As Tony loaded his gun and started to walk, he let out a sigh. It was ironic, really. Just as he had criticised Jack for not saying no to CTU after everything it had taken from him, here he was, having not said no to Jack's request for help after everything they had been through. It was almost amusing how easily he had still taken orders from Jack. It was as if his brain had gone back twenty years ago without thinking. Tony struggled to convince himself that he had only agreed because the conspiracy was too much for one person to stop. Deep down, he was glad to be able to redeem himself in Jack's eyes. The tension from the last time they saw each other was still palpable. Between him denying visitors during his brief imprisonment and Jack recovering from the bioweapon, they hadn't exactly had the chance to talk it over. Tony was sure that if it weren't for those factors, Jack would have dragged his ass to a blacksite and done whatever it took to get the truth out of him. Sure, he had confessed Alan Wilson's role in Michelle's death, which was really the crux of it all. But there hadn't been time to talk about those almost six years before that. His time with Emerson, why he hadn't been able to rescue him from China, why he had been so secretive about his ultimate plans to the point of paranoia, and everything in between.

Tony rounded the corner now, smirking as he identified the hostile with the sniper. He seemed deep in concentration and wore an earpiece, so he likely wouldn't notice him in time. Jack was meeting up with Meredith Reed, and he was tasked with trying to look for the Russian hostiles that would have followed her, namely, the sniper that took Renee Walker's life: Pavel Tokarev, a Russian intelligence agent here on a diplomatic visa. Tony remembered when he identified the first few people involved with the bomb in Michelle's car. He could still recall how his fists had clenched when David brought up the profiles on the screen. But the deaths of those people hadn't satisfied him because the more he had learned about the Sentox conspiracy, the more names he had had to add to his list of enemies, and the less successful he had felt in his quest for vengeance. It was a slippery slope, and Jack was right at the top of it. Part of Tony was angry, knowing he had had his chance already. Granted, not for Renee, but he had been able to kill Nina, he had been able to ensure Cheng was behind bars — although Audrey was at least still alive, even if she wouldn't be the same — and he had been able to kill many people in between. The give and take with Jack was neverending. Tony wished he would give it up for his own good, really. At the same time, Tony wasn't going to deny Jack what little satisfaction he could get in his life, no matter how much he wanted to shake him by the shoulders, tell him to turn back before it was too late and go be with his family for whatever remaining years he had.

A promise was a promise.

With footsteps as silent as he could make them, he closed the gap between them, pressing the muzzle of his pistol to the hostile's neck. "Put it down," he ordered.

Tokarev obliged, his eyes still fixed on Reed through the slats.

"Everything's all clear, Jack," Tony informed him through his comm.

"Copy that."

Tony got the man to his feet and grabbed his case. He patted him down with his free hand, then walked him towards the agreed extraction point. Tokarev said nothing and didn't put up a fight. On one hand, that was a relief, knowing he wasn't trying to actively resist him. On the other, the quiet ones were always the ones to keep a close eye on, the ones who always had some trick up their sleeve. He heard gunfire in his comm. Obviously, Jack wasn't extracting Reed quite as smoothly as intended, but no news was good news, he supposed.

When they came into the light, Tony observed Tokarev's pale, scrawny appearance. Whatever Jack was about to do to him… he wasn't going to last very long. There was a satisfaction that was lost when fighting someone who was so much weaker than you. Alan Wilson hadn't exactly been Mike Tyson. He hadn't cowered in fear, either, just sat there and laughed in disbelief like the psychopath he was. Perhaps part of the issue was displacement. Although Alan Wilson was at the top of the Sentox conspiracy food chain — at least, he was pretty sure — he still wasn't quite the man to blame for Michelle's death. No, Tony knew that his seething hatred was from anger at God. He wanted to know what the hell not he but she had done to deserve to die. He might be a lapsed Catholic, but his guilt still lingered in his darkest thoughts. Ultimately, he blamed himself. He must have done something. He must have made a mistake, be it selling his soul when he enlisted or one of the many other questionable choices he had made over the years. But he supposed wondering was all he would have. It wasn't like he would ever get his chance to fistfight God, given where he was likely headed once he died.

