Hunter, Page 4

  Episode 3

  Purpose

  Miles woke up. He found himself sitting on a metal chair. Still groggy, he looked around his unfamiliar surroundings. It was a fairly large room of unpainted brick. There were boxes next to him, each with a wire sticking out of them. Miles tried to trace where each wire went to, but couldn't without getting up. More interestingly, to his other side was a simple table that had a lone speaker.

  Despite being knocked out by some unknown person and put into a strange room, Miles found himself unrestrained. Straight forward was a clearly labeled exit. He decided to get up, intending to exit the otherwise abandoned building. That was when the speaker boomed out, "I suggest you stay in your seat, Miles." The voice had a very dark, electronic tone to it. One could tell that it was being heavily modified.

  Miles cooperated, not knowing whether this person had a camera or other way to tell what he was doing. He guessed that if that was the case, the remote captor could also hear him, "Where..." he first tried to ask, then reformulated the question, "Why I am here?"

  The silence for the few long seconds told him that either his captor didn't hear or didn't care to answer the question. Then the captor started his monologue, "The seat you are on is on the detonator of the box next to you."

  He was on a bomb. His heart raced as he shifted himself more firmly onto the seat. Miles held stiff, making sure that he did nothing to disrupt the thing that could end his life.

  "You are at the abandoned building on Earlander Street," the captor continued, "I left everything in your pocket, including your phone. I'm not after money, and that's all I'll say to my motive."

  Miles carefully reached into his pocket, finding his cell phone just where it always had been. Taking it out, he flipped it open to dial 911.

  "Before you call anyone," the captor interrupted, "You will want to know one thing. In another room in that building, there are two people in a similar situation. They too, are next to bombs."

  Miles dropped his phone at the revelation. Realizing he dropped his best way out, he didn't dare move to get it. With not only him, but two other people at his mercy, Miles listened intensely to the captors next words.

  "Their fate is up to you. If you stay seated, they will die. Get up, you will die but they will live. It is your choice. You have twenty seconds."

  With that final instruction, the speaker went silent.

  Miles sat, fear gripping him. He knew he should get up, that he should sacrifice himself for two strangers. But that fear gripped him. It held him to the seat. His body defied what Miles wanted.

  With all his strength, he shifted his body. He rocked, twisted and tried as much as possible. But there was that fear. It was the thing that kept him in that seat.

  Without warning, a huge boom came from behind him. He knew, that he failed those two people; saving himself. Miles fell out of the seat, the lack of danger allowing him the freedom he needed only a second ago.

  His face was right in front of the phone. He saw it, but couldn't even think of using it to call for help. Only one thing came to his mind: that he killed those people. He didn't lay those bombs or kidnap those two, but he unintentionally made his choice.

  Jeffrey Hunter opened the door, seeing Miles on the floor. The lying man might not have been crying, but every other symptom showed that he was in intense grief.

  Running to him, Jeff checked him, making sure that Miles was unharmed. With that done, Jeff then looked around to see if there was anyone else. He saw that in the back was a door on the floor. It had been blown down from the explosion that got his attention. Smoke billowed out, obscuring everything.

  "Damn, can't see anything through that fire," he said to himself.

  Jeff looked down to Miles, seeing that he was in a lot of emotional pain. But he needed to ask the question anyway, "Was there anyone in there?"

  Miles whispered, "No....no...."

  Outside, two hours later, lights flashed around the building. Police vehicles and fire trucks filled the area. For everyone in the vicinity, the crisis was over and shifted toward finding out who had caused it. Beyond the yellow police tape was two large vans. Television reporters huddled inside them.

  There was one lone ambulance vehicle. The two medics were gone, but Miles remained seated in the open back. He was silent and deep in a thought no one dared to ask about. Even Jeff didn't dare to ask, despite being in a similar situation.

  Jeff stood next to a tall police officer. They both looked at Miles, expressing pity towards him while holding a sense of analysis towards the situation.

  "Two people, just like our vic. said," Captain Hanover said to Jeff, confirming that two bodies were recovered. Jeff knew that the coroner had drove up on the other side of the building and retrieved the bodies from there.

  Jeff continued the analytical route, "Did you find where the voice-box was transmitting from?"

  "Unfortunately, from inside the building. I doubt we find much there." The Captain sighed, "We probably won't be able to do much until all our vics are identified."

  The term "vic" hit Jeff. That was the most important detail in this case for Jeff: that two people had died. He was wandering around the area when he heard the explosion that killed them. It wasn't his business before, but instinct took over and now he was involved.

  "I can inform the relatives," he suggested to Hanover, "It'll save you time..."

  The captain shook his head negative, "No, I couldn't even let one of my officers do that. I know you want to help, but I need to take responsibility. Including the least appealing duties."

  A subtle screech of a car halted their conversation. Both turned to find a woman getting out of a minivan just parked outside the police tape. The headlights were still on, obscuring her exact details. Even then, Jeff could still tell that she had the look of worry all over her face.

  The headlights shut off as Hanover started to walk over. Jeff was intending to follow, to see who this woman was. Hanover gave a hand signal for him to stay put.

  Without a word from Hanover, the woman said to him, "Miles Minerva called me, only said to pick him up. What happened?"

  Hanover bluntly explained, "He was kidnapped about four hours ago. He was held there until thirty minutes ago, when several explosives were set off. Two others died in the explosion."

  It was something she didn't expect at all. She held her hands up in complete shock, hiding her face. Once it sank in, she asked, "Is he alright?"

  "Miles is fine, just shaken up. If you want, you can escort him home."

  Hanover raised the tape to let the woman through. She ducked down below the tape before jogging to the ambulance that Miles sat in.

  Jeff looked at the two. They were silent, Miles sitting in his depressed state. The woman was next to him, holding him with as much comfort as she could give. She didn't have any words to say. Jeff could tell that she wanted to say something.

  "At least he has someone to talk to," Jeff said openly, though Hanover caught it.

  "I hope so," he replied.

  An officer approached Hanover, holding a very business-like mannerism. "Sir, we found the room the suspect was hiding in," he said, "It was within the building, two floors up."

  "Alright," Hanover nodded, "I'll head on up there. And if they need it, make sure our vic. gets home alright."

  "Yes, sir," the officer acknowledged.

  Jeff followed Hanover into the building. He gave one last glimpse back at the grieving Miles and the woman who cared for him.

  The room which the investigating officers had directed them to was rather nondescript. Only brick showed on the walls and one table sitting on the far side of the room. On it was a small black box.

  Jeff walked right up to the table, with Hanover hovering nearby. Jeff picked up the small, black box. He carefully inspecting it to see if there was anything.

  "You shouldn't be handling anything," Hanover commented, "Especially bare-handed."

  "He left this," Jeff replied, "I d
oubt there's any prints on here anyway."

  Jeff looked for a second more, discovering only what the object was. "This is just a transmission box, where he would hook up a microphone." As evidence, Jeff pointed out a audio port in one side of the box.

