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Jaws practically belonging to the floor, Josh and Half stand in complete surprise, their feet unable to move as their brains struggle to keep up. Laying his mask upon one of the countless tables lining the warehouse, Alec strides his way towards Josh and Half, admitting that he’s pretty much played puppet master over everything that’s happened since well before the Pipeline even took the turn that it had.
“It wasn’t exactly easy to precisely pinpoint exactly how everything was going to happen” Alec admits, “but known how unpredictable the two of you are, I decided to use that to my advantage.” Pulling Half’s chair from his working station towards the two frozen subjects of this grand scheme he’s hatched up, Alec takes a seat and rests his arm across a random bench, beginning to tell the tale of every step his masterplan had taken. “I guess I should begin with where I brought Half into the mix” Alec starts, watching the larger of the two men before him begin to lose his balance, forcing himself to take a seat before any further explanation can be made. “You see, when I told you to get out of the Pipeline if you had a weak stomach, I was trying to convince you to get out while you could” Alec explains, “when you chose to stay, there was no way I, alone, could get you out.” “I knew exactly what the Pipeline was turning into, so I laid the groundwork for this alter-ego of mine…” Alec continues, Josh beginning to lean against the solders bench, “...And thus, ‘the Guardian Angel’ was born.” Explaining how he took inspiration from a random Pipeline executive that left right before the practice took a turn, Alec runs down the process of laying out little hints pointing towards him being the man beneath the mask. “I knew I wasn’t on board with anything the process was becoming, but I knew I couldn’t do anything looking from the outside in” Alec persists, “so I start setting the pieces to cover my ass when shit started coming unglued.” Recalling the more recent turn of the Pipeline’s approach to business, Alec explains that he became the ‘weak link’ once his first wife passed away, and he essentially became a liability to the process itself. “They were worried I’d lose my way, and I knew that even if they wouldn’t admit it” Alec continues, “but you don’t just get to retire from the Pipeline and go about the rest of your days.” Once the original man he pinned the Guardian to passed away, Alec began realizing exactly what steps he’d take if the time to make his exit from the system itself was necessary, which is when Josh took that knife to Warren Duane’s throat. “I knew exactly who you were targeting long before I set up the three of us to meet in that bar” Alec moves along, “and I knew it would give you the opportunity you needed to, well, do your thing.” Detailing how the chess board had finally been set up the way he liked it, Alec states that the only thing left to do was start playing. “I made it a point to be ‘taken care of’ with you on my tail” Alec furthers, “any information you’d get after that would be information I wanted you to have.” “Before all of that, I had begun plotting how to get Half involved, and when I realized that his loyalty remained with the Pipeline over anything else…” Alec continues, “...I knew what piece I wanted him to represent.” Walking over to Half’s table, Alec reaches past the man, who stares at his arm reach forward and take an erasable marker, leaving Alec to return to his seat after pulling a whiteboard over. “The pawns are everyone I’ve managed to quietly gather on the side opposing the Pipeline” Alec explains, his detailed description of this game being visualized by lines drawn across words. “Half is the rook, he is responsible for protecting the queen” Alec continues, his eyes lifting towards Josh, who remains patiently awaiting the conclusion of this analogy. “Eliza is the queen, she was the most difficult piece to pull in” Alec continues, “she protects…” With a pause, Alec continues writing what he has yet to verbally explain, eventually putting the cap back on the marker and using it as a pointer, directing its head towards Josh and finishing, “...the king.” Placing the writing tool on the holder, Alec explains that he had already been telling Josh what his role in this entire operation has been since day one, “you’re the king here… Every part of this plan succeeding, or failing, depends on you.” Tying up the remaining loose ends, Alec points out knowing Half’s grudge against “Angel” would lead to distrust being sewn, which would lead to Josh wanting to know more from Half in secret, which would lead to this uncovering. “The flash drive, the photos, and yes, Buffalo… have all been connected” Alec concludes, “and since I knew you were eventually going to uncover everything, I figured I’d make sure it was at least on my own terms.” Hands folded in his lap, Alec leans against the table with his sights firmly laid upon the pair, finishing his presentation with “any questions?” Arms crossed, his back leaning against the table much like Alec, Josh’s chin remains high, his eyes kept upon Alec as his tongue pushes the left of his lip outwards. “Yeah” Josh replies, a cartoonish nod putting a smirk on Alec’s face as the man leaves the floor open to interpretation, “I’ve got a few” = Joshua Lane is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = Busy traffic surrounding her at every angle, Eliza dons a pair of smoky sunglasses, a large black coat with a hoodie covering the top of her head. The cold temperature meaning nothing to her, Eliza simply appreciates the feeling of fresh air meeting the little skin she lets show. The freedom of being able to walk anything other than the floors of her safehouse giving her the ability to care less of where she’s going or where it may be, just being able to leave serving as enough of a trophy. Greeted by a man sporting a beige winter coat and a dark green beanie, Eliza nods, returning the favor with her hands tucked in her pockets, and her glasses fogged by her breath. “Pipedream” Eliza mutters, the few seconds between their interaction filled with silence until those words are uttered, the response of the man residing in an intense glare towards her. “Follow me, stay a few steps behind until we reach it” the man replies, standing from his spot and walking off