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

I replayed the original FEAR the last few weeks, had fun, might do something with that, we'll see.

As for this chapter, I had a bit of fun with the opening bit, those who have read Power Without Question will understand why. I do also want to make it clear that this story is just that, and so while I do take some inspiration from real life events, I don't intend to provide commentary on them.

The title for this chapter is a Judas Priest track off the underrated Defenders of the Faith. It's got a couple good tracks, the title cut, The Sentinel, and Jawbreaker, but 'Some Heads are Gonna Roll' is what I've gone for here. More a promise than a description of the chapter's events, I just wanted to use Priest once, and this was what won out.

Justice Without Compromise – Chapter 7: Some Heads Are Gonna' Roll

The power-mad freaks who are

Ruling the earth

Will show little they think you're worth

With animal lust they'll devour your life

And slice your word to bits like a knife

One last day burning hell fire

You're blown away

If the man with the power

Can't keep it under control

Some heads are gonna roll

With a full night's sleep and coffee and breakfast in her hands, Yuri Watanabe sat down in her office and looked over all the work she had done the previous day. There certainly had been a lot to tear through; with the death of one of their own, the NYPD had pulled out all the stops when it came to investigating the scene at Guzman's apartment. As a result, even the preliminary report was a monstrous document, made worse by the details of the crime with multiple dead and just as many departments involved. Despite all the investigative dead ends, there was still some useful information to be gleaned from crime scene analysis.

Unfortunately, the building security cameras never showed the intruder responsible for the massacre, nor had he left behind any fingerprints, hairs, or DNA that CSI could find. No witnesses had been left behind either, and none of the cops arriving to serve the warrant saw anything despite only showing up minutes after Connors had been shot, at least if the coroner's estimated time of death was accurate, and Yuri knew the man, so she expected that it was. Checking her email, Yuri saw that there was something new in her inbox; Jean had sent her the ballistics reports.

Scanning through them, Watanabe tried to turn the results into something she could use, but for all of her knowledge on the subject, Yuri didn't know the practical applications of the data. Luckily, she knew someone who did and found his name in the contacts list of her cell. Checking the time on her phone, the ex-Captain did a bit of mental arithmetic before pressing her thumb down on the contact and putting the phone on speaker.

The ringer droned on, ringing several times and prompting Yuri's foot to tap of its own accord before the call was finally answered. "Howdy Yuri, it's been some time. How're things going for you over there?" answered the drawl of Matthew Cooper, a man for whom the descriptor of 'gun nut' would be a mild understatement.

"Hello old friend," greeted Watanabe, unable to keep a small smile off her face at the memories that came to mind. "I've been staying busy, I got a case I could use your help on, if you're not too busy."

Instead of Cooper answering, a sultry feminine tone answered, "I suppose I can let you borrow him, Captain. Just don't keep him from me for too long, we've just arrived at the beach and I need him to do my sunscreen." Yuri rolled her eyes at the antics of the thief who Cooper was dating; both had left together, and Watanabe was rather happy to see her leave.

"It's just a gun question," Yuri replied, trying, and failing, to keep her annoyance out of her voice. "I'll give him back to you as soon as I have my answer."

There was a slight pout from the other end of the call before the man spoke again, "It's alright Darlin, you go on ahead, I'll be right there," he said distantly. A momentary pause followed before the drawl spoke directly to her, "Alright Yuri, you got my attention, what can I do you for?"

Watanabe resisted the urge to crack a joke about how only guns could take the Pilot away from his girl and got to business. "I have the ballistics report for a shooting, I want to see if you can make something out of it that I can't."

"Sure thing Yuri," replied Cooper, "Read it off and I'll do what I can."

Scrolling back to the relevant section, Watanabe cleared her throat and started reading. "'Slugs recovered were approximately .22 inches in diameter, construction was a lead projectile with steel tip, encased in a copper jacket.'"

"M855," interjected Cooper. "It's the standard cartridge of the US Army. I'll bet you'll say they had green points and weighed 62 grains."