  "Do you think it would have any recordings on it?" Hanover asked.

  Jeff shook his head, "No. There would be a separate device for that." Jeff pointed to another, smaller, port on the device as evidence for that conclusion. "I'm not even sure why he would leave this," he confessed.

  "Maybe he was in a hurry," Hanover guessed.

  Jeff clearly didn't believe that scenario, "No, it would have been quicker to just pull the plug from the wall and take the whole thing."

  "He left it on purpose," Hanover concluded, then continued, "As though it's a warning."

  "That's doesn't sound good," Jeff commented.

  "It's the worst case, and that's the one I have to run with right now."

  Hanover unclipped his radio. Speaking into it, he asked, "Barrios, any word on if this guy got his mug on camera?"

  "Sorry, sir," The officer replied over the radio, "We couldn't find any cameras either at the abduction point or near the building. Not a single traffic or security cam."

  "Alright, keep at it and keep me posted," Hanover said, ending the short conversation.

  Jeff set the device back down and began walking out of the room.

  "Where are you going?" Hanover asked, still standing next to the table.

  "To the coroner's office. Even if they're random abductions of convenience, it would help a lot to see what these people had in common."

  "OK. We'll keep combing over this place. He didn't leave without a trace; we'll find it."

  The office side of the morgue was grey but clean. Double doors were to one side, where a body would be rolled in from. The public entrance was a door a few feet from it. Jeff entered from there and took in all the impersonal color around it. Along one wall was a series of cabinets with a desk parallel to them just out of the main pathway.

  The opposite wall had a semi-clear door that opened. It revealed a woman who wore a red apron. One could tell it was red due to her work and not by design. She removed her bloodied gloves, tossing them into the bin next to her before approaching Jeff.

  "Jessica Alters," she introduced herself, as though she had expected Jeff.

  Jeff tepidly returned the handshake, not knowing what she had touched. "Jeffrey Hunter," he replied in kind before going straight to business, "Do you have anything?"

  Jessica nodded, "Sure do. If you want to come back here..." Gesturing back to the room that she just exited, Jeff followed.

  Inside there were two bodies lying on tables: a man and a woman. Both were severely burned and had dried blood. They were next to the lines of storage units. Computers next to them showed the official entries for each of them.

  Jessica traveled between the two, "First off, both were right next to some pretty powerful explosives. It came from behind and they were probably unconscious when it went off."

  "Nothing too surprising thus far," Jeff commented.

  "When it comes to C.O.D., it was as you would expect: severe trauma from the explosives. The only reason I surmised that they were unconscious was because they were restrained, but there was no signs of struggle around those restraints."

  "How about their abduction?"

  Jessica pointed to a small hole in the man's neck, "Mostly likely some sedative injected from a dart. Toxicology will be a while to confirm exactly what it was."

  Jeff sighed, moving onto a different subject, "Any idea on the identities of these two?"

  Jessica moved to the computer next to the woman, taking a quick peak at it for reference."Annabelle Farris. She turned up on missing persons report by her husband. According to the report, she went missing after work; apparently she always goes home without fail."

  "So she likely was abducted at or near her work."

  "That would be the logical conclusion."

  Jeff's eyes laid upon the body of Annabelle. She didn't look anywhere near like Kara, but the way she had died hit Jeff hard.

  Jessica noticed his glare. "Anything you want to talk about?"

  Jeff shook his head in denial, "No, not really. Where was she working at?"

  Jessica once again took a quick glance at the computer, checking her answer. "She was a paralegal at the Regal Business Complex."

  "I'll head on over there, see if anyone has anymore information."

  "I'll tell Captain Hanover."

  Jeff held a hand up in refusal, "No, I'll call him on my way. You can see what else you can do."

  Jessica, while not upbeat, gave a tone of encouragement. It was something she always gave. "All right. Good luck."

  Jeff nodded, showing that he acknowledged her goodbye. He left the room, headed towards the Annabelle's work.

  Cars were passing by Jeff and the parking lot manager. The two wandered around the thinly lit downtown parking garage. On this floor, the amount of cars parked were still few in number, although some were attempting to find spots near the two.

  "She always parked at this lane," the manager said, showing that he was very aware of his customers.

  Jeff saw that there were no cars in the lane at that time, showing that she was abducted elsewhere. "And she left at her normal time."

  "As always. She was a punctual person, always came in and out exactly the same time."

  "Did she leave with anyone?"

  "Not directly. A couple of other employees from the same firm left shortly after, maybe just a minute or so."

  Jeff looked around, and saw the next lane over there was one car that stood alone. "Can you tell me who?"

  The manager expressed worry, not knowing exactly what the question pertained. "Are they suspects?"

  "Maybe victims, I have to look at either possibility."

  The manager was worried over the issue, "Pat Intellus was one of the people that walked out shortly after."

  Jeff walked up to the car. He looked inside, trying to see if there was anything that could help confirm the identify its owner. Taking out the phone he received from Hanover, Jeff rang up Jessica.

  "Jessica, this is Jeff Hunter."

  Jessica answered, "Hey, what do you need?"

  "I have this car here, license plate w-p-i-1-4-3."

  She was silent for a second to move to her computer. "Sure, any reason why you need it?"

  "I just need to confirm something, mostly the owner."

  Jessica got the results, and was shocked by what came up. "Well, you found our other vic. Pat Intellus owned the car."

  Jeff displayed disappointment. "Thanks," he kindly said before hanging up. He turned back toward the manager. "I'm sorry to say this, but Pat Intellus was also our second victim."

  The manager nearly fell over. He showed signs that he was confused, as though he didn't know what to do. He pointed back towards his office, saying, "I'm....going to...."

  Jeff approached him, trying to be reassuring. "If you need some time before answering more questions, just call Captain Hanover at the station."

  "Yeah. Can you give my condolences to his sister. Whenever I talked with him, he spoke highly of her."

  Jeff solemnly nodded, "Yeah, I will."

  Jeff stepped up on the patio, blinded only for a short second with morning sun rising. He double-checked the address that was on his notepad. "This is her place," he said to himself. It was said with sorrow in his voice, knowing exactly what he was getting into.

  Ringing the doorbell, he heard footsteps come close. The door opened, but the person who answered was not who he expected: It was Miles. He still wore the same clothes as last night. The shirt was still disheveled from the experience it went through. He showed some signs of recovery, but still held onto fresh memories.

  "Oh, it's you...," He groggily said, showing recognition of Jeff, "I never got the chance to thank you."

  "It was never needed. Are...
you busy?" Jeff wasn't sure if he should talk to him at that time or not. Miles gestured inside, inviting him into the two-story home.

  Turning to the right, the living room was dark with the windows shaded. The couch showed the pillows were tumbled and smashed; where Miles had slept that night. The nearby table also had some papers shifted and knocked over.