into the crowd, Eliza waiting a few seconds before doing the same. Her shoulders brushing into others going about their day, Eliza remains fixated on the green beanie a few paces ahead. Apologies when her shoulder-based interactions get a little more physical at the hands on the space afforded to her not even being a thought in her head. Within minutes, the dark green beanie enters an unmarked, rundown building, disappearing from the populated streets, her cue having been offered. Seconds later, she meets the same destination, pulling the door open and taking a few steps inside, the sight of a large staircase and two spacious rooms to either side of her all that’s left. “I would’ve picked the right” Eliza proclaims, not needing to choose before turning around to see the man hiding himself in the corner. “Why is that?” the gentleman asks, Eliza smirking whilst reminding him that she’s not some clueless blonde that likes to roll the dice. “It’s analytical” the woman responds, “the staircase is too obvious and someone unaware of the place would expect the right.” Eyes slightened, the man asks why the right would be her choice despite it being expected. “If they expect the right, they’ll go left, so we stay on the right anyway” Eliza replies, the man applauding her thought process. “The Guardian send you?” the man asks, Eliza’s hands finally leaving her pockets as she reminds him that she wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t. Removing his own hands, the man holds one of them outwards, offering a handshake and introducing himself. “I’m Trey” the man replies, Eliza returning the favor and offering her name as well. “So you know what our job is?” the man asks, the woman returning her hands to her pockets, “I know bits and pieces” she responds. “So you know we’re after those cronies that snatched up your boy?” Trey asks, Eliza’s head shrugging. “I know we’re after them” the woman replies, her head remaining tilted, “I haven’t been told what we get to do with them, yet.” One hand raised with a finger pulling her into following him, Trey leads Eliza into the right wing of the building, the answers she finds herself after partially being contained within its walls. | “And you never told Jenn?” Josh asks, his questions still being asked, the conversation perhaps not even being halfway through before Half cuts in. “Why are we talking about his rebound when we just found out he used to be married!?” the man asks, Josh telling him that Jenn still had the right to know. “Well I never told her” Alec replies, his conscience supporting the guilt of his actions despite his knowledge understanding the reason behind it, “she just couldn’t find out.” “So what happens now?” Josh asks, his hand rubbing the side of his face as the many truths finding their way to the surface become overwhelming, “we just keep pretending we didn’t bury an empty casket in an empty grave?” His head bobbing, Alec complies with the suggestion, “yes, that is exactly what we do.” Laughing to ease the tension building up, Josh shakes his head, his hands extended as he ponders what else could be said, or what task lies ahead. “I’ve got Eliza meeting one of my best” Alec replies, “if Half is the rook, think of this guy as the bishop.” Hands thrown about the air, Josh tells Alec that he’s not familiar with chess terminology. Stepping in, Half makes it his responsibility to break it down for the man, “you’re the king, Eliza’s the queen, after that is me, this guy’s the bishop” Half explains, “all that’s left are the knight and the pawns.” “Precisely!” Alec responds, telling Josh that every piece on the board is in play to protect him, as long as the king isn’t put in an inescapable corner, the game is not over. Collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands, Josh asks how they can get anywhere now. “Your king has already almost fucking bit it” Josh replies, “and since the king and queen are already on the kill list, who are we supposed to depend on to get inside?” Without a word, Alec averts his eyes from Josh to Half, the man whose face already wears the effects of being caught as a traitor to the cause in hot water again before the burner can get heated up. “So the pictures were for nothing?” Half asks, Alec’s finger raised into the air, admitting that their purpose hasn’t been fully thought out, but there is a blueprint for their worth in the scheme overall. “Never, and always remember this” Alec replies, “never will there be a time where information doesn’t have value.” Trying his best to keep himself contained, his anger and confusion turning into a potential chemical explosion waiting to happen, Josh asks specifically for the value in this information. “You got information on this guy” Alec replies, the photograph of Holland being held for the pair to see, the curiosity behind its value remaining for the moment. “Josh is already on the ‘inside’, for lack of a better term, with the precinct” the man continues, “because of that, we know what they want because we know what that old lawyer guy has.” Eyebrows raising, Josh begins to find his way back onto the right track, “identification” the man returns, the smile on Alec’s face carrying pride. “Everything those fingers, eyeballs and teeth are worth is carried in this paper, too” Alec replies, “so we have two weights for the price of one.” “Either a trading piece for the Pipeline…” Half begins, Josh interrupting him, finishing the second option himself, “or a way to pin the crimes on Holland.” Nodding, Alec tells the pair that the pieces are falling into place on the other side of the board as well, “your name gets cleared” Alec responds, his finger pointed toward Josh, “or we don’t have to get Half on the inside at all.” His eyes being shared between Josh and Half, Alec admits that this is the part of the game where he holds no influence. “It’s time to make a decision” Alec responds, “spare you” he says, pointing to Josh, “or spare you” he concludes, pointing towards Half. “I’ve already decided” Josh replies, his eyes looking up towards the man with his arms crossed. “So have I” Half responds, Alec remaining in the middle, hoping the board he set up wasn’t done so on unstable ground. | “How much are you willing to bet he’s not leading us down the wrong path?” Holiday asks, the warm coffee in his hand keeping his body from shivering as he and Arcnote