Yuri looked at the next two sentences and blinked, "Yeah, that's what it says. That all makes sense enough to me, but this next part is where I get lost." Scrolling down, the Wraith arrived at the section of the report she really didn't understand. "'It must be noted that the recovered slugs are in remarkable condition, with fragmentation only occurring upon striking bone,'" quoted Yuri before asking, "What's so significant about that?"

"Well, it helps tell you what kinda gun they were shot from," replied Cooper casually. When Yuri answered him with silence, the Pilot explained further, "Five-five-six is kinda funny, it behaves differently at different speeds, right? The faster it goes, the more likely it is to yaw and fragment in soft tissue, and its speed is directly related to the barrel length of the gun it came out of. So if it wasn't fragmenting it must've been coming out of something pretty short," supposed the Texan. "What was the range of this? Fifty yards? Hundred?"

"Fifteen feet," deadpanned Yuri.

"Damn, okay, that changes things," mused the Pilot, "Could be some sort of AR pistol maybe… or it could be… Yuri, do you know if the gun was suppressed by chance?"

Watanabe blinked, mind going back through the report before a line from it came back to the forefront of her memory, "Yeah, it probably was. The only things the people on the floors above and below the shooting recognized as gunshots were the ones from a forty-four magnum. So, it probably was suppressed."

"Okay then, that opens up the options a bit. Now you could be looking at something like a subcarbine, a real short-barreled thing, but still shoulder fired," explained Cooper, with Yuri writing down the word 'subcarbine' with a question mark. "Something like a ten-inch barrel or thereabouts."

"Is that like what you use?" asked Yuri as she scooped up her phone, already moving out of her office and back downstairs to where she kept her guns.

"Nah, the guns I use are traditional carbines, which have barrels that are twelve-fives or thereabouts. My guns don't use that cartridge, but even if they did, I personally wouldn't go any shorter." Yuri gave an 'explain' grunt as she descended the steps. Cooper continued, "Five-five-six is a funny round, you see a really big drop in performance if you go below a 14.5-inch barrel, and another drop below 12. If I were using a five-five-six, I personally wouldn't go below the 14.5, like the one I left you. It's what the Army M4 Carbine is. Sure, it's nice to shave a few inches off with one of those shorter guns, but I don't like that trade myself."

Clearly, the killers did make that trade, valuing that compactness over ballistic performance. Arriving at where she kept her rifles, Yuri found the AR-15 that Cooper had left her, even if she had never used the tricked-out weapon. "Alright, I'm looking at that AR you left me, what would I have to do to get a gun like the one used? Just cut the barrel down? Could I swap in a new one?"

That elicited an immediate response, "No! No, no, no, no, no," answered Cooper emphatically, "It ain't that simple Captain, you need new handguards too, and a different gas system, since typically it taps gas from near the end of the barrel. Changing that is no easy job, since the different barrel length screws with the pressures it takes whole new parts, or some serious gunsmithing. I would just save myself the hassle and get a gun built that way from the factory, like a G36C or Mark 18."

"Okay, I see," replied Yuri, putting the rifle back in its place and pulling out her notepad to write those two names down. "Where would you go about getting something like those?"

That was met with a burst of laughter, that elicited an unamused glare at the cackling phone until it finally subsided. "You can't, not legally anyways. I mean, sure, you could jump through the NFA hoops to get a stamp for an SBR, which you would need for any rifle with a barrel less than sixteen inches, but in New York City?" There was a sharp exhale, "It's more likely that Doc Ock breaks outta the RAFT."

Yuri gave a sideways glance at all the weapons the man had left to her and considered asking him where he got them, before deciding she didn't really want to know. "Alright, so someone went out of their way to get an illegal weapon, and a pretty niche one at that. Who would even bother with something like that?"