  Miles wondered next to the couch, choosing to remain standing. Jeff, looking around the very decorated room, found a series of pictures set on a mantle. The largest one showed a woman alongside Miles; a portrait taken at a fair. There was one smaller portrait next to it. That picture was of the same person who had died last night.

  Jeff took his mind off the photo. He set his sights at the couch. "This was where you slept for the night?"

  "Well...I couldn't go back to my apartment, especially since I'm late on my payment. My old firm hadn't sent a check yet."

  "I presume you were a lawyer?"

  Miles nodded, "Yeah. Had a good record too." The last part was a passing comment, something that Jeff ignored.

  "Where did you work?"

  Miles took this question very differently. There was a sense that this wasn't a casual conversation anymore. "Does this has to do with....last night?"

  Jeff made sure that his voice had a serious tone; not to carry any positive tone or have any hint of the news that was to come. "It does," he replied.

  Miles answered plainly, "The legal department at the Regal Business Complex. Why?"

  At the corner of Jeff's eye, a woman was leaning down the stairs. The loose-haired woman that was about the same age as Miles had listened in on the conversation. Stepping down the stairs and approaching Miles, she looked right at Jeff. "I have to ask the same thing, Mr. Hunter: why?"

  He didn't know how she got his name, but that didn't matter. Jeff knew who she was: Carla Intellus. Tensing up, Jeff prepared to give the two the bad news. "You both may want to sit down," he suggested.

  Miles moved next to her, holding her shoulders. The way Jeff put it, they both knew bad news was coming. Carla shook her head in refusal, "No! I've heard too much of that before! Just say it right now!"

  Jeff took a deep breath. He began an explanation; delaying the inevitable. "I asked because the woman in that explosion worked there as well. And as I later found out, so was the man."

  The two were shocked at the news, Carla gasping. But the shock wasn't personal, as though they heard of a terrible incident on the news. It still hurt. They both knew people from there. But without a name, it was a faraway tragedy.

  Miles thought about it a bit more, taking his view of things, "The guy was after me; it wasn't random."

  "I'm thinking that way too," Jeff said, "But that wasn't why I'm here."

  Now the two were on the edge of their metaphorical seat. Jeff was about to say something much worse...and now he couldn't delay it any further. "I...didn't know you were here," he said to Miles, then shifted his attention to Carla, "I was here for Ms. Intellus. Your brother was the other victim. We confirmed it about an hour ago...I'm sorry."

  Carla collapsed into Miles. Tears ran down her face as she tried to smother herself into Miles' shoulder.

  Miles also showed much sorrow in this news, maybe more than her. At that moment he had to be strong, for her. In all the sorrow he may have inadvertently caused her, he had to be strong....

  The blanket swooshed through the air as Jessica removed it from the body of Pat Intellus. Miles looked down at the sight. Although it had been cleaned of much of the grime, it still had many scorch marks and other severe burns. To Miles, it looked peaceful and sad.

  The latter emotion still flowing through Miles as he looked on. He said grimly, "Yeah, that's him."

  "I'm sorry for your loss," she sympathetically said to Miles. It had been something she said many times before and always tried to show sympathy. In this case, which Miles showing much grief in his actions, that aspect was especially important.

  Jeff stood at the doorway. He was letting Miles have his time before intervening.

  Miles still had many questions, some escaped his lips, "I...why him? Why not me?" It was to himself. Intellectually, he knew he wasn't to blame. But some deep part in him said that Pat - as well as Annabelle - would be alive if he did something different.

  Jeff hear that in his voice and had to refute, "It wasn't you."

  Miles, still staring at the body of Pat. "I know...but...I was given the choice. Yet...I couldn't get up. He was kind; still had much to look forward to. If I knew..."

  "Don't," Jeff sharply interjected.

  Miles turned to Jeff, outraged with the response. "Don't what! Don't blame myself!" He marched right up to Jeff. "How can you say something like that, when I am still have some responsibility: the choice I made cost him his life!"

  Jeff stood vigilant, "My wife died, for the very technology I made. I can't ask that question, just as you shouldn't."

  Miles was taken aback from this revelation, "Your wife...?"

  "Yes, Kara," Jeff confessed. "She was killed by the very man I am after."

  Miles walked away as though confused as what to do.

  Jennifer watched as though a observer watching a play. She had seen much, arguments between officers and a victim's family were not entirely unusual. But an officer generally kept things from being personal; rarely revealing something about themselves. In that respect, Jeffrey Hunter was different.

  Miles turned toward Jeff, asking, "Then why are you helping me? Shouldn't you chase after your killer?"

  "It takes time, to find him," Jeff explained in a simple manner. "In the mean-while, I can not ignore your killer."

  The law offices were high up in the office complex. The wooden walls showed the high-end design. For all intents and purposes, the office appeared to Jeff as a cliche, something born out of a movie. There was even a fish tank to the left side of the waiting area.

  On the other side of the reception desk was two desks, empty sparing the computers. Jeff saw the one afar was occupied by a police officer. Hanover waited near the other computer. He approached the captain.

  "I got your call. Did you get a warrant for all the office's files?"

  "We have them for Minerva's files," Hanover replied.

  "So you can look through all his files?" Jeff asked, not knowing what the laws would entail. However, he very much implied that they were going through confidential files.

  "No.....Don't you watch television at all?"

  "Let's say not really."

  Hanover gave a strange look, "OK. We only have the names in the files. Everyone he's work with...and against."

  "Oh. And I'm guessing you're running a background check on every one of them."

  Hanover nodded. He gestured toward the opposite desk, "I went through half his files already. The lieutenant is almost finished himself. So far, nothing substantial. Three hits and all have confirmed alibis."

  The Captain looked over his shoulder to the lieutenant to see if he would be done soon. It looked like the officer was still searching the files.

  Turning back, Hanover took a whispering but very serious tone in his voice, "I thought I told you not to inform any relatives on the murders."

  Jeff replied in kind, "You don't need to take all of the responsibility. I only did what was necessary."

  "Necessary? How can that be necessary? Those people don't need just anyone to give them that kind of news!"

  "That kind of news! There is no good way to say that your wife was killed."

  It seemed like a Freudian slip. Hanover took this information, thinking that Jeff may not be qualified to help him in this investigation. "Wife? You meant brother, the Intellus kid."

  "No. I meant my wife," It was also a blunt way of Jeff to say go no further down that line of conversation. He had his reasons for doing this, and that should be the end of it. What Jeff wanted was to get back to the case at hand.

  Luckily for him, the lieutenant yelled out, "Sir, I'm done here. Nothing loo
ks unusual."

  Hanover sighed, knowing that conversation had ended. He turned toward the lieutenant, "Who's your best bet then?"

  The lieutenant thought a quick second before responding, "Well, he's a state over, so I didn't think he would be a likely suspect. But he does have plenty of motive, having lost a criminal case with two of our victims helping in defense."