return to their car. “I’m not sure” the woman replies, her thumb pressing down on the button to unlock the four doors of her temporary patrol vehicle. “I’ll say this much” she continues, Holiday’s interest continuing with it, “just because he’s not guilty of this, doesn’t mean he’s cleared of everything.” Climbing into their seats, the pair begin discussing the potential that all of this backfires in the type of way that ends careers. “The precinct is already paying very close attention to their steps” Holiday calls to mind, “all we have to do is slip up once and everything comes crashing down.” Her beverage pressed to her lips, Arcnote quietly wonders to herself if they happen to be missing anything, leaving lapses in the story go undiscovered. “Have we connected any of this to Warren Duane, yet?” Arcnote asks, the question coming from left field, but not throwing Holiday for too much of a surprise. “Only Cerine, Lane and the Pipeline” the man returns, “other than the basic connections, there’s no specifics in there.” Nodding, Arcnote suddenly stops, her head freezing itself in place before asking Holiday what they know about the Cerine case. With a puff of air, Holiday runs down the basics. “He was killed in the street, a car was identified, no suspect was found, and that was all” Holiday replies, the curiosity scrawled across Arcnote’s face as more questions enter her head. “How was he killed?” Arcnote proceeds, Holiday responding with the near-clarity of the man having been stabbed. Nodding, Arcnote turns towards Holiday, the man smiling as he believes her to have a new question for him to unfold. “Did we ever find the murder weapon?” Arcnote asks, her question having been obvious, but still taking Holiday by surprise, his eyebrows lowering as he wonders whether or not it was. “I don’t believe it was” Holiday replies, the amazement on his face giving Arcnote the next steps to take. “Cerine was involved in the Pipeline, right?” Arcnote follows, Holiday confirming her suspicions. “Get us back to the station” Arcnote returns, her face carrying the expression of someone completely certain in where to go from there, “I want a log of every car Devine ever drove in.” | Returning to the bus stop spot after the sun has gone down, Trey takes a seat beside a man dressed from head to toe in black workout attire, a gym bag beside him. “Clear me” Trey whispers, the man’s head turning in his direction, the earphone pulled from the right side of his head as he asks Trey to repeat himself. “I said ‘clear me’” Trey replies, the man’s head looking around for anyone else. “You’re not who I’m looking for, man” the gym-dweller replies, “I don’t know what you’re looking for.” Insisting that he does, Trey orders him to hand the keys over. “Boss couldn’t get out of work in time” Trey continues, “he told me don’t trust new faces, so he gave me the work.” Returning his earbud, the man reaches for his bag and assures him that there is no shared work. “We don’t trade with unfamiliar faces, man” the guy replies, telling him to let his boss know. Without hesitation, Trey yanks the wire out of his ear again, telling him that he will do no such thing. “You can tell my boss yourself, but I’m not going back empty handed” Trey replies, the man responding by pulling a gun from his bag and holding it between Trey’s eyes. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re bossing around, but it sure ain’t gonna be me!” the man shouts, Trey’s hands casually lifted in the air. Within seconds after that declaration, a sharp blade swings down and separates the hand from the person, the fingers still clenching the trigger as the hand drops to the ground. Attempting to howl, the casually-dressed man has his mouth covered with a rag by the no longer held-at-gunpoint Trey, Eliza assisting with the tying of a band around the man’s arm. Shuffling through his pockets, Eliza retrieves a key, telling Trey that she’ll meet him back at the warehouse. Aside from a few cars and taxis navigating the New York street system like any other night, Eliza traverses the mostly empty streets before arriving at a storage facility just within the downtown portion of New York City. With a passcode, a key and a specific storage unit number to work with, Eliza easily makes her way inside, the only task left to endure being to locate the specific unit itself. Her phone buzzing, Eliza answers to the sound of Josh’s voice, choosing to conceal the Guardian’s identity until a more reasonable time. “I was told the hard part would be done by now” Josh states the woman on the other end suggesting the difficult part was actually locating the exact unit. When questioned, Eliza explains the key that she got from his jacket leads to the storage facility, which is news to all involved on the other end of the phone line. “Eliza, this is Guardian” the voice on the other line informs, Alec having taken the phone from Josh upon this revelation. “You weren’t supposed to be a key, there wasn’t supposed to be a key” the man explains, “you should have pulled a flash drive off of him.” Confused, Eliza breaks down exactly what happened once again, the key to any storage unit not having been remotely close to what they expected to come across. “Why would he have a key to a storage unit?” Josh asks, looking around the room at the concerned Half and the suddenly shocked Alec. With a return of his glance towards Alec, Josh watches the man lock eyes with him back, the unspoken realization beginning to dawn upon all three inhabitants of the room at once. “Eliza, don’t open that garage!” Josh shouts, the woman stopping in the middle of the facility upon hearing that command. When backed by the Guardian, Eliza questions what the issue is, only to hear the Guardian demand she leave the key at the base of the door and get out of the space immediately. Hanging up the phone, the Guardian pulls free one of his plentiful burners and dials the police, anonymously reporting a questionable storage unit they happened to find a key to, suspecting there to be something criminal contained within it. Hanging up, the Guardian tells Josh and Half that the decision needs to be made quicker than expected, the idea of what most likely resides behind the doors of that storage unit changing the game completely. “This is about to be information to much more than just this, much smaller circle