"Special Forces types, or someone like them," answered Cooper. "After all, they were the ones who requested all these super short rifles be developed and they're the only ones who use them. Something like GSG-9, SAS, Navy SEALs, or Army Rangers, all those guys love those guns." Yuri was about to ask and see if he agreed with her revolver theories, but Cooper's voice came back over the line. "Sorry Yuri, I gotta go and uh, take care of Felicia. Listen, if you still need help, call back in a couple hours."

Watanabe let out a small huff, "Fine, thanks for your help Coop, go have fun."

"Hahaha, I will, take care Captain," said Cooper before the phone clicked and the call ended. Rubbing her nose, Yuri wrote down a few more notes before collecting her cell and heading back upstairs to get changed before she had to go to Connors' memorial.

O'Bren's was a small bar just down the street from the Chinatown Precinct. Despite not really fitting into the area, or perhaps because of that, it had proven a popular place for the police officers of the precinct to gather after their shifts were over. As a result, it had become the unofficial place to hold parties for retirements and promotions, or memorials for those who died.

For her last year as Captain, Yuri Watanabe had seen a lot more of the latter than the former, and so walking up to the bar brought back a lot of memories she'd rather have let lie. Approaching the bar, Watanabe felt a pang of anxiety in her gut, but pressed on, wondering if she would be recognized, and what trouble that might cause her. Either way, she would at least pay her respects to the wall that held the photos of those who lost their lives in the line of duty, which would already have one more picture on it.

Opening the door and stepping inside, the vigilante saw the gathered officers inside, the mood unsurprisingly somber. Weaving her way through those gathered, Watanabe returned nods to those whom she recognized until she arrived at the memorial wall. Taking a breath, Yuri looked over the rows of pictures, recalling the names of the ones she knew, who died on her watch. Watanabe was lost in her thoughts when she felt a presence at her side and whipped around, fist clenched when she saw the shocked face of Detective Early Smith, holding a pair of beers. The younger man offered her one, and she took it after a moment's hesitation. "Did you know him?" asked Smith as Yuri took a sip.

"For five years," replied Yuri, "He was a good man, a fine detective. But you probably know that."

"Yeah, I do," confirmed Smith. "He helped me get settled, showed me the ropes, even helped me find an apartment over here. He… he spoke very highly of you. It's why I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here." The young detective paused, taking a drink to build up a bit of courage, "Do you really believe that it was your vigilante who killed him? Vigilantes don't usually kill cops."

"I don't think he was killed," corrected Yuri, "I think he was sacrificed."

Watanabe turned to see Smith staring blankly at her, "Uh huh," he answered, going back to his beer. Yuri then saw his eyes narrow and turned to the door, seeing the one man she had hoped to avoid come through the front. "Look at that, it's the Captain."

"Damnit," cursed Yuri as Stanley Carter stalked into the bar, prompting what conversation there was to die out, all eyes watching the bespectacled man make a beeline for the woman he had replaced. Turning to face the current Captain of the precinct, Yuri gave him a cold glance, "Carter."

Stanley gave her a similar look, "Watanabe," he ground out, grimace carved into his features, "What are you doing here?"

"Paying my respects to a friend. I am still allowed to do that, even if I'm not a cop anymore," retorted Watanabe as she straightened, not backing down from Carter.

"You were never much of a cop Yuri, more like a walking case of police brutality," rebuked Carter, crossing his arms. "I'm still cleaning up the mess you left after all these months. Your way, Yuri, it doesn't work. I'm going to do things differently now."

Watanabe's jaw set, letting her next words come out slow and measured, "I just did my job."

"So am I, and I've been doing this longer than you." Carter sneered at her, even as Yuri remained unphased, "And let me just say that I've never had to draw my weapon in that time."

Nodding slowly, Watanabe took a breath and met Carter's gaze, "You're a good man Captain, and a good man always knows his limitations."

With the bar so silent one could hear a pin drop, Yuri stepped aside and pushed past Carter, making a beeline for the door. Before she could leave, a hand on her shoulder stopped, "You were a little hard on him, don't you think?" asked Early, but Watanabe just shrugged. The young Detective shook his head in exasperation, but Yuri noticed his eyes were looking elsewhere. "What's he doing here?"