  "I guess we'll go down and see if he has an alibi. 'Rather follow something than put this on the back-burner."

  Jeff spoke up, "I'd rather stay here and ask around."

  Hanover looked at him, thinking it wasn't the best course of actions. But he was not in the mood to countermand him, "OK...I'll just warn you we already asked around."

  "Well, I'd rather hear things for myself," Jeff said, continuing the confrontational tone.

  Captain Hanover walked out of the office and towards the elevators, with the lieutenant in tow.

  Jeff looked around, finding only the secretary behind her desk. He walked over and asked her, "Do you know anyone that has worked with Miles on any cases?"

  She answered formally, "That would be Leroy Parkson. He's in his office right now. Two doors to the left."

  She pointed down the hallway, which looked as sterile as the main room. Jeff nodded while saying, "Thanks."

  Walking down the hall, it was brightly lit with all sorts of pictures and awards posted on the walls. The names on each door was gold plated. It wasn't difficult to find Leroy's office.

  The door was mostly open, tilted so Jeff would easily see into it. Opening it further, Jeff found the lawyer at his desk. He was reading and shuffling through papers. The door creaked, alerting Leroy of the investigator's presence.

  "Come in," he pleasantly invited. "I presume you're with the police."

  Jeff walked in right to the desk, sitting in the chair. "More or less," he accurately answered, "I would like to ask some questions for myself."

  "Anything. If it'll help get this guy, I will be an open book."

  Jeff was very direct, "Did Miles have any problems with any clients."

  Leroy laughed. "That could be said of anyone. Trust me when I say that its worse here than at a customer service phone center. If you lose a case, especially when defending, clients will blame you."

  "Is that why Miles left?"

  Leroy shook his head, "Nah. If you couldn't take that, you wouldn't last two months, much less several years. Plus, we made sure every legal measure is in place to make sure we're safe against those bad apples," he turned grim, "Except in this case."

  "As such, you wouldn't know anyone that would carry a grudge for several years."

  "I wish I could help at that. After several insanity cases, I've found it might not take much to set some people off. But usually, those people are impulsive, not calculating."

  Jeff thought for a second. He then decided to change the topic, if only slightly. "How about any of your other staff?"

  Leroy was shocked at the accusation, "No! No, not at all. I'm not just saying that because they're my friends and coworkers. We all have worked together at some point or another. If you can't work with someone else, you can't really work in a competitive field like ours."

  "Now you say this is 'competitive.' How about any other lawyers outside this office?"

  "I can't say, but doubtful. Everyone else has to play the same game."

  Jeff quickly thought about it. Then one idea came, "What about those who don't have to play by the same rules?"

  "Being completely solo? Happens so often, but they always either drop out because they have no support or get absorbed by one firm or another."

  That gave Jeff an idea. He got up, without facing Leroy he said to him, "Thank you."

  The coroner's office was quiet until Jeff marched in. He had purpose and wasn't going to deviate from it. Going back behind the desk, he went straight to the cabinets along the wall. One after another he opened them, looking top to bottom for something very important.

  Jessica walked in and immediately ditched her bloodied gloves. She had heard all the noise, curious as to what it was. She watched as Jeff opened yet another cabinet.

  "Jeffrey!" she yelled, "What...are you looking for?"

  Still searching, he answered, "I need some old phone books; the police station didn't have any."

  Without a word, she walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. It was a silent indication that she knew exactly where it was. As he stopped looking, Jessica moved to the farthest cabinet. She revealed the books he was looking for.

  "Which do you need?" she asked, presenting them to him.

  "Anything older than two years."

  She leaned down to grab one from the stack. Leaning back up, she turned to hand it over to Jeff."Can I ask why you need them?"

  Jeff took the book, then took a seat from the side and set it next to her desk. While scrolling through the pages, he replied, "In speaking with one of the lawyers, I got an idea. What if it was another lawyer; one that got burned by something that Miles did?"

  Jessica asked the logical question, "There's hundreds of lawyers, especially in a city like this. That..."

  Jeff cut her off by responding, "I already asked that. The only lawyers, or former lawyers, that would be burned enough would be those who worked alone; who didn't know the entire social environment."

  Jessica went though his line of thought, "So you're looking for someone who worked alone and worked against our victim at one point or another?"

  "And likely is not in business anymore."

  She turned around and snagged another phone book. Sitting at her own chair, she joined Jeff in the search. "I'd better help, this will take a while."

  Jeff looked at her, reciprocating the gesture, "I appreciate it."

  The two were still there several hours later. Jessica was looking uncomfortable, having to sit and search through the phone books and other files throughout the time. She pushed herself herself away from the desk. Her legs especially were in desperate need for a break.

  Walking about, she stretched her muscles much in the same way an athlete would. Then a question about Jeff came to her, one that would be personal and she didn't know how he would respond. But at that moment, her need to ask was greater than the fear of pushing him away.

  "You said that you lost your wife."

  Jeff felt saddened by the comment, but answered anyway. "Yeah, less than two weeks ago."

  "How you lose her?"

  Jeff stopped looking through the phone book completely. "A car bomb; intended for me."

  "Intended for you? Why?"

  Jeff thought for a second on whether to do something or not. After deciding, he looked at Jessica, "Can you keep this in confidence?"

  Showing trust in her manner, she replied, "Sure. Is this some deep dark secret?"

  "Not really, just one that would make me look crazy." He let the silence sink in, expecting some kind of response. Without one, he continued, "I was a scientist; theoretical physics. Specifically worked on various dimensional theories."

  She was confused, "What is that?"

  "It's hard to explain in laymen terms. There's..." he rethought how exactly to explain the concept, "In my case, it was in exploring alternate realities: where everything's the same except some change. In more dramatic examples, it would be like if World War Two was lost. But I've found that kind of example are rare; most of the changes are very hard to locate, maybe even mundane."

  Jessica showed much interest in the subject, "So...how does this research come into play?"

  "I made a vehicle to travel between those worlds. Actually two were made - just one was made as a backup. Karns, the person that killed my wife, stole one and tried to kill me to prevent anyone from following him."

  "So, why aren't you following him right now?"

  Jeff shook his head, "Wish it was that easy. I can track him, but it can take several hours or days, especially if he hops across multiple worlds."

  "In the mean time you help people out
?" she rhetorically asked

  But for Jeff, it wasn't as rhetorical as he would like, "I...don't know. I was just a block away from the explosion. Just like the last one..."

  He was namelessly referring to Karl Finard, likely still in a coma. It was that failure that forced Jeff to halt the conversation, "We better get back to work."

  Jessica saw the sore spot she had hit. Quietly she walked back to her seat and did just as Jeff suggested.

  They had gone through the same routine for the next fifteen minutes: find a name and search the database for any connection to Miles.

  Then Jeff thought of something, "Let's try something else. Get out last year's book."

  She went to the same cabinet and handed the newer book to him. While he looked, she gave her own confession, "My father worked at this very morgue, doing the same work that I do. He was killed on duty.

