."

Looking down at the two bullets, even Early could tell the difference between them, both in their size and their weight. He then looked at the bodies, and the wounds they had suffered, and could guess which of the two cartridges was responsible. "Okay, you made your point. Still, we need more to connect them."

"Read the case with the two kids," offered Yuri in a low voice.

Early looked to DeWolff, who flipped through the clipboard to find that case summary and scanned it before her eyes turned to saucers. "Commissioner? What is it?" asked Smith, but Jean merely passed him the clipboard to Early and he read it aloud. "In the male victim's vehicle when both were shot at close range by a large caliber handgun through an open driver's side window. Identification was out, but neither victim attempted to defend themselves… Damn."

There was a heavy silence as Smith, Carter, and DeWolff digested the revelation before Yuri broke it, "We're not dealing with a Maggia hitman. Whoever we're dealing with isn't trying to put the Maggia out of business, they want to put the courts out of business."

Early swallowed and looked between the two women, and it was DeWolff who spoke up, "So you think it's a vigilante then?" Watanabe nodded at that, and Smith felt some satisfaction that he had been right about Palancio not being behind the killings. "Any idea who?" inquired the Commissioner, but Yuri shook her head this time, "A motive? You'd know better than anyone else probably."

Detective Smith saw Watanabe's eyes narrow, a flash of anger going across them before the ex-Captain shrugged. "Couldn't say, lots of motivations for vigilantes. It could be like Castle, a war on crime. They certainly are racking up a Punisher level body count. Or maybe they're more like Spider-Man, they see all this," she said, gesturing to the bodies, "As their responsibility, somehow."

Early furrowed his brow, remembering what one of the other detectives had said about the local heroes, "What about the Marauder?"

"Him?" returned Watanabe, "No, probably not. He's a bit of a wildcard, he said a Pilot meant being the best, and doing good. That's what he really wanted; I don't think this is like that. None of this has been clean. There's a big difference…."

"The civilians caught in the crossfire," replied DeWolff, "Neither the Punisher nor Marauder ever did anything like that." Smith grimaced at that, eyes going back to the dead teenage girl still laying on the slab.

"A preposterous notion," dismissed Carter, stepping forward and back into the conversation. "All of those had a goal, a target. There is no pattern here Watanabe, you're barking up the wrong tree."

Watanabe rounded on the captain and stepped right up to him, looking him in the eye. "And you are Carter? Did pushing all those papers give you some special insight that you want to share?"

The two stared down for a tense second, but Carter relented, stepping back and averting his eyes. DeWolff cleared her throat, prompting Watanabe to face the Commissioner, "There could be another motivation Yuri…."

"There could be a lot of motivations. We won't know until we ask them," replied Watanabe shortly, throwing Jean a glare that managed to bring the NYPD Commissioner up short. "I'll keep working on this, and I'll let you know if I find anything, but you might want to work this angle too. Smith, what have you been doing?"

Early made to answer, but DeWolff beat him to it, "He's been running a stakeout on our old friend Palancio, we thought he might be the one behind this hitman. Should we pull them off?"

Yuri frowned before shaking her head, "No, they might just see the guys who are doing this."

"Guys?" asked Smith, his ear latching onto that detail, "As in plural."

"Yeah, probably three, but that's just a guess," replied Yuri without missing a beat. Early whipped his head over to look at Jean, but the commissioner seemed as nonplussed as Watanabe. But judging by the way Carter paled slightly, the young Detective wasn't the only one concerned about this revelation. As Early opened his mouth to say something about the now group of killer vigilantes roaming the streets, Yuri cut him off. "Have your guys keep up those stakeouts and maybe we'll know just how many of these guys there are. And watch for any other victims killed by a magnum. I'll keep working the case from my end and let you know if I find anything."

"Got it," replied the Commissioner, "And that hunch you were checking out?"

"Still checking," answered Yuri curtly, "And no, it's nothing you can help with. It would be better if you don't in fact." Once again, Early made to speak, but noticed DeWolff giving him a look in the corner of his eye and held his tongue. "Just stick to those stakeouts, and if you do see one of those Maggia dons get iced, make sure you count how many did it."

Taking his card back from the cabbie, Detective Sergeant Jack Connors climbed out of the taxi in front of the courthouse and onto the sidewalk before the car pulled back into the flow of traffic. He had gotten a call from Carter, apparently, he was able to convince a judge to sign a warrant to search Lou Guzman's apartment, though on what grounds, Connors hadn't a clue. The long-time detective knew to just play along and do his job, avoiding the politics where he could.

However, even Connors knew that this case didn't just stink, it reeked. It wasn't the first time the Detective Sergeant had been a part of such a case, and he would simply hold his nose and push through it as he had in the past. Foot hitting the first step, Connors didn't realize his nose was scrunched as he made his way up to the doors of the building, only for his boss, Captain Stanley Carter, to come out of them. "Captain," called the Detective Sergeant, "Is that my warrant?"

The bespectacled man turned to face him and pulled an envelope out of his soft case, "Yes it is Connors. Lou Guzman, a search of his apartment." Connors took the envelope and removed the signed document nestled inside, scanning over it as Carter droned on. "The Mayor wants to bring a stop to the violence so I expect the warrants to start coming quickly. We're going to do this by the book now. I'm going to find some guys to help you with this…."