Watanabe turned to see a man, six feet tall, wearing a leather jacket over his patrolman's blue uniform, and a head of dirty blonde hair, remove a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Davis!" called out Smith, and the blonde cop turned to face them, offering a gloved hand to Early. The detective shook the patrolman's hand and spoke, "I haven't seen you since the academy, what are you doing here?"

The blonde cop offered a consoling smile, "To pay my respects, I met him briefly and it felt like the right thing to do. Did you know him?"

"I did," confirmed Smith, "He was a good man." Davis nodded his head and took his leave, heading for the memorial wall.

"Who was that?" asked Yuri, gesturing to the traffic cop with her beer before taking a drink.

"Oh, one of the guys who went through the academy with me, we didn't talk much but everyone knew about Davis and his crew," explained Smith, taking a swig of his own beer.

Yuri eyed the man before asking, "What about them?"

"They were the best shots in the class, Davis there and his pals all signed up together, apparently they were in the same army unit." Smith paused to work on his drink, and Yuri did the same to hide her expression. "Some airborne unit, I think. Rangers, something like that."

"Really?" asked Yuri, eyebrow raised as her heart beat a little faster, "What were the names of the other guys?"

Smith furrowed his brow in thought as Yuri went back to her beer. "Lemme think, there were four guys, Davis, Sweet, Grimes, and… the guy with the funny name, Astrachan, that's it." Yuri pulled out her phone as Smith went back to his beer, "Why do you ask?"

Yuri finished typing the four names in and put her cell back in her pocket, "Oh, just curious," replied the Wraith before finishing off her beer. "I better get going, get back to work. Take care of yourself Early."

Tossing the bottle in the trash, Yuri turned and left O'Bren's with four names to check out.

Setting a bag of takeout on his desk after returning from the memorial, Detective Early Smith looked at the now bare desk that had belonged to Connors before sighing deeply and sitting down. He had opened the to-go bag just as a stack of papers was plopped on his desk. "What's this?" asked Early as he looked up at Captain Carter.

"The DA's office isn't wasting anymore time, they've issued several warrants for the others we've had under surveillance," informed the Captain as he slid the papers across Smith's desk. "You've got Palancio, Smith, and at 1 o'clock, you're going to arrest him. I'm sending you some backup, a group of patrol officers to make the arrest, you just need to be there and supervise. Do this and it'll look good when the time comes for a promotion."

Smith picked up the warrant and began skimming through it. "Who am I getting?" asked the detective without looking up.

"Davis, Sweet, Astrachan, and Grimes. You know them, right?" asked Carter, and Early nodded once. "With so much happening at once we're spread a bit thin, so they're the ones helping you. Let them make the arrest, stay back with your stakeout guys, and move in to secure and investigate the premises. This is the most important arrest, it's the first of the day, and I don't want any foul ups, understand?" Early nodded once again. "Alright then, you'd better get your ass down to the docks."

Smith rolled his bag back up, taking it and the warrant with him when he stood up and turned to leave, but didn't get two steps. "Smith," said Carter, prompting the detective to turn around, "Keep this quiet, tell nobody outside your team, and we want to avoid a front-page shootout, got it? I am not prepared to tolerate some things that… others might have been."

"Yeah," grunted Smith, not having to spend much brain power guessing who Carter was referring to. "I know my limitations," said the detective before turning away and making for the elevator.

Back in her loft, Yuri threw away the trash from the hot dog she had grabbed from a favorite street vendor on the way back and pulled out her phone as she made straight for the nearest notepad. With the names written down, Watanabe then took the steps two at a time as she made for her office and the board with a list of cops that were in the area of each killing by her suspected vigilantes. "Damn," she cursed, not very surprised but not happy to see that at least one of them was in the area of every killing at the time they occurred.