  "I didn't really look up to him; he was always working. Never did he see his own family. Yet...here I am. Strange how losing loved ones makes us, just naturally help those in need."

  Jeff did not respond; did not appear to have heard. He just kept looking.

  Then he found a name, "Here's someone I didn't see before. Look up Geroldo Ballard."

  Jessica rotated her seat to face the computer. Entering the name for a search, she found an entry. "He had a business license for only six months; doesn't give an exact date."

  "Was he in a case against Miles?"

  Jessica clicked several times, looking through the file. It didn't take long before she found the section she needed. "Yes," she answered, "But Ballard won that case. However...he went up against that same firm two months later and lost. That was after Miles left. In fact, that case was the last one that Miles worked on."

  Jeff pondered for a bit, then deciding, "Give me an address."

  Jessica looked at Jeff, "You suspect something?"

  "Yeah."

  Jessica looked it up on the computer. "Fifty-four-forty-eight Ellison Avenue. It's in an old neighborhood."

  Jeff got up and to the door. He was about to leave when he turned around to say, "Thanks, Jessica. You are probably right, that we are destined to help people."

  Jeff opened the door to old, run-down home. From the outside, it looked small. Inside, that view was not betrayed. The single-floor, two room home was dark. Lights were out and the only window shaded. The door was barely a measure for security. As Jeff released the door handle, it fell off.

  Being dark, Jeff had to use his glasses to look around. Its night vision revealed little in the cluttered living room. He saw a cot at the other side of the room, obvious that was where Ballard had slept.

  Moving forward, Jeff kept scanning to see if there was anything that appeared important. He saw only one more room. Looking in, he saw a toilet.

  But this wasn't a regular bathroom. A table was mounted above it. Moving further in, he saw that papers were stacked on the floor and all along the wall. Even though he couldn't read a thing, it was apparent this was the room that Ballard kept his obsession.

  Above his head, he found the light. Pulling the metal string flashed the dim light on. Turning off his scan-glasses, Jeff saw who Ballard was really after.

  On each of the news-clips, each of the document, it was Pat Intellus that was highlighted or circled. His name came up time and again. No one could go into this room and not see it.

  "It was Pat he was after, not Miles...." Jeff said the revelation to himself.

  Miles sat alone. His home was dark - reflecting how alone he was. It was a three room apartment in the city that was not far from the old office where he used to work. Jeff opened the curtain, seeing cars drive by a few floors below.

  Having left the curtain partially open, Jeff stood in a shining light compared to the dark couch in which Miles resided. He stared forward, looking at the large television that reflected his image.

  "I...don't understand," Miles said, "He was the one that this...Geroldo wanted?

  "Yes, that's what we found," Jeff matter-of-factually stated. "Thus far, we don't know why, which is why I'm here. I need to know about Pat."

  "I can tell you he didn't come from the best place. He was a drug addict. Carla tried to hide it, even though she tried to help."

  Jeff was curious, "Then how did he get into law?"

  "Me and Carla were on a date one night," he reflected, "It was the first time I met him in person. He just came up and said, "I want to become a lawyer, I want to help people." I knew from there he wanted to move on with his life. After going through detox, I put him through six months of law school; just to put him through the basics. Then I had him hired as a paralegal; training him with real-world scenarios."

  "What got him off the drugs and into this new career?"

  Miles shook his head negative, "Never really asked. He never said; and if I tried to bring it up he immediately shook it off."

  Jeff took this in, then moved on to the second phase of questioning. "Now, about Ballard. I saw that your last case was with him specifically."

  "Yeah. He was starting out; I could tell that from the first sight of him. He was...unorthodox to say the least. Brilliant, yet unorthodox. Nearly got himself held in contempt a couple of times; but always got out of that the very next sentence he spoke."

  "You speak highly of him?"

  Miles thought about it, then answered, "In court, yes. Out of court I didn't speak to him a single word. For that case, he refused any negotiation what-so-ever. It was highly unusual for any lawyer to do."

  "Why is that?"

  That question got to the core of Miles' old interest, "For one, settling out of court is almost standard practice. It's too expensive for both parties to reach a final verdict. But even if you aren't intending on settling, it becomes a game; seeing what the opponent will do. I guess....he just saw that even approaching the idea of settling was a form of giving up."

  "Explains why he was a defense lawyer. Was that case the reason you left the firm?"

  That got Miles to move the other direction, remembering something unpleasant, "I guess so. I used to enjoy being a lawyer; playing a game. But that case...it turned too serious too quickly."

  Miles laughed at his own comment, "Yeah, I can tell how that sounds, but in too many ways that what a debate felt like. But there...it was like someone brought a gun to a fencing match. What was graceful sparing now was serious and threatening."

  Jeff nodded, confirming that he understood everything that Miles had just said. "Thank you. If you need me, call Jessica at the Coroners office; she'll have my number."

  Jeff left the bright light into the shadows and walked toward the doorway. It had been cracked open, left as it was when Miles let Jeff in.

  Without turning to face Jeff, Miles halted him, "Are you going to ask Carla those same questions?"

  Jeff also did not turn to face Miles, "Should I?"

  "No. She's taken too much already. I...can't let her feel more pain than she already has."

  "Is that why you're here in the dark?"

  Miles bluntly answered, "Yes."

  Jeff turned to see Miles, but he did not reciprocate. "I might not know everything, but I think she would want you around. If you can't do that, try to find some way to let yourself."

  Jeff left the house, letting Miles sit in the dark.

  Jeff arrived at the floor of the law office, turning to the clear doors that were to his immediate left. It was now dark, with all the lights shut down sparing just a few. Those few did a lot, making everything visible, though the color was much different than his last visit.

  Leroy hovered behind the glass and let Jeff inside. "Here's the files you requested," he said, clearly holding a thick bundle of papers. The several folders within the larger binder held all the papers associated with the lawsuit that Ballard last faced against the firm.

  Taking the large folder, Jeff felt the heft of it. Rather than opening it, he said to Leroy, "Thanks. Anything you can tell me about it?"

  Ler
oy shrugged, "I wasn't really involved all that much. Pat was the lead researcher on it, while Anna spoke in court."

  Jeff said, mostly to himself, "Anna was involved, but why was Pat the target?"

  Leroy responded to the thought, "I don't know. Pat was in the courtroom, as all lead researchers are. But he never spoke a word to the judge or jury."

  Jeff looked back up to Leroy, "But he was seen talking to Anna?"

  "It would've been inevitable."

  Jeff began looking to the side, mostly out of a habit of visually exploring an environment. "I wonder if..."

  He saw something. His glasses picked up a signal; another person was in the office.

  Alert, Jeff asked the lawyer, "Is there anyone else in here?"

  Leroy turned cautious and worried with the change in tone from Jeff. "No. I only stayed to let the secretary out."