of people” Alec admits, the future of this cause potentially no longer being within their hands, or within their control. Still stood in the middle of the facility, Eliza begins returning to her search for the unit, finally stumbling across the correct section, eventually coming to face her intended destination. Looking towards the floor, Eliza holds the key in her hand, knowing what the Guardian’s instructions were, but her natural curiosity beginning to drive her motivations. The decision literally resting in her hands, Eliza begins lifting the piece of metal towards the lock until remembering the test the Guardian had put her through. The ability to differentiate between what she should do and what she wants to do driving her motivations, Eliza does as instructed, leaving the key for whomever may come and making her escape. Climbing into her car, Eliza pulls out of the lot and drives off, soon watching flashing lights in her rear-view mirror flood the facility. “What do you wanna do?” Alec asks, both hands pressed against the table between Josh and Half, the proof of Holland’s identity, thus record, sitting between them. “Let him have it” Josh replies, Alec’s eyebrows lifting as Josh explains his reasoning. “He’s already lost half the skin on his face, he’s more than earned it” Josh says, looking up to the man with his arms still crossed, “he doesn’t need to die for the cause, too.” Reaching down, Half picks up the record, the effects it causes only reaching the limits it allows. In the hands of both, the record serves no leverage to the Pipeline, thus being as valuable as simply giving it to the police. In the hands of neither, the record remains invisible, lost to the investigation as a ghost. “No” Half replies, his hand moving away from his body, stretching the paper out to the man across him. “Half, without this, you’re still running the risk of being caught from the inside” Josh explains, telling him that the document is the only way to guarantee his survival. “That’s not my role in all of this” Half replies, Josh reluctantly taking the paper as the man leans forward, his hands placed upon the table. “I have to protect the king” Half replies, Josh immediately glancing at Alec, who shrugs, the decision not one that he had any influence over. “I’ve made my decision” Half assures, the final shred of loyalty to the Pipeline having died long ago, only now is the fear of those repercussions dying with it. “Just give me some time to set up the rest of the pieces on the other side” Half requests, his readiness to proceed with climbing to the highest position of power giving Alec the final cog in the machine left to get moving again. | “There’s going to be something” Arcnote replies, Holiday and herself scanning the parking lot, the license plates of each patrol car Devine used in the months leading to his death on a paper in Arcnote’s hands. “There’s no reason to go through all this trouble if there wasn’t a reason” Arcnote continues, “it’s a new question, there’s nothing wrong with trying to figure out if its got an answer.” Unlocking another car, Holiday and Arcnote climb in on separate sides, anything within reach being prodded with and searched by the pair. “The last thing we need to do is get sloppy” Arcnote replies, “we don’t wanna get used to finding nothing and overlook any-” she continues, stopping in her place for a moment as she looks forward. With a glove on his hand, Holiday holds a knife by the end of it’s handle, the weapon simply stashed in the door’s side compartment. “Where did you find that?” Arcnote asks, the simplicity of it being replied with by Holiday in disappointment, the failure to locate a murder weapon on their own grounds immeasurably heart-breaking. | “Eventful night?” Nora calls, her seat beside Josh identical to the one earlier that morning, the same bench and all beside the Hudson bay. “You should know what the answer to that is” Josh replies, his annoyed expression usually taken upon these visits replaced by one of a man without a care of the world around him, simply wishing to enjoy the sights of the waterfront. The pair sitting beside each other, not a hateful look on either face, presents the picture of a couple enjoying the beauty of life, disturbing when paired with the note of half of said picture no longer having theirs. “I’m never going to find closure” Josh admits, his words coming unprovoked, but the admittance not coming from out of the blue waters in front of them. “I know” Nora replies, her confession coming with a sigh, her stare remaining on the waters as Josh’s redirects to her. “You’ll never forgive yourself for what happened” Nora replies, her words carrying heavy sorrow, “that’s not why you imagine me, though.” His hand reaching out, it finds comfort on her thigh, the woman turning towards him and leading her eyes away, her sights setting on the left of the man, the one side he prefers not to picture. -> “It doesn’t have to go like this!” Nora cries, watching Josh pull his gun up from his side and steady his hand. Continuing to plead, Nora’s hopes fall on deaf ears as a shot fires, the burst of light from the gun reflecting in the water as another bullet fires. Startled, Josh’s hand shakes, the trigger held between the skin of his right index finger clattering as he slightly jolts it from one side to the other. Her mouth agape, Nora leans forward, her feet still stretched to the ground as her eyes plead unspoken hopes to Josh. Her words coming across his hushed puffs, Nora’s left foot steps forward, her right remaining tailed behind as her right hand moves behind her back. “Josh…” Nora whimpers, her body weight thrusting itself forward until she collapses into Josh’s arms, the gun in his hand squeezing through the space between her arm and the left side of her body. His chin resting on her shoulder, Josh notices the body behind her struggling to keep its arm up, the life not fully drained from its body. With one shot, Josh drains the final few drops of fight it had within it, the gun collapsing with the hand that holds it. Throwing his gun to the side, Josh turns Nora over, his hands pressing against the wound in the center of her back as her hands lose the grip they hold his shirt within. “Don’t go like this, Nora” Josh pleads, “don’t leave me, please!” her continues, the tears in his eyes being held off by the fruitless