It wasn't enough to go to court, or even get a warrant, but Yuri couldn't help the way her skin prickled as she saw the names appear on her board. Circling each one in red, Watanabe began calling DeWolff, with the commissioner picking up on the second ring. "I have names, I need files," began Yuri bluntly.

"Nice to talk to you too," deadpanned DeWolff in return. "We have multiple operations underway so unless this is important, I don't have time for a request."

"These might be my vigilantes," said Watanabe, "I just don't have anything concrete and need to know more about them."

Yuri could hear the heaving sigh over the phone line. "How am I supposed to get a warrant to investigate that?"

"You don't need a warrant Jean," retorted Yuri, "Because they're your cops."

"You're shitting me," snapped Commissioner DeWolff, the woman's voice taking on a dangerous tone. Yuri merely stayed quiet, trusting in her friend to think this through. It took Jean a few seconds, but she did speak again, far calmer than before, "You're not shitting me. You suspected cops from the beginning, that's why you've been keeping me out of the loop," surmised the Commissioner. "Alright, what have you got?"

"The civilian killed at the bar bombing said a cop placed the bomb and then shot her. She was insistent it was a cop and not just someone dressed like one," began Watanabe.

"How sure was she?" pressed DeWolff.

"Damn sure," Yuri replied, pressing back, "And before you ask how, she pegged you as a cop the night before. So I started checking, the killers clearly knew the weaknesses in the Electric Eye and our patrol patterns. I suspect there are four, working in concert, patrolmen, Davis, Sweet, Astrachan, and Grimes."

A thoughtful silence followed, and Yuri felt her jaw tense. When the next words weren't outright rejection, the Wraith let out a breath. "Why do you suspect them?"

"Our vigilantes have demonstrated training, tactics, use of explosives, and skills in line with special forces. Those four were all Army Rangers. In the Guzman killing, the rifle used was the type favored by Rangers," explained Watanabe. "I went back through the earlier killings and at least one of them was always in the area at the time it happened, that's according to your own data."

"But none of them were ever at the crime scene," protested DeWolff.

"Your records don't track cops who aren't on duty, Jean," remined Yuri, "One of them would be a lookout, and another would be the shooter. I bet if you check their time on the clock you'll see I'm right."

"God…" muttered DeWolff, "You're right, it's circumstantial, but it's damn compelling. Alright, I'll pull their files and send them over to you, probably give them a look myself." Yuri went back to her desk, pushing aside that nagging voice that said she was still searching for whoever had leaked her file yet didn't hesitate to have someone do the same.

"Yuri, we have a complication. All four are on duty now, they're going with the raid on Palancio's place down at the docks," reported DeWolff.

Eyes widening, Watanabe spun and grabbed her gear off the rack in the room, "Alright, I'll head down there and watch, this might be their next move."

"Yuri!" snapped Jean, "This is a serious and official police operation. I can't have you crashing it. Just observe."

"I'm not going to let them kill another cop Jean," growled the Wraith before ending the call and suiting up.

Inside a small conference room, six men were gathered around the table, perusing their phones and eating Chinese takeout when the old-fashioned landline phone began to ring. Like everyone else, Frank Palancio turned to look at the dust covered phone before nodding to one of his subordinates. The old Maggia racketeer watched as the younger man stood and made his way to the ancient device and picked up the telephone. "Hello," he greeted, though the word almost came out as a question. Like the others, Palancio watched the young man's face, seeing it go from neutral to worried, "Uh huh, is that so?" he asked. Around the table, glances were exchanged before the young man speaking caught their attention again, "Yeah? Who is this?" A second later, the man looked at the handset with a raised eyebrow before replacing it in the receiver.

"Well?" asked Palancio, "What was that all about boy?"

The younger Maggia member tugged at the collar of his shirt, "That was a warning. Apparently, we're going to be hit in five minutes. The same guys that nailed Carmine, Novelli, Ranza, and Guzman are coming for us and… and they're dressed like cops."