But the Detective Sergeant shook his head, "There won't be much need for that sir, Guzman's been pretty plain since we've had eyes on him. I expect this won't be much trouble." With that assessment, Connors folded the warrant back up, "I'll serve it straight away, just let me call the investigation people and get back to my guys at the stakeout, then I'll go deliver this personally."

Carter adjusted his stance, frowning as he narrowed his eyes in interest, "You sure you don't want any more backup for this?" asked the Captain. The Detective Sergeant pondered the question for a moment but shook his head, not seeing any reason to. "Alright then, how long do you think this will take?"

Connors shrugged, "One hour, maybe two." It was a conservative estimate, he was pretty sure he could be there inside 45 minutes, but with Manhattan traffic, one never knew.

There was a moment's hesitation from the Captain, about what, Connors couldn't guess, but the older man finally bobbed his head. "Alright then, but I want to know what you find immediately. We need to nail whoever is behind all the killings."

"That's what you pay me for boss," replied the Detective Sergeant before turning his back and retreating down the steps. He was busy hailing a cab and paid no mind as Captain Carter walked down the street, cell phone pressed to his ear.

A police motorcycle wove through the Manhattan traffic, the face of the man riding it impassive behind his aviator shades as he saw his destination: The Amsterdam, a high-end apartment complex in midtown. Parked outside the building was another police motorcycle, its rider spotting his approaching fellow and dismounted, making his way inside the lobby. Seeing this, the approaching rider drove past the apartment and then pulled out of traffic, guiding his bike into an alleyway, and bringing it to a stop behind a dumpster, swinging one leg over the bike and putting the kickstand down.

Reaching over the bike to pull a soft case onto the seat of the vehicle, the man with white helmet and aviator sunglasses unzipped the bag and removed a DD Mk 18 Mod 1 carbine. The weapon was a shortened version of the M4 which had been stolen from Jorge Gutierrez when he was killed and since then outfitted with a few accessories, most notably a Surefire SOCOM RC2 suppressor. The man quickly gave the rifle a once over before withdrawing a pair of clamped together Magpul P-Mags and smoothly inserting one of the 30 round magazines into the rifle and then racking the charging handle back to chamber the first 5.56x45mm SS109 cartridge. With the rifle ready, the man removed his Sig Sauer handgun and holster from his belt, replacing it with another holster from the carry case, this one containing a Taurus Raging Bull revolver in .44 Magnum.

At that moment, the side door was opened by the man who had been waiting for him, and dressed identically to the Magnum toting killer, with black leather boots, white helmet, and aviators. Nods were exchanged as the man with the rifle slipped inside the building and both entered the nearby elevator, which began its ascent to the sixteenth of twenty floors. Both men got off, and the one with the rifle moved to a stairwell and ascended to the next floor, and the penthouse there, where his target was.

Arriving at the door to Lou Guzman's penthouse, the man pulled the carbine tight to his shoulder and eased the door open, peeking the muzzle through the gap. On the other side, the vigilante spotted a pair of men in Fisk Security Garb, with purple shirts and ballistic vests, guarding Guzman. Without hesitation, the assailant raised the Mk 18 and flipped the fire selector to automatic, the viewfinder of the Aimpoint optic was filled with the two men, and the Mk 18 spat out two short bursts of 62 grain bullets, cutting down both guards in short order.

Now on the clock, the vigilante threw the door the rest of the way open, weapon up to sweep the hallway for any more occupants of the penthouse. Despite the suppressor, the shots still generated enough noise to draw attention, and a bit of movement in the corner of his eye had the vigilante whipping around to fire another burst from the Mk 18, perforating the chest of a man wearing a suit. Undaunted, the man with the white helmet pressed deeper into the penthouse, rounding the corner and firing more rounds into the waiting armed guard.

Trekking down the hallway, the vigilante saw two more guards round the corner at the end of the hall. Both were summarily shot by the Mk 18, the rifle throwing out spent brass until the magazine went dry, the bolt locked back. In a fluid motion, the vigilante swapped to the magazine clamped to the now empty P-Mag before hitting the bolt release and stepping out of the hallway. In the living room before him were four suited men, including Lou Guzman himself, arrayed on the couches around the coffee table, all stared at the vigilante in shock as the Mk 18 came up and was leveled at them.

"What's going on? What's the meaning of this?" demanded Guzman, but the only reply came from the Mk 18, unleashing a long burst of lead that the vigilante directed at the four men, even as each made his own desperate attempt to find cover or flee. None succeeded, each left a bloody mess by the steel tipped 62 grain projectiles that perforated their torsos, with one catching a bullet to the back of his skull that punched a neat hole going in and out.

When the last bullet was fired, the gun now empty, the vigilante lowered the smoking weapon and surveyed the carnage he had wrought, face still impassive. His eyes focused on a bit of movement, the jittery, faltering motions of a dying man as Guzman tried to crawl away from the massacre, blood quickly soaking his shirt. In a smooth motion, the vigilante slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew his .44 Magnum, thumbing the hammer back before raising the gun and firing a single shot, the big slug blowing apart Guzman's head in a shower of gore, pieces of his skull going in a dozen different directions.