  Jeff pulled out his gun, handing back the folder to Leroy. "Stay here," he ordered, "If you hear anything, go down the stairs and call the police. Don't even look back for me."

  Leroy nodded in confirmation. Showing much caution, he walked to the elevator. Though he tried to keep his calm, the nervousness still permeated outward.

  Jeff held his gun downward, ready to fire if need be. Moving slowly, he approached the signal down the hallway. He passed by all the closed doors. Jeff could tell that there was a hallway in the back.

  It was toward the end that he could see that there was plenty of cabinets and drawers lined along the wall. It appeared that although small, this was the area that the entire firm kept their files and other office utilities. Shifting to the right side, Jeff could see that the intruder had a drawer wide open. Fingers were still rifling through the papers.

  Jeff took another slow step, then a very audible click sounded. Jeff looked down to to see a small length of fishing wire wrapped around his ankle. He didn't even feel it. Then an explosion of smoke covered the hallway.

  Jeff coughed as it unexpectedly filled his lungs. Exerting the last of the smoke that he could exhaust, Jeff looked back up. The intruder had flew through some of the back-ways, places only a few staff were supposed to be in. Jeff dashed in pursuit, into a bright service hall.

  There was still some workers that dodged to the side as Jeff ran by. Swinging around a corner, Jeff maneuvered around carts filled with dishes and other furniture. It was a winding path with some of the equipment placed randomly between the left and right sides of the hall.

  Jeff rotated around another corner, this one to several elevators. One had just closed - but he knew that it was a decoy. He kept enough track of the signal to see that the intruder took the emergency exit only a few feet away. Jeff slammed that door open, seeing his opponent with his own eyes.

  It was a skinny man, someone who had seen much better days in terms of health. The intruder had three floors lead on Jeff, going down the stairs. Luckily, Jeff was only a couple of floors below the top of this stairway.

  He flicked his left wrist upward toward the ceiling. Bending his wrist, he flung the grappling beam to the ceiling. Leaping as straight down as possible, Jeff fell down the stairway. As soon as he was level with the intruder, he slowed his acceleration with the grappling beam. Aiming his gun, he yelled at Ballard to stop.

  The intruder did just that. They looked at each other face to face. Jeff confirmed that it was Ballard. The villain was more sullen now than the newspaper photos portrayed.

  At first, Ballard looked interested, looking up and down to inspect the grappling beam. Then, he smiled. In his hand was on a detonation switch; he clicked.

  An explosion collapsed the ceiling above. Debris immediately fell onto top level set of stairs. Jeff quickly sunk away from Ballard, who calmly turned around to the nearest exit.

  The beam dissipated, having lost its connection to a solid object. Jeff quickly reacted, seeing the floor come near much too quickly. He flung it to the side, not really aiming at anything in particular. It hit a wall. Jeff swung toward the same wall several floors below. As the beam crossed the stairs, it dissipated from the direct connection. Jeff fell hard onto the corner between the floor and wall.

  He yelled out in pain, then rolled himself onto his knees. Looking up, he held his glasses to locate Ballard. There was too many dots, too many people between him and Ballard to identify. Some were running away from stairway and the explosion. A few were running to it, curious to what happened and see if anyone was hurt.

  Either way, Jeff lost his man. "Damn."

  Jeff walked out of the towering building. There was a large party that was also in the building, one that was for a fancy dance with everyone wearing designer dress. The police had arrived, along with firefighters and television media.

  Captain Hanover walked right over to Jeff. He showed less concern and more frustration. "What happened, Hunter!" he demanded. His tone was very direct, with a hint of anger. For him, this was a disaster despite no one being hurt.

  "Ballard was in there, looking for something," Jeff explained, trying to remain neutral in tone. "I suspect it was the file I that I got."

  "And that?" He referred to the explosion, implying what Jeff had indirectly cause it.

  "Ballard snuck in, but as you see came prepared if he needed to flee."

  That didn't satisfy Hanover at all. "This isn't good, Hunter. If this guy was considered a terrorist before, he's now going to scare a lot more people. Especially those people we need to get information from."

  Jeff saw the reporters, some had cameras that aimed directly at the chaos that Jeff was in the middle of. "You want to give those reporters something, then say he isn't a danger to the public."

  Hanover looked at him curiously, "Why do you say that?"

  "He could have killed me with that explosion, but didn't. Nor did he try to kill me with a trap he set. I think he's only going to kill who he considers his targets. The rest is just to distract us; just like he did with his stated M.O."

  Hanover shook his head, frustrated. "I'm not sure if that's much to give the press; but hopefully it'll be something." His tone turned much more serious, "Now, stay out of trouble. We don't need anything else like this again."

  That warning, bordering on threat, was a statement for Jeff to stay out of the case. Jeff knew that working with Hanover from this point on was out of the question. It didn't matter what he said or how much evidence was presented, Hanover wouldn't care.

  Hanover marched toward the flashing cameras, intending to give a short statement. Jeff walked the opponent direction, intending to go elsewhere to find out where Ballard went. Then he heard a yell, "Mr. Hunter!"

  It was Leroy, bumping and navigating out of the midst of other people. He ran right to Jeff. The folder was still in the lawyer's hands. It was previously neat and looked untouched; now some papers had stuck out.

  "I went through some of the summaries, seeing if I can add anything for you," Leroy explained, "It looks like it was another case involving fraud."

  "Does this firm have a lot of those?" Jeff asked, emphasizing Miles' last case which also involved fraud.

  "The term is rather broad; especially when dealing with large corporations. Here, the defendant, Debra Vallor, was a part of a subsidiary company. Some of the charges were very serious among several other, more minor things."

  "I'm going to take a guess he lost."

  Leroy opened the folder, toward the back. While reading, he said, "Actually, no. It went to trial, but saw no verdict came down.....Here it is. It said that the defendant died. Our client dropped the case after that; apparently for public relations."

  Jeff was shocked about the death, "Really, does it say how she died?"

  "The news-clip we have here says she committed suicide."

  While this was a break in the case, it wasn't a happy one. They both knew the weight of the tragedy.

  "Good work," Jeff solemnly said, before quietly leaving.

  Jessica was leaving the office, walking outside to where a lone car was sitting below a street
light. A song randomly burst from her hip. She kept walking when she removed her phone from her pocket. She quickly looked at the number, recognizing it before answering. "Hey, Jeff. What can I do for you?"

  Jeff stood in a alleyway. The crowd and flashing lights of the scene he just left was in the distance. Most of the alley was dark, silent, and lonely. That was precisely why Jeff was there; to be away from all the people and noise.

  "Can you access any evidence on someone; a Debra Vallor?" Jeff asked over the phone.

  Jessica arrived at her car, hovering around it without opening the door while she spoke with Jeff. "I wish I could. I only have access to case files and any evidence found directly on the bodies. Even then, all that goes to storage after a few weeks or when a case closes. Why don't you have Captain Hanover help you."