Looks and hushed whispers were exchanged as Palancio pondered the implications, setting his lunch aside and folding his hands. Around him, his subordinates debated, but it was a conversation that the boss ended with a single word. "Who?"

"He uh… he called himself 'Franks old pal from the precinct' and said this was 'one last tip.'" A silence fell on the room as all eyes turned to look at Palancio and the young man asked the question going through all of them, "What's this about boss?"

Palancio chewed on his lip for a moment before meeting the gazes of everyone else in the room. "For the last ten years, there's been a guy on the inside feeding info to the Families. Earlier this year he gave Hammerhead the file of that cop chick, then went off the grid." Frank looked around the room before revealing, "I was a go between when I worked for the old families. If he's telling me this now, then it's true." Pausing for a beat to let that sink in, he then gave the order, "Everyone, get ready."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the room sprang into action, each of the men going to a different cabinet and pulling out the mix of submachine guns, assault rifles, and shotguns concealed inside. The clattering sounds of the weapons being made ready filled the room as Palancio stood and buttoned his sport coat, returning to his own desk and opening the drawer where he kept his personal MP5K and the taped together magazines for the weapon. Pulling the charging handle back and locking it in the rear position, Palancio inserted the stick mag and then gave the charging handle's knob a rough slap, knocking it out its slot and letting it shoot forward under spring pressure. Wrapping his hand around the guns built in foregrip, Palancio's lip curled, determined to not go down without a fight.

"Boss, movement, out front!" called one of his men from the windows, causing everyone to turn to the try and get a peek through the blinds, "Looks like two cops on motorcycles. They're parking their bikes out by the containers it looks like… now they're heading this way."

"Another two coming from the back," reported a second subordinate, and Palancio shifted at the revelation that they were surrounded.

"I got a car!" called the guy looking out the front window, "Not a cop car. Two guys getting out, no uniforms. Those don't look like no cops to me Frank."

"Everyone, out of sight!" ordered Palancio, and those not looking out the windows ducked behind whatever cover they could find in the tight confines of the office. "We sure these guys aren't cops?"

"These guys out back aren't moving like cops Frank," called the guy looking out the back window. "They just took their guns out! They're covering the back door!"

"The two up front are coming to the door, one of them's holding something, can't see what!" added the man keeping watch on the opposite side.

Frank tried to think, find some way out of this, but his racing mind was brought to an abrupt halt by a knock on the door. Grip shifting on his gun, Frank saw that everyone was looking to him to answer, and so he said what he thought would get him out of this situation, assuming there was a way out. "We're closed! Come back tomorrow!"

A voice called back from the other side of the door, "We're police officers. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Shifting his grip on the submachine gun in his hands, the Maggia boss spoke again. "I'm just a watchman," he lied, "There's nobody here."

"We're looking for Mr. Frank Palancio," announced the man on the other side of the door. Frank tried to imagine where he was on the other side, noting that he couldn't see his shadow on the window next to the door and felt some more unease creep into his stomach. "Would you open the door, sir? We have a warrant for his arrest."

Hearing his name sent a spike of fear through Palancio, and a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. "I said nobody's here, god damnit!" he yelled as he flicked the safety of his SMG off.

"You still need to let us in, sir," insisted the cop. Or hitman thought the Maggia boss, the uncertainty fraying his nerves. "We have warrants for a search of the premises."

Frank knew that was bullshit, how could they have warrants? His activity here was all legal, above board, hell, the company he ran even paid his taxes! And if there was a warrant, then his inside man would have come through and said that, right? Except that wasn't what he had said, he said this was a hit, and Frank came to the conclusion the man outside was stalling as his finger curled around the trigger. "Serve them!" he snarled before he pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit!" shouted Early as he ducked behind his car, pulling the door open to reach in and grab the radio handset. "Control, this is car 2-6, we are taking fire from automatic weapons at the docks, requesting backup!" called the young detective.

