A/N: I merged chapters 1 and 2 because… I make really short chapters. ;A; Plus, if I just did chapter 1 it wouldn't of been much, anyway. Not much events I guess. Felt like I would of ended it all of a sudden. Anyway, sorry for a slow start.

I was quietly fired a few days after the big chase. I didn't mind it- I didn't like working for Curtis. He was too egoistical and ignored almost everything... Until there was a lawsuit waiting for him. It's fine, though. I was hired for an investigator. I get paid less, but better than working there, trying to fight with clients. I am still independent when I work, which gives me chances to go over some things each day.
The Redevelopment Fund case is in the back of my mind- and it always will be. Even if I get rid of them. Of course, I can't go around shooting them all... I'll get fired for that, and would be hung. It's too idiotic, anyway. I'll look in the files, personal files of each and every founder that is in the development. One is already dead, but I think I may need to check for links towards anyone else. I know that the hardest person to take out will be Monroe. I shot him in the leg, and found out basic facts. Even that helped us get somewhere. But these returning GI's need a damn break. They're being killed off by fires and poor construction. I am aware that people don't see GI's as a big deal, but, as an investigator, you need to see it as a big deal.
I also recall that man that was going to be elected for DA. I'm not sure if he made it on or not. I look back on the day he walked into the hospital and offered me the job. I was quite surprised- happy even.

I sat in my office as I looked through the thin pile of papers on the desk. I was looking at a side case. I have a mix between murders and accidents in my files usually. There usually aren't "accidents," though. And the murders are usually swept under the rug and they take more time to look for and figure out. Things like "accidents" are when someone gets hit by a car, or even house problems. Like, roofs falling and stairs collapsing- things like that. I haven't even seemed to get away from crap like that. Whatever case I get, I usually go work with Traffic, Homicide, Vice or Arson. I'm not considered a detective, I feel like an all-around detective. It's different, at least. Better than seeing wrecked houses all the time.
I sighed as I tossed the folders back onto the desk. I've finished all of these cases- and they're all the same- it's like I'm doing the same cases again and again. "Dammit all. I need a new case." I say quietly to myself as I rub the bridge of my nose. I get up from my chair and stroll around my office, "I've been sitting here for more than an hour and nothing." I whisper to myself as I open the door to my office and decide to take a walk throughout the building. "If anyone needs me, they can come get me…" I said as I left my office.
I put my hands in my pockets as I looked into the hallways of the building. I must be quiet because there are trials and conferences going on in some rooms. I can hear people pleading for innocence, and how they didn't do it, and others crying. Sometimes I think about how it can be tough to be here.
I take another good 20 minutes of time to walk around, taking a break from being stuck in my office most of the day. I hear a click behind me, and see a reflection of a flash- I turn around to see someone shoving a camera in my face, I roll my eyes as I look over at the man,
"What the hell do you want?" I ask impatiently.
" I need a picture for the papers-" The journalist replied, looking anxious.
I frown, expressing my hostility,
"For what report? I haven't been doing anything special." I say. I turn around on my heel as I continue to walk back to my office.
"You were the one, the man who shot Leland Monroe, and was chased after all those cops?" He asked, which caused me to stop in my tracks. From a distance I face him again, with a puzzled face.
"That's correct- But, that was 2 months ago. It's not important anymore." I reply, folding my arms.
"Yeah, but there was more to it, wasn't there-"
"I don't have time to talk about it- It happened a couple months back, forget about it." I say sternly, giving him one more look before unfolding my arms and walking again. It was silent as I began walking back. Did he give up and go home?
"You know more about it… and you want to figure the rest out, don't you, Kelso?" The man said, calmly, holding his camera aside.
"How would you know?" I ask with a curious tone. "Detective Cole Phelps already figured out about the fires, who was causing them, and who the guy was working for."
"Of course. But, the goons behind haven't been caught yet have they, Jack?"
I look down to the floor, and back up at him,
"No, they haven't."
"And you wanted to put them away?"
"Yes… Of course I do."
There was a pause between us… He tilted his head slightly to the side,
"I can help you, Jack." He offered. I was shocked, I didn't know what to say. After all of this time- Someone can help.
"Exactly how? You can't just walk up to their doorstep and expect them to give themselves up." I reply. I shouldn't be arguing with him if I want his help…
"Don't toy with me, I know that much," He said, digging through his pants' pocket. He walked over to me and handed me a note on lined paper- saying, Baron's Bar, 7 P.M.
"Meet me there, got it?"
I nodded,

"Got it. I'll see you there."

I sat in the Baron's Bar by myself. I held a glass of half-drank-whiskey in my hand as I loosened myself. I glanced up at the clock, 6:45. God dammit, I have to wait fifteen more minutes- Is this guy even going to show? I needed a drink , anyway. It's been a long time since I've had time for a whiskey. I like how it numbs my mind for a while. I don't see it as an addiction, it's something like a reward.

I listen to King Cole (No pun) in the bar as I tap my index and middle finger to the slow beat of the swing as I wait ever so longer for this man to arrive. Speaking of which, I'm still unsure about him, he takes me photo and bugs me about a photo for a report... And then soon offers me help to rid of the founders of the Redevelopment Fund. I don't get it... It's queer.

I shut my eyes for a moment, tuning out people's drunk laughter and the odd one being kicked out.

I suddenly feel a hand gently pat my back. I rise my head and look at the man. It was the reporter I met earlier today.

"Hello- I don't think I'm late, am I?" He greeted with a faint smile and glanced for a clock. I sniffled, I was a bit groggy from the alcohol and not to mention that I was tired.

"I don't think you're late. I wasn't even sure if you'd show up," I said, with a small laugh, "I thought you were just screwing with me earlier." The man laughed at me.

"Of course not. A lot of people want them taken out... Believe or not." He stated, with a smug smirk. I looked at him for a moment with a blank expression, I then offered him a seat as he ordered his own glass.

"Really? I thought they owned everyone. Who wants them out? I mean, besides us." I say, as I take another swig.

"The GI's want them out, the innocent families that had their houses burned down, some detectives want them gone, too... Hell, there's probably citizens hiding in the public that want them caught, too." The man replied, holding onto his glass. I nodded with understanding.
"That's great. I just want to know how to get rid of them." I say, looking over at him.
"Alright, alright, I gotcha-"
"Just a quick question, though," I interrupt, turning my whole body towards him, "Why are you offering in the first place? Do I need to pay you a huge amount of money? 'Cause you can leave right now- 'cause I'm not." I said, pointing at him. The man chuckled,
"You need to lay off the drink for a while, kid."