efforts to keep the fight within her alive. Within seconds, the final ounce she has takes a bow, exiting the stage, leaving her body to go limp and he fingers to fall from his shirt collar. The woman cradled in his arms, Josh’s words fail to make any coherent sense, the brain not fully comprehending what just occurred. <- “You didn’t pull the trigger, but you might as well have” Nora replies, her hand reaching out to pull his face back, her eyes losing themselves in his and vice-versa. “I was too sloppy” Josh replies, “if I covered my tracks well enough, you’d still be here.” Her lips puckering, Nora nods, admitting the truth behind that mindset. “You want me to forgive you, but I can’t” Nora replies, her eyes beginning to tear, “because the truth is there’s nothing to forgive.” His head hung, Josh is encouraged by the figmentation to keep his chin lifted, her finger propping it up. “You’ll never be able to find love and continue your work” Nora reminds, making it clear to Josh that her purpose is directly rooted in that truth, “what happened to me was the lesson you needed to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.” Pulling his face away, Josh looks back to the spot to his left, no recollection remaining to be seen. Returning to the right, Nora has vanished, the man left to his own on the bench, the only thing keeping him company being the cold air and the rushing waters. Picking his hands up, Josh looks to them for a moment before cupping them together, letting them fall into his lap as he looks back out into the water, making peace with himself and what has to come next.
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“Any reason you choose to come back here?” Nora asks, her voice lifting the hairs on the back of Josh’s neck as her sits peacefully on the stone bench by the waterside. “Because I knew you’d follow me” Josh replies, his breath whisking in air, swirling around itself. “You can think me into thin air anytime you’d like” Nora replies, her face turned towards the side of Josh’s head, his stare remaining tied to the calming waves crashing into the concrete barrier.
“It’s not as fulfilling if I just get to pull you up on my command” Josh replies, his face remaining firmly against moving in any singular direction. “So why did you pull me here?” Nora asks, sitting on one leg as her left arm drapes over the back of the bench, her shoulder padding her head as her chin rests against it. “I need closure” Josh replies, the woman’s expression remaining unchanged, “I need to stop blaming myself for what happened to you.” To his right, the visualization of the one woman he failed to protect, even in spite of promising her otherwise. To his left, the scene of the events that unfolded, the play-by-play he imagines, with or without the personification of Nora’s ghost. “Why do you get to have closure?” Nora asks, her free fingers walking from Josh’s arm up to his shoulder, “what gives you the right to move on?” “I didn’t kill you” Josh replies, his head finally turning, his eyes locking onto the woman, the worry that this imagery will turn into an abuse of art no longer within him. “I wasn’t the person that pulled you into anything, and I wasn’t the person that pulled the trigger” Josh replies, “I get to move on because I’ve been standing still out of regret.” Her head removing itself from its rest upon her shoulder, Nora’s eyebrows lift, her intention to challenge the beliefs she and Josh share. “If you weren’t responsible, why would you hold yourself to this kind of torment?” Nora asks, her hand removing itself from his shoulder, finding comfort upon his lap. “I could have done things differently, but I didn’t” Josh replies, “you’re responsible for digging too far into everything, but you’d still be here if I was a little more careful!” Confused, Nora asks the man why he believes the answer in finding peace lies within his ties to her. “Because I know I’m holding myself accountable too much” Josh replies, his words holding confidence, “because there’s still no way I could’ve done things differently without hindsight.” Her shoulders shrugging, Nora tells Josh that it would be easy to forgive himself if it were that simple, only for Josh to snipe back with refusal. “I loved you, and now you’re gone” Josh admits, his eyes losing track of time within hers, “and I just didn’t notice something sooner when I should have.” Her hands reaching to each side of his face, Nora gently moves it away, directing it to the other side as his eyes remain towards hers until they fall away. Every inch his head moves, Josh begins to notice a small trail of blood drops grow larger and more plentiful. “I don’t want to” Josh replies, already aware of what his eyes are bound to find, Nora’s insistance of its necessity with her whisper of “you have to” forcing him to accept the inevitable. -> “It doesn’t have to go like this!” Nora cries, watching Josh pull his gun up from his side and steady his hand. Continuing to plead, Nora’s hopes fall on deaf ears as a shot fires, the burst of light from the gun reflecting in the water as another bullet fires. Startled, Josh’s hand shakes, the trigger held between the skin of his right index finger clattering as he slightly jolts it from one side to the other. Her mouth agape, Nora leans forward, her feet still stretched to the ground as her eyes plead unspoken hopes to Josh. Her words coming across his hushed puffs, Nora’s left foot steps forward, her right remaining tailed behind as her right hand moves behind her back. “Josh…” Nora whimpers, her body weight thrusting itself forward until she collapses into Josh’s arms, the gun in his hand squeezing through the space between her arm and the left side of her body. <- “Goodnight” a whisper comes from behind, his memories fading as he feels himself shift back into the moment as if he were falling out of a dream. “Who’s-” Josh begins, his head turning around to see a hand flying towards his face, the impact sending his head flying back, and his body falling off the bench. Pebbles from the ground sticking to the side of his head, Josh plants his hands to the ground and attempts to stand, his efforts quashed by the kicks of three others. Before he can take a second to figure out what’s going on, his attempts to stand turn into attempts to shield himself from attackers, their collective force laying in kicks