  Jeff spoke frankly, "I don't think I'm on his good side at this moment. Isn't there anything you can look up on your computer?"

  She sighed, "Not in this case. I remember that name and that was closed quite a while ago. My computers only have access to open cases that I am involved in."

  "And you weren't involved in it."

  She shook her head, as though Jeff was right there. "Sorry. You have to get someone at the station to open those up for you."

  Jeff was disappointed, and didn't hide it, "Thanks anyway. Good night."

  "Night," she said, much more emphatic than Jeff's polite goodbye.

  She hung up the phone. She quickly switched it with her keys to open her car.

  The rest of Ballard's home reflected the darkness of night. Only shapes could be seen in the darkness of the home, with much more hiding in that very same darkness.

  There was only one bright room in the small house: the converted bathroom that was the focus of Ballards insanity. Jeff stood in the middle, all the news-clips and papers still hung on the walls. The police had only removed the papers that were loose on the floor.

  Jeff stood staring at the clips. He was trying to figure out, "Why was Pat his focus?"

  He had spent at least an hour there, wondering that very question. He had scanned the various clips, seeing all the highlights and other notes that were put onto them. Jeff tried to figure out a pattern. He was trying to get into the mind of his killer.

  Jeff knew that despite having killed his "target," Ballard didn't flee; just the opposite. Using his all the detective skills he had to use for every failed experiment he participated in, Jeff tried to find out Ballard's motive.

  He looked at one clip. It was of Ballard stating that his client was completely innocent. It wasn't a large clip; as though the news didn't care much about the subject. But the picture that carried with it showed Ballard alongside his client. The quote in it was very emotional, very much showing that he cared for Debra.

  Jeff removed it, intending on looking at it closer. The article may have seemed minor, just as much as the many other clips. But sometimes it's those details that are the most important. He read it, just as he read several other similar ones.

  Then he noticed part of Ballard's phrase in the article, "I wholly believe that my sister is completely innocent, that it is the plaintiff that is committing fraud!"

  Jeff spoke to himself about the revelation, "It was his sister! That explains why he cares so much about this one case. But still....why Pat?"

  He outright dropped the clip. Jeff continued to look around, this time towards a set of notes. He saw some circled and highlighted notes. These were very much shown to be important, so well highlighted that one could skip them as though they were a decoy.

  Right in the middle of a note, was circled in red, "E-mail claiming cover up"

  Jeff moved down, to one printed document, torn partial showing . He was reading it, then figured things out.

  "Pat won the case, and Ballard knew it."

  Jeff drove in front of Carla's house. It was still the dead of night. But Jeff knew the immediacy of what he was after - presuming it was there. The car stopped right in front of the house, Jeff swiftly getting out without any care to even close the car door.

  Just barely at the porch stairs, he saw the door open, purposely left ajar. It was announcement that someone had been, or was, in there.

  Jeff pulled out his gun, then used his glasses to scan the house. His glasses showed that two people were standing on the second floor; very close to each other.

  Jeff opened the door as quietly as possible. He kept his gun aiming forward, mostly to make sure no surprises would catch him off-guard. Walking straight forward, he climbed the stairs. His focus stayed on the target through the wall. He got to the top, aiming his body to his right. They were both in the bedroom.

  But then, the bedroom door opened. Jeff stopped. Carla was being held with a gun to her head. She took two staggered steps forward, revealing her captor to be Ballard.

  "Hello, Mr. Hunter."

  Jeff kept his gun trained on Ballard.. It was a stand-off; one that Ballard had planned. Why was something Jeff wanted to know. However, that wasn't his primary concern at that moment,

  "Carla, are you..."

  Ballard interrupted him, "She won't be saying much. I told her that if she speaks a word...." The implication was clear.

  "So you were waiting for me."

  Ballard tilted his head to the side, "Not you, specifically. Actually, anyone who had reason to visit Ms. Intellus, especially at this time of night. You see, I'm looking for something."

  Jeff knew. It was the same thing he was after. "A copy of the incriminating e-mail."

  Ballard laughed, "You're just like him; that Patrick Intellus. Smart, but very misguided."

  "Misguided as in doing his job?"

  "Exactly! I found all too easily, lawyers only care about winning; not about the truth."

  "What Pat found was the truth, Ballard."

  Jeff took his left hand off the gun for a quick second, shifting his glasses.

  "No! They only created their truth!" Ballard yelled out, proclaiming what he believed. "The one that killed my sister. That's why I have to find it, to make sure their lies don't become the truth."

  He said it not as though he knew it was fact. His mind refused to believe that his sister did anything wrong.

  "That's why you killed him and Annabelle Faris, to cover that up?" Jeff rhetorically asked.

  Another laugh came from Ballard, one that showed Jeff made a mistake. "No. I wanted them both to know what I have gone through; what they caused. In truth, I didn't expect that man to stay in his seat. That wasn't what I saw in him."

  "So this is to punish all who done your sister wrong. To make sure her "good" name isn't tarnished."

  "And you aren't doing the same?"

  "I don't care what your sister has or has not done," Jeff proclaimed for himself, "What I do care about is what you are doing in her name."

  Jeff had located what he wanted. He quickly shot to the side into the wall. Steam shot out of the bullet-hole, hitting Ballard directly in the face. The villain released Carla to cover his severely burned face. Carla dove forward, intending to take cover behind Jeff.

  Now staggering back, Ballard saw that his gun was now gone; fallen from his searing pain. Jeff was now pointing his gun at him.

  "It's over, Ballard."

  Without warning, a boom sounded below Jeff and Carla, collapsing the floor below. They fell into the garage and on top the car. After recovering, he looked over Carla.

  "You alright?" he asked, concerned that she was hurt.

  Carla nodded, "Yes."

  Jeff looked up to see Ballard gone. Rolling off the car, Jeff ran to the garage door. Holding the latch, he pulled the garage door up. He ran outside to look for Ballard. He didn't see anyone or anything.

  Deciding to search around the house, Jeff circled to the open fence. He found Ballard leaping from a tree that hung near a window. Pursuing him, Jeff ran to the back fence and tried to grasp the top. He tried to quickly pull himself up. But he was slow and had little experience in climbing fe
nces.

  As he hauled himself onto the top of the fence, Jeff found it was too late. A van had started and was driving away.

  The red car drove with much intent across from Carla's home. It stopped just out of the police tape that had barricaded the house. Police officers of various rank toured through the nooks and crannies, searching for any piece of evidence. Jeff stood outside watching them. He had been forbidden from doing much else.

  The lights from the vehicle shut off; daylight just dim enough to require them for driving. From out of the car came Miles, running right toward Jeff. There was a loose sense of deja-vu for the dimensional traveler. This time, it was Miles who came to comfort his girlfriend.

  With little hesitation Miles asked, "Where's Carla?"

  "She's inside, and is fine," he responded, trying to comfort the very worried man. "Shaken up, but otherwise fine."