The radio crackled for a second before the dispatcher came on, "Say again 2-6…" began the woman before another burst of gunfire rang out and Early ducked lower, more by reflex than any additional safety. Rounds peppered the car, keeping Smith and the other man he was with pinned until the fire finally stopped.

Smith popped his head out, seeing that one of the windows was now shot out on the office, in addition to the door. "Say again dispatch," he said into the handset while peeking over the hood. The only good news was that the two cops who had approached from the front, Davis and Grimes, had been on their toes, and looked to be okay. They were laying prone, pistols drawn, clearly looking for a way to effectively fight back.

More, distant gunfire echoed through the shipping yard before the dispatcher came back over the radio. "2-6, backup is en route. ETA is nine minutes," replied the dispatcher, prompting the detective to curse under his breath.

Reaching for his own service weapon, Smith drew the Glock 19 and took aim, squeezing off a trio of shots before another burst of automatic fire had the detective ducking down. A panting breath had him more than cognizant of his pounding heart and the adrenaline surging in his veins as the bullets zipped overhead, some small part of him knew it was his first time being shot at but he didn't dwell on it. When Early came back up, he saw the two motorcycle cops were up in a crouch and moving towards the shot up door. The former Rangers seemed to have a plan, and implemented it without hesitation, with one kicking the shredded door open and allowing the other to fire inside, the pistol shots having a different report than the rifle fire coming from inside. Early could see the silhouette of a Maggia man through the window as it dropped to the floor.

Another torrent of gunfire came back at the two traffic cops as both dove away, pressing themselves against the wall of the office until the fire died down. Then Early watched as both burst inside, and the staccato single shots came in rapid succession, the detective tried to make out what was happening inside to see if he needed to report an officer down. But before Smith could get a clear view, the sounds of an opening garage door and starting car caught his attention.

Whipping his pistol around, Early saw a big black Beamer come out of a loading bay in a flurry of tire smoke with none other than Frank Palancio himself at the wheel. Smith tried to bring his gun to bear and loosed a shot that totally missed as the car as it whipped around and accelerated past the stationary detective. Early could do nothing but watch as the car sped away, only for another gunshot to ring out, but this one was unlike any other one Smith had heard that day. More thunder than rifle fire, Early reflexively looked skyward to see if lighting would follow, but he saw neither a bolt of electricity nor a shooter.

The effects of the single shot was far more pronounced, with a dramatic squealing of tires and screeching of metal scraping on concrete as Early saw Palancio's BMW veer violently out of control, a shredded dire flying off the sparking rim. The nose of the car was cranked around, the Maggia boss at the wheel seemingly trying to regain control, but with only one rear tire all that happened was the tail of the car swung out wide and clipped the corner of a shipping container, smashing the rear third of the sedan and causing it to spin back the other way. The nose of the car crumpled as it slammed into the container and, at last, brought the car to a halt.

Early stood, mouth agape, before quickly gathering his wits and sprinting towards the wrecked car. Through the steam rising from the ruined vehicle, Smith saw the driver's door open and yelled, "Get out of the car, hands where I can see him!" as he kept sprinting forwards. The detective saw a leg emerge from the car, and then the rest of Frank Palancio as he hefted himself out of the vehicle, but he didn't emerge empty handed. Smith caught sight of the SMG in his hands as he tried to stop and bring up his own pistol, eyes wide as his mind subconsciously knew he wouldn't be able to shoot before the Maggia man gunned him down, but fight or flight had kicked in, and he tried to wrest his Glock on target as shots rang out.

Only Early felt nothing, and when he looked at Palancio over the illuminated sights of his Glock, Smith saw that the man's head had a neat third eye drilled in it, and two more red rimmed holes in his chest as he collapsed to his knees and keeled over. Craning his head around, Early saw the traffic cop, Davis, his smoking Sig Sauer still in hand, give the detective a curt nod.