throughout every area of his body. “Lay them into him well!” the voice of an unfamiliar voice commands, the specifics of it remaining unclear as a number of kicks find their spot in the back of his head and neck. “Now get him up and put him in!” the voice orders, giving the signal for the assailants to lift Josh’s full body weight in such a fashion that none of his extremities remain touching the ground. Within the matter of seconds, Josh goes from shielding his face from an assortment of blows to being thrown with reckless abandon into the cushioned compartment of an unknown vehicle. Further inaudible orders come across as muffles from outside the metal contraption keeping him inside, Josh feels the vehicle suddenly begin forcefully moving in one direction before jolting the opposite way. The events taking such blatant turns, Josh begins punching whatever he can feel within reach, shouting for someone to assist him. Under the cover of the early morning dark, Josh is swept away, his body remaining captured within the cramped confines of a sedan trunk. “Yes, hello?” a voice answers, watching the events unfold beneath the cover of night as the car’s tail light speed off into whatever awaits. “Yes, I’d like to report a crime” the voice replies, the figures on the other end beginning to take down the information as is it afforded to them. “I believe I just witnessed Joshua Lane get kidnapped along the Hudson Bay…” the voice continues, immediately responding to higher levels of concern on the other end. = Joshua Lane is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Greetings” Eliza mutters, her voice depressing as the backdoor swings open, the Guardian walking in with a plastic shopping bag in hand. “You seem glum” the Guardian remarks, his steps taking him into the kitchen, his eyes noticing the woman with her face still stricken towards the television. “You’re a shitty detective if you think I only seem glum” Eliza replies, the Guardian assuring her that it’s within his best interest not to start applying for the precinct’s ‘help wanted’ posters. The woman not laughing, she stands from her seat and walks towards the kitchen, her hands immediately reaching for and sifting through the bag. “How have you held up since the other day?” the Guardian asks, Eliza telling him that she’s been the same as she has been since she was first locked in. “I’m just wasting my days” Eliza replies, her hopes draining as the chore of not putting herself in the ground becomes the main concern. “As I’ve said for the past number of days” the Guardian replies, “figure out a way to prove that you’ve got yourself under control.” Her eyes jolting to the side, Eliza returns to herr composed, dead-eyed mood and informs the Guardian that she’s still figuring out a way to prove that. “Well, I hope for your sake that you figure something out soon” the Guardian remarks, his fingers sifting through the bag as Eliza walks to the sink. After a few moments, the towering figure begins feeling as if something is off, the silence unnatural even with a room only shared by the most lifeless person he can think of. Before long, he begins piecing this together, his head turning at the exact moment that Eliza lunges towards him, the kitchen knife in her hand plunging through the air. With a side-step, the man watches the blade sink into the wooden tabletop, his elbow instinctively finding the soft spot between the woman’s eyes. “This is not how you prove that, Eliza” the figure replies, her hands reaching up to his belt to pull herself up. Eventually, the woman gives in, her hands throwing her weight back, leaving her sprawled out on the tile floor as the Guardian confiscates the blade and returns for his exit. “Get it together, girl” the Guardian remarks, his feet tapping across the floor with each step as the woman follows closely behind. Falling short of her desperate attempt to play catch up, Eliza collapses to the floor, tripping over herself as the Guardian swings the door shut. Immediately, the woman climbs up and begins slamming on the surface, the outline of the Guardian’s figure creating a shadow on the covered window as he walks away. Within seconds, Eliza backs into the door and slides to the floor, her hair falling over her face as she remains locked inside her prison cell. Waiting a few minutes, her breath building up as she does, the woman begins smiling, her frizzled hair sticking to her teeth as her eyes become lively. Her fist closed, Eliza watches the keys dangle from the chain she managed to sneak away from the figure himself, her freedom residing in the swing of metal right before her eyes. | Head wrapped in a sack, Josh’s arms and legs remain restrained against a metal chair, his mouth muffled by the rag pulled between his teeth. Unable to speak, his breathing only bearable when the punishment halts, the man groans as the preparations he can only hear play out with no say in what comes next. Knowing this torture isn’t over, Josh notices the light begin to fade, the silhouette of a man approaching, and braces for the boot that shoves him, by the chest, backwards. His head colliding with the concrete beneath him, Josh feels everything go numb, his brain rattling against the sides of his skull as water begins swishing around in a bucket. Aware of what is to come, Josh holds whatever breath he can catch, the sensation of the sack over his face dampening further by the second forcing him into small, subtle spasms. After nearly two minutes of this water boarding stopping and starting again, the chair, and Josh himself, are lifted back onto its legs. “I want you to notice what kind of man he is, okay?” the voice from before says, instructing the unknown individual to remember everything Josh has seen and done. “He’s someone that deserves everything that’s coming to him” the voice concludes, the sound of electricity beginning to power up sending the panic even further into Josh’s heart. “When we tell you to take action, you musn’t hesitate” the voice continues, snapping towards the unknown figure to ensure their attention remains solely within their own possession. “You have the choice of this man, this very cruel and vile man, or your freedom” the voice concludes, “the decision is in your hands.” The equipment trading hands, the figure instructs the unknown individual to continue forward, instructing her