  Miles ran to the front door. He maneuvered around police officers that were scouting and protecting the area. Jeff more calmly followed. The officers didn't have to move for Jeff after being almost shoved over by Miles.

  As soon as Jeff got inside, he saw Miles and Carla embracing on the couch. "I was stupid," Miles proclaimed to Carla. "I kept myself away, and left you alone..."

  Carla cut him off. She was trying to stop that line from being spoken and imprinted into reality. "I'm fine, Miles."

  Jeff took a few steps into the living room. The noise got the couple's attention.

  "Thank you," Miles said to Jeff. "If it was anyone else..."

  Jeff cut him off just the same as Carla, "You can thank me later, but right now I need to know something. Ballard was looking for a copy of an e-mail; one that would be presented to court. Do you have an idea where it would be?"

  Miles turned serious, knowing the answer, "There's a storage facility. We kept all unused evidence in there. If there's a copy of that e-mail, it is in there."

  "Good. Where is it? I need to get there..."

  It was Miles this time that interrupted him. "You mean we. I'm coming along; it'll be faster that way."

  Jeff warned, "Ballard may be there. He went through Anna's home right after he left here."

  Miles stood up, remained firm in his decision. "I'm not going to stand back; not after this."

  Jeff nodded in approval, "Alright. Just stay behind me."

  He lead Miles toward the door. Before they could exit, Carla yelled, "Miles!"

  They both stopped. Miles turned to her, expecting fear and concern. Instead, what he saw on her face was pride; that he found something he didn't have before.

  She smiled, "My brother would be proud."

  Miles was confused. He didn't get the entire reference. "Why do you say that?"

  "He wanted to keep this secret. Pat wanted no pity from anyone," she explained, "One day he found a body. He didn't know who it was; didn't care. Next to it was a child; a crying child. Pat didn't go near, just watched until the police finally came.

  "At that time, he only cared about himself; but never saw what pain others felt, until that day. He knew that it was those drugs that gave him pleasure delivered pain to others.

  "That's why he wanted to go into law: to help people."

  Miles took this to heart. He never knew any of this; but knew that no pity would have come if Pat told him this anyway. Now, he saw the look on Carla's face and wanted that to stay.

  "Then I'll carry that obligation for him," Miles proclaimed, for himself and Pat.

  The car stopped near the black metal gate. While large, this storage facility looked like it was just a standard one that anyone could use. The buildings were a single story tall and looked very plain to the naked eye. The gate was not even as tall as the buildings; only a few feet above a person's head. Anyone could tell that one could jump it if necessary.

  Jeff got out of the drivers side with Miles following suit from the passenger’s seat. Having stopped at the gate, Miles asked, "Why aren't we driving? It's on the other side of the property."

  Jeff thought more strategically, "This guy has a perchance to use explosives. We better move cautiously."

  Jeff stood at the gate while Miles put in the code in the nearby terminal. The gate barely opened when Jeff squeezed through. Removing his pistol, Jeff placed his hands on his glasses; scanning for anything suspicious.

  "Where's your locker?" Jeff asked, going into a cautious combat mode.

  Miles walked through the half-open gate, staying behind Jeff. "It's straight back, last building to the right," he pointed out the building with his finger. "The building and the room each have a different code." A thought came to Miles, "Do you think he would just try to blow himself in?"

  Jeff moved slowly, looking around for any surprises. "It's a possibility," he said, not knowing the full answer. He wasn't sure if Ballard would destroy the entire room outright or be more systematic in his destruction.

  They continued closer, moving too almost too slow for any comfort. Miles was tense, being almost helpless to anything that would happen.

  Then Jeff saw a blip in the distance; not quite to their building but close. Jeff zoomed in, seeing Ballard. He was holding a container. It was aimed it at Jeff.

  "Get down!"

  Jeff pulled Miles down, just in time to avoid a makeshift missile. Behind them it was like a aerial mortar hit the gate.

  While remaining prone, Jeff returned fire. Although his shots were all wide, they still forced Ballard into cover.

  Jeff looked right at Miles. "I want you to go around and see if you can get inside. I'll keep him busy. If we don't get him here, you'll still be able to lure him out with that document."

  Miles nodded in affirmation, "Right. I'll go left and around back."

  "OK," Jeff readied himself, "Go!"

  Jeff leapt up, rushing toward Ballard. Behind him, Miles ran to the left and out of fire.

  Ballard turned to launch another volley, but Jeff fired in response. In dodging the bullets, Ballard dropped the makeshift missile. Jeff stopped. He holding to the side of the building next to him; not sure if the missile was aimed his direction or not.

  The missile launched toward the other side. The explosion hit wall with a large boom. With threat neutralized, Jeff continued forward. He kept scanning the ground to make sure no traps were placed.

  He saw Ballard run across to the next lane over, as he casually dropped a ball behind him. Jeff kicked the fallen weapon in the middle of his pursuit. Ballard looked back just as the ball was about to drop near him. He dove behind an angled wall as it exploded.

  Jeff stood, gun aimed at Ballard's general direction. "It's too late, Ballard! The police know everything!"

  Ballard didn't look back, "About what? That I killed those two? I don't care about that!"

  Jeff moved toward the small alcove, gun trained. As he got view of him, the villain quickly turned to the wall. From the ground, a small ball flashed bright.

  Jeff was caught blinded for a quick second. That was enough for Ballard, who knocked Jeff down with a swift punch.

  As he recovered, he looked up to find Ballard towering over him. Jeff's chest was compressed by his enemy's foot.

  "I fight for my sister's memory," Ballard proclaimed, then asked his opponent, "What about you, Mr. Hunter? What do you fight for?"

  "I fight for myself!"

  Ballard found this response curious. This was enough for Jeff to put down his card.

  He launched the grappling beam out and latched onto the building. Using his main hand, he grabbed onto the very foot that Ballard was pressing him with. Jeff quickly and forcefully retracted the beam, pulling him to the building and Ballard onto the ground.

  Jeff rolled over onto his knees. He looked up at Ballard, who was recovering from his own fall. Then he looked around for his gun, which was against the building across the pavement. Jeff quickly decided between the gun or Ballard. He chose the gun.

  Jeff got up and ran to the gun, snagging it as quickly as he could. He looked back up to see B
allard running to the last building in the line: the building that Miles said was their building.

  There was a device already latched onto door. Ballard put one more thing onto it; finishing what he was doing before Jeff dropped by. With that, he took a wired trigger, standing back to blow the lock off the door.

  Ballard opened the door, to find Miles. He was holding a red-taped bat, swinging it right onto Ballards face. It knocked him down onto the ground. This time, it was Ballard who saw Jeff tower over him.

  "You fight for yourself as well," Jeff said to the defeated man, "The difference between you and me, I realized that everyone else feels the same pain I do. I don't want anyone else, especially those I love, to feel that pain. You, on the other hand, caused it. That's why I fight: for the things I can not ignore anymore."