Satisfied his work was done, the vigilante turned to the entry way that led to the elevator of the building and moved towards it with purposeful strides when he saw the indicator light flash. Ducking out of sight and raising the Raging Bull, the killer waited for the lift to arrive with his gun ready. A subtle 'Ping' announced the elevator's arrival, and the vigilante could hear the doors open followed by a pair of heavy footsteps. When he heard the elevator doors close, the vigilante swept out from behind his corner and raised his revolver, finding himself face to face with a middle-aged man in business casual and look of total shock in his face at the sight of the Raging Bull. The balding man opened his mouth to say something, but it didn't come out before the report of the .44 Magnum filled the room once more.

Like Guzman, the late arrival's head popped like a grape from the force of the 300 grain projectile, the man's body falling to the ground in a heap. Holstering the .44, the vigilante made for the elevator, punching the button for the sixteenth floor, having to wait only a few moments before the door opened and his companion joined him in the elevator. Together, the pair descended to the ground floor in silence and without interruption. When the doors slid open, both stepped out and went their separate ways, with the shooter heading back for the side door and his companion making for the main lobby.

Back out in the heat of midday, the shooter quickly replaced his arms back in the soft bag and put it back into place on the Harley-Davidson. Looking back down the alleyway, the vigilante saw police vehicles arriving, including a CSI van. Narrowing his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore, the vigilante quickly remounted his bike and kicked the starter. On the first kick, the bike came to life and the killer set off, taking the bike down the alley and hooking a right, the vigilante was out of sight, taking the bike down and onto a different street, getting well away from the scene.

"Jean," greeted Watanabe as the ex-cop stepped away from her gear, which she was in the process of checking when the commissioner called. "I saw the news, Guzman's dead right? So, tell me, what killed him?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Commissioner DeWolff replied, "Shot and killed by a five-five-six rifle, along with his guards and lawyers that he was meeting. Yuri, that's not why I'm calling."

The Wraith's brow furrowed, "It's not?" she wondered, keeping the phone pressed to her ear as she started heading back upstairs to her office. "What is it then?"

"It's the stuff that isn't in the news and will stay that way if I can help it. Yuri, Guzman with meeting with his lawyers because a warrant was being issued in relation to these killings, but he was hit before it got to him," explained DeWolff.

Reaching the second floor of the loft, Watanabe came to a stop and bit her lip before replying, "So is this related to my case or not?"

"I'm getting to that," returned Jean, but there was an unease, an anxiety in her friend's voice that irked Yuri. "Guzman wasn't the only one killed. It seems that on his way out, the killer shot the cop serving that warrant. It was one of yours Yuri, it was Connors."

The news hit the ex-Captain like a slap in the face, "Jack?" she asked, unable to think of anything else.

"I'm sorry," consoled Jean weakly, "It was damn rotten timing, CSI guys said it looked like he was ambushed coming off the elevator, never even went for his gun, his body wasn't even cold when they found him. Yuri, he was shot and killed by a forty-four, we pulled the slug out of the wall, it's being looked at now, but I'm confident it was one of your vigilantes. I'm sending you the file now."

"Got it, gimme a sec," replied Watanabe as she took a deep breath and pushed her grief aside. Making straight for her office, the Wraith opened her email to find the file Jean had just sent her and skimmed through it, and one detail instantly stood out. "Alright, it says here there was already a cop there when CSI and the stakeout team arrived, an Officer Michael Grimes, know him?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Jean answered, "Not well, I ran into him once. He's a rookie, Traffic. Found him and some buddies at the range late at night, they were all damn good shots. Better than me," admitted the Commissioner, "Might even be as good as you."

Raising an eyebrow, Yuri grabbed a pin and noted that name down, "And how did he beat the stakeout guys across the street?"

"He was doing a welfare check at the time," replied DeWolff, "We have the records for that too if you want to see them."

"Sure, send them over," answered Watanabe, trying to stay calm despite her heart starting to beat faster, "I'll take a look at everything right now."

"Let me know if you find anything, we're a bit shorthanded over here with so many stakeouts underway," replied DeWolff. "And one last thing, there's going to be a memorial for Connors tomorrow morning at O'Brens if you're interested." Yuri 'hmmed' an acknowledgement, but didn't offer anything beyond that. Jean, finally realizing that Watanabe wasn't about to speak, sighed, "We won't let these bastards get away with this Yuri. I promise you that."

The line went dead and Yuri couldn't help but toss her cell aside as she opened up the file about the welfare check and vowed to herself more than anyone, "No, we won't."

Closing Notes: Hopefully you all enjoyed that, it was something I enjoyed doing, recreating a couple of scenes from the movie as we press forward towards the finale. Most of all that is already drafted out and should continue to come out at the current pace. There were a few little things here that I know aren't 100% accurate, such as the part with a .44 being used to hunt bear, just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Next chapter should be interesting, because Some Heads are Gonna Roll.

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.