not to fear delivering death. His struggle noticed, Josh groans angrily, sending the emotions he feels coursing through his body in the direction of every ear in the room. The equipment meeting such a way that creates shocks of electric overload, Josh’s fate seems seeled until something catches everyone inside the echo-inducing space by surprise. “Clear out, everyone” the main figure orders, “we’ll take this up at another time” as the rushing footsteps begin sprawling throughout the flat. His headache bringing on a level of nausea, Josh’s senses return to full alert when the sound of the main figure’s voice whispering in his ear manages to take over everything. “You haven’t seen the best of us, yet” the whisper threatens, it’s form walking off with the rest of its friends and leaving Josh in his restraints to whatever comes next. Now left in silence, Josh listens intently to the blaring alarms coming from the near-distance. In the matter of a few seconds, conflicting shouts begin closing in, finally finding the hefty garage door splitting Josh away from the outside world. “We’ve got someone!” one man shouts, the light of the room now being shared with the flashing of red and blue. Hours after his suffering began, it ends with a soaked burlap sack being ripped from his head, and an equally damp rag being pulled from the clutches on his teeth. “Cut him loose!” the officers order, his restraints being released allowing him to collapse forward, his exhaustion overtaking his body as the room begins spinning. With a call for medical assistance, Josh realizes his life to be spared for the moment, every plan being threatened without quick action. | “What do you think?” Holiday asks, the door to Josh’s hospital room closing as Arcnote joins him in the hallway. “I know this wasn’t something staged” Arcnote replies, her conversation with Josh from a few nights prior remaining unmentioned to any of her peers. “I’m more curious of who called this in than anything else” Holiday admits, “they didn’t leave any information, and they didn’t wait at the scene for police to arrive.” “They made it clear to mention Josh by name as well” Arcnote adds, the suspicions immediately being cast towards anyone still associated with the case. His back to the wall, Holiday stares towards the ceiling and sighs, any answers being obtained accompanied by three new question to match it. “We keep trying to put this puzzle together, but it just keeps getting bigger” Holiday states, his head lowering to Arcnote, who remains fixated in the man struggling to climb out of bed. “Can I tell you something off the record?” Arcnote asks, the exhaustion on Holiday’s face immediately being wiped away as intrigue replaces it. Running down her late night conversation with Josh in the hospital cafeteria, Arcnote makes a point out of taking Josh at his word. “There’s no reason to confess to involvement if your own wrong-doing in it is still left undiscovered” Arcnote argues, “if he’s telling the truth, our suspects go from three to two.” “Well which two are they?” Holiday asks, the question remaining the single roadblock cutting them off from the entirety of the road ahead. “Is there a reason that old guy, whatever his name is, would’ve done exactly what he did?” Holiday asks, still holding hope for being able to explain the seemingly irrational. “What would we find if we entered his prints? Or documented his eyes, or ran his dentals?” Holiday asks, his hopes set something clear looming just out of reach. “If it’s just out of reach, perhaps there’s a way to extend our reach a little?” Arcnote asks, the question not raising alarms in Holiday at first, only for the sirens to go off in a blast suddenly. “You’re not suggesting bringing him into this, are you?” Holiday asks, anxiety flushing through his body, turning his skin pale as Arcnote insists they’ve run low on options. “One suspect on the loose, a woman in distress vanished with the wind, and unsolvable questions” Arcnote replies, “what other choice are we left with?” His sights wandering anywhere other than on Arcnote, Holiday tells the woman to make sure any fallout finds its way back to her own shoulders. Returning to Josh’s room, the pair watch the man argue with nurses to allow him to sign himself out of care, insisting that he can look after himself. “We’ll sign him into our care” Arcnote cuts in, the argument immediately stopping as the nurses ask Josh if he, as the patient, is accepting of that offer. “Sure” the man replies, requesting the necessary paper work as Arcnote and Holiday approach. “Am I being arrested?” Josh asks, defiantly sticking his hands towards the pair, awaiting the cold cuffs to be slapped on his jailed-in-waiting wrists. “We need your help” Arcnote replies, the suggestion of the establishment he works in secret away from requesting help from within hushing him. “Have you run out of that many resources down there that I’m your best option for a consultant?” Josh asks, Arcnote offering to go with whatever he suggests the reasoning to be. With the obvious question asked, Arcnote and Holiday acknowledge themselves to be the only ones with knowledge of the prior night’s conversation. “So I confess to murder, and god knows how many other counts of other things, and you expect me to help you without further question?” Josh asks, Arcnote’s head nodding. “Okay, sure” josh replies, taking the pen from the nurse right as she walks in the door and signing the papers afforded to him. “Where to first?” the man asks, a generic white t-shirt and gray sweatpants left in a box for him to begin a new assignment with. | Birds chirping beneath a cold, but sunny New York morning, the Guardian marches to the back door of Eliza’s flat and grinds to a halt when he turns the corner. In front of his eyes, the backdoor appears wide open, the only force keeping Eliza from the outside world no longer at play. Racing inside, the figure finds the flat completely empty, his hands reaching for his head as he mentally beats himself for such a mistake. “You seem distressed” a woman’s voice calls out, the Guardian turning around to find Eliza against the wall, the figure’s keys dangling from her outstretched fingers. “You-” the Guardian starts, unable to find the correct phrasing to put his thoughts into before the woman tosses his keys to him, their rightful home returned to them via the