With the adrenaline rapidly wearing off, the weight of what had transpired fell on Smith as he surveyed the scene, what should have been a simple arrest had gone totally wrong. "God damnit," he groaned as he holstered his pistol and looked back at the shot up office, "This is going to be a lot of paperwork."

Yuri Watanabe wasn't surprised to hear her phone ring, but despite expecting the call, she ignored it for a moment as she locked the bolt of her GOL Sniper Magnum back into place. When the Wraith was able to operate it smoothly was when she picked up the ringing phone, not having to look at the screen to know who it would be. "What do you want to know Jean?" she asked without preamble.

"I'm just seeing the reports now," admitted the Commissioner, "This was supposed to be a simple arrest. Tell me, what happened?"

"Arresting someone like Palancio is never simple, you know that Jean," replied Yuri.

Watanabe could hear her friend let out a breath on the other end of the line, "Yuri, things are looking worse, we had to call off the rest of the arrests because the first one turning into a goat fuck spooked them all. They thought we were coming to kill them too!" snapped DeWolff. "The media are having a fucking field day, and what am I supposed to tell them, huh? They think we're conducting full scale military operations. They're comparing me to Charles Bliss!"

Yuri grimaced, reasonably sure the tirade was tearing the paint off her walls, and not just the ones in DeWolff's office. "Your guys didn't do anything wrong," began the vigilante, treading carefully, "I saw the whole thing, Palancios guys fired first, after your cops knocked on the door. Assuming they announced themselves correctly, there was nothing else wrong."

"Shit," cursed DeWolff gracelessly, "Should we have gotten a no knock?"

The Wraith pondered the question for a moment, "I honestly don't think it would have made a difference."

"Why do you say that?" questioned the Commissioner quickly.

"Palancio was tipped off Jean, they knew your guys were coming. After 100 arrests I can tell the difference," Answered Yuri. "I know what you're going to say next, 'how,' and I don't know that. But they knew cops were coming, and for some reason Palancio thought he had to fight with guns and not lawyers. I hoped that when I stopped him from escaping that you'd get the chance to ask Palancio who tipped him off," admitted Watanabe.

"And was that a good shoot too?" asked Jean.

"It was," confirmed Yuri, "Frank pulled a gun, was going to kill Smith if it weren't for that traffic cop."

"Yeah, okay, just wanted to be sure," replied DeWolff before the Commissioner paused. "Hey, you don't think they were…."

"Maybe," answered Yuri shortly, "I'll tell you when I know, okay?"

"Alright Yuri, keep this close to the chest, city's close enough to a panic as is," replied Jean, "And if you need anything else, let me know."

One thing did come to mind. "I need the work schedules of the four traffic cops for the next week."

"Done," answered Jean without hesitation, "I'll send them your way. Work fast, I want this handled before the media figures out what's really going on."

With that, the call ended with a click, and Yuri tucked the cell in her pocket in exchange for a carton of cigarettes. Pulling out a cancer stick and lighting it, Watanabe took a puff, letting the nicotine take the edge off after the fiasco at the docks.

But she couldn't help but try and piece together what she didn't know. Assuming Palancio was tipped off, she wanted to know who, and if they were working with the renegade motorcycle cops. Because if they were the killers, and wanted to kill Palancio next, they had managed to do it in broad daylight in a way that would get them a commendation, at least once the political furor died down and the inevitable investigation was completed.

Yuri's train of thought was derailed by the buzz of her phone, and the Wraith pulled it out only to go wide eyed at the notification on the screen. She was expecting to see a message from Jean with the schedules of those four cops, but instead saw that the Daily Bugle had published a new article with the title ''Sin Eater' Killer Playing Cop?'

"Oh fuck," cursed Watanabe before stamping out her cigarette and heading for the stairs, now keenly aware that time was against her.

Closing Notes: This is us through Act 2, that's the best way I can describe it, all of the big plot threads have been laid out and followed, all that's left is to see how they get resolved. I'll have the next installment of that out in two weeks time.

At that point, Yuri will be understandably Paranoid.

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.