Within a few minutes, Jack appeared, dragging a very frightened Reed with him. They proceeded through the maintenance exit, out onto the road, and into the construction site. Tony still didn't take his eyes off Tokarev. He might have a lot of mixed feelings about Jack and his plans, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do his job.

Tony ordered Tokarev to thoroughly empty his pockets while Jack got Reed to her seat. He also reminded Jack that they were on a timeframe, so if he wanted justice to be served, he wouldn't lose himself in his anger. Reed had many questions and seemed not just sceptical of the situation but Jack. When Jack confirmed that he had known about the snipers, she seemed horrified that he had willingly risked her life. But judging by how Jack's eyes kept flitting to Tokarev, Tony knew he had a one-track mind at the moment. He attempted to assure Reed by reminding her of the very real and important evidence he wanted her to see. However, Reed's fear notwithstanding, she was not naive and knew that Jack was not just here to sit down and show her some photos.

"Don't do this. You don't want to do this," Reed begged.

Jack looked at him. "Take her to the storeroom."

"No, I'm not going anywhere." She broke from his grip just as he grabbed her. "Please, you cannot do this."

Jack's voice softened. "The evidence I gave you doesn't tell me how Walsh was involved." He motioned with his head. "He will."

Tony grabbed her again, a little rougher this time, and managed to get her out of the room, her pleas echoing off the concrete. He admittedly felt quite sorry for her. He always felt this way when he saw civilians react to the bloodshed and deeply rotten things people like him and Jack had long since become desensitised to. He gave her the tablet from his bag, encouraging her to play the SIM card while he gave more context from his research with Jack. Her face fell with every additional detail in the video. So many people from so many governments were complicit in this conspiracy. Although she was a journalist, and he had some resentment towards them based on the leeches that had practically stalked Michelle during his treason trial, she seemed to be the kind that deeply valued honesty, transparency, and her duty to inform the public, which explained why Jack was placing so much faith in her.

However, her focus was soon lost when a guttural scream came from the other room, followed by Jack's less coherent yelling. It went on and on, becoming increasingly loud and making Tony remember just how good Jack was at inflicting pain without killing someone.

Reed bravely rose from her seat, coming to where he stood sentry by the exit. "Please, you've got to stop him. Please."

Tony grabbed her by the bicep. "He needs answers, and he's going to get them," he said simply.

"I can use this." She held up the tablet. "There's enough. I don't need any more." Her voice raced with every word. "Tell him I don't need any more."

"You're not going anywhere," Tony informed her softly but sternly.

Her shoulders slumped in resignation, and she returned to her seat. Tokarev's howls did not get any quieter, but it did sound like he was choking on his own blood, so perhaps this would be over soon. Tony figured a change of topic might make this slightly more bearable for her.

"It's funny: when I tried to do this to the man who killed my wife, Jack stopped me." Tony rolled up his sleeve to reveal the scar on his hand from where Jack had shot him.

"Then… then why are you letting him do this?" she asked.

He smirked. "To be honest, I'm not sure. We've both suffered a lot and dealt with our losses in different ways. I never thought we'd see eye-to-eye again, but when he came to me today, ready to throw his life away... somehow I couldn't refuse.."

Jack then yelled out his name, and an eerie silence followed. Tokarev must be dead.

Tony told Reed to stay put, and she seemed to not want to argue with him. When he opened the door, he coughed at the stench of blood, gas and burning flesh. Jack was breathing heavily. In his blood-stained fingertips was a SIM card.

"Grab his cell phone," Jack asked coldly, wiping the card with a towel.

He looked at the table of Tokarev's things before identifying the phone, coming back over, taking the card from Jack and inserting it.

"There has to be evidence on here. He tried to swallow it," Jack explained.

Tony navigated to the recent calls list. None of the phone numbers were attributed to contacts, unsurprisingly. He dialled the first number, biting the inside of his lip with every subsequent ring. But just as he went to hang up and go for the next number, his blood ran cold as the voicemail message played: "You've reached the number of President Charles Logan. We can't take your call. Leave your number. We'll get back to you as soon as we can."