Sorry for my MIA status. Now I'm back and will last until this 20+ chapter arc goes through. Thanks for waiting!

Saturday night, 10:46 PM. Normally Officer McCall would be at home with his daughter, having one of their weekly family dinners, but this week was a busy one for the two of them. The security guard, Yamato, coincidentally found his night shift to be at the same time and place as Officer McCall. Again. They've been bumping into each other for so long, it is now considered as unusual if they don't.

"So how is your family?" Officer McCall said as he flipped around his pen, diligently procrastinating from the report he was supposed to fill. "Don't they like, miss you a lot? You sure travel often for your job."

His family is doing fine. Always has. The hometown he grew up in was never troubled. As for their concerns, well, while it's always better to spend time with one's family in person, the advances in today's communication technology helped tremendously. When he was younger he'd have to write letters, and it may be just him, but half the time he doesn't trust it to be delivered.

"Man, this sure sucks." McCall stood up from his work desk and stretched, rather audibly. "It's good that she was able to get inside the terrorist's computer and find out about this Organization gang, but why do I have to do all the paperwork? She'll have to learn how to do this as well, if she wants to follow in her mother's footsteps."

Yamato replied not with words but an understanding smile, his eyes hidden by the shadow cast from his cap. What a strange family. Strange, yet capable. Officer McCall is a distinguished agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation for his twenty years of service, and his daughter, Alicia, already proved herself to be a competent detective at a young age of 16. Her mother Mrs. McCall, while passed away, was the famous spy that was sent in infiltrate the KGB in the 80′s and made it back alive unscathed. As a simple security guard Yamato couldn't just compare with them, and yet they had been meeting each other at various headquarters and stations for who knows how long. Fate had tied a string between their families, but for what purpose?

McCall walked over to the backroom, where the strange duffel bag was stored. It may look like one in appearance, but in truth Yamato heard it be a「Stand」, one of those unusual phenomena that only a select bunch in the world have. It was most likely the reason as to how the terrorists were able to sneak in the firearms into the plane. He doesn't have a Stand himself, and sometimes he can't help but wonder if it's safe to work with the McCall family, wielders of such strange abilities.

"You know," McCall returned from the room and walked over to one of the blinds by the windows. "That bag, Alicia still couldn't find its user. Where are they right now? Are they connected to this Organization the terrorists mentioned in their computer? I feel like we have just discovered something big, Yamato, something we weren't meant to discover. Just how long have this group's been established in our society? This surely can't be the first time they've assisted terrorists. Hell, that explosion in Hollywood a few years ago may be thanks to them."

That was the last thing he said before the glass broke and a bullet shot through his head. Yamato rushed over to McCall, who lost conscious almost immediately. The bullet seemed to stop right before it fully entered his skull, a small portion of it sticking out. He, as a normal person, couldn't see them, but was that the work of his Stand?

Another bullet came through from the other window. Yamato ducked and leaned against the wall. A sniper? What could they be possibly be seeking, in a lone station like this?

Then it hit him. The duffel bag. They are here to retrieve it.

Yamato reached for his handheld receiver, but before he could speak into it and request for reinforcements, the bullet from earlier went through his hand. He let out a cry blended with pain and surprise. How did that happen? The bullet, he was sure it missed. But it had come from the direction where it landed.

Breathing heavily, he propped himself against the wall and reached for his pistol with his other hand. Focus, he told himself. Listen, and predict their possible next moves. If he was the sniper, where would they attack next? They must have figured out by now that they were the only two in the station, for otherwise Yamato would have already yelled for help.

Picking up a mug dropped from Officer McCall's desk, he held it just a little up so that the tip of it peeks out from the window. It was shot almost immediately, and he would have tried to figure out where they were shooting from if the bullet didn't stop right there. Instead of hitting the desk like he expected it do, the bullet bounced up to the wall and then ricocheted through his left thigh. He let out another pained scream. Is this how the bullet from earlier hit? It must have ricocheted around to hit him, in order to disable his receiver.

Then he saw it. The gleam. It was only a second before the sniper must have realized it and turned away, but he had seen it. The moon, cleared from the cloudy night, had shone through the sights of their rifle. A small light was sent to the wall in front of him. They certainly did not expect the moon to suddenly clear on a night like this. Now he knows where they are. If they retreat to another position, it would give him the time to escape and hide or destroy the evidence, the duffel bag.

Another shot. It bounced around the room wildly before hitting him in the left shoulder. The impact, for some reason, was tremendous. But that was irrelevant to him. The rush of adrenaline numbed most of the pain. What mattered was that they chose to stay and finish him off. He stabbed his gun out and shot a few rounds without looking. While they were distracted, he dragged McCall's body to a safer location in the room. His daughter already lost her mother at a young age. If her father died, how would he be able to face her?

Snipers seldom move, almost never if they had their targets in sight. Judging from the previous shot from the same window, they must be still in the same spot. And if he still remembers the spot on the wall where the gleam shone…

Yamato reached his gun out and fired a shot directly towards the source of the moonlight glimmer. His shot, one in a million, would have traveled straight to the sniper, if their shot did not completely overpower it. The thick rifle round went through his bullet, as if encased in some sort of armor, crushing it to a flat stub. He would have died instantly if his own bullet didn't save him, the smoothened end covering the round and grazing the side of his head.

Officer McCall, he fell on his back, darkness swarming his vision like angry hordes of ants. I have failed…

Yamato the security guard, retired.