embrace of their rightful owner. “You didn’t expect me to think I could just stab you and get this over with, right?” Eliza asks, the gun in her waistband being placed onto the table in the middle of the living room. “I still need you to give me something to do” Eliza reminds, “what’s the point of going on if we’re not still fighting for something?” His hands against his hips, the figure congratulates the woman on managing to get one over on him, especially in spite of everything that worked against her. Not caring for the celebration or the pat on the back, Eliza walks up to the figure and tells him to give her what she has earned. “I know what I’m doing and I’m more than able to handle myself” the woman asserts, “give me something to do and let me out of this fucking place.” His stare redirecting from the woman to the backdoor still left wide open, the Guardian pulls her hand out and drops the keys into her palm. “When you need a place to stay, you come here” the Guardian replies, his rundown giving the woman all she needs for relief to flood her head. “You still need to stay low” the Guardian concludes, reminding her of the kill list, “but keep holed up here and I’ll get you something to do soon.” Returning to his exit, the Guardian wishes the woman luck and closes the automatic-locking door behind him, leaving the woman to enjoy her newfound freedom in peace. | “So you’re telling me they’ve both disappeared, and they’re carrying parts of this guys body around with them?” Josh asks, the ludicrous suggestion holding complete accuracy. “And to make matters worse, there were no results for ‘Holland Breckenridge’ anywhere in the system” Holiday adds, suggesting that everyone other than Josh in the case has the same public presence as a ghost. “Are you working with the Pipeline?” Holiday asks, the need to clarify being built into his DNA. “No, and if I have my way, there’s not going to be a ‘Pipeline’ for very much longer” Josh replis, Arcnote waving off that response, begging him not to give them a reason to book and process him. “And you still have no idea why he was with Becca for that long?” Josh asks, refusal acting as the main response once more. “So what do you do now?” Josh asks, the officers running down the method of looking for prints or any other giveaways in that depot backlot the found Josh prisoner within as their only feasible course of action. “You can’t play by those rules” Josh replies, his impatience only made worse by his experience over the past twenty-four hours, “if you wait for even a second too long, she’ll be dead or they’ll be gone or something else will happen.” “We’re doing our best, but whenever we make progress, we keep getting forced back to level one” Holiday replies, asking Josh to point them in any direction that could help change that. Rubbing the sides of his head, Josh begins wondering about the person that made the phone call. Requesting to hear the call itself, Josh waits patiently for the portion where the caller themselves speak. Upon the uttering of the first word, Josh feels the hairs on the back of his neck lift, the clarity of the voice immediately falling in familiar territory. “They made sure to name you specifically” Arcnote adds, “they wanted the officers to act quickly.” Insisting that a spurt of the moment call wouldn’t have thought to mention Josh’s name in such a certain tone, Holiday ponders over the possibility of it being someone aware of it being more than just a kidnap for ransom. Knowing exactly who the voice belongs to, Josh asks for a repeat of the audio, the question of whether or not he knows the voice immediately following the second playback. “No, I’ve never heard it before” Josh replies, the knowledge of the source being hidden from those with an agenda separate of his own, “but it does sound familiar.” | Sporting goggles and a welders mask, Half continues his work on one of many projects until the sparks flying from metal dies off, his own voice being returned to him. Lifting the mask, Half notices Josh walking into his warehouse entrance, his phone replaying the audio of his phone call to police. “You saw me at the Hudson edge” Josh calls, Half responding by placing his torch down and removing his gloves. “You knew they were going to grab me and you did nothing to stop it” Josh furthers, his accusation not being argued by the man, who instead walks over to his fridge and pulls out the ingredients to a sandwich. “I think you forget that I’m still in the Pipeline” Half replies, “there’s a level of cover that I have to maintain.” His arms extended, Josh asks why his cover needed to be maintained at his own expense, putting a smile on Half’s face. “You think it’d be a smart move to argue against off-ing those on the kill list?” Half asks, begging for Josh to smarten up. “I knew where you were going, I know the fun they take before getting the job done and I knew you’d be fine” Half continues, the butter knife in his hand smearing peanut butter across the bread as Josh walks closer. “You didn’t have any guarantee that I’d make it out of there alive” Josh replies, Half turning around to promise him that he pulled the best card he had available to play. “Am I just supposed to be alright with that?” Josh asks, “accept that if put in the same position, you’d do the exact same fucking thing?” His head turning towards the angered man, Half runs the knife into the jar of jam and takes the same process as the peanut butter before it. “You should be, yes” Half replies, the finishing touches of putting the two sides of bread together being taken before the sandwich itself is lifted towards his mouth. Before the first bite can be taken, Josh lifts his slightly uncoordinated hand into the air and swipes down, the only remnants of the sandwich left in Half’s hands being the torn crust in his finger tips. “Guess what?” Josh responds, “I’m not!” Shrugging, Half replies “you should be” as he reaches for the bread bag and slides out another two pieces. “The folder, it’s by the boat” Half continues, his head jolting towards the corner of his shop where a legitimate boat resides, the manila folder left on a desk just beside it. Pulling the folds open, Josh reads in-depth reports on the pair of individuals he left uncovering in the hands of Half. In addition, a sticky note is pasted to the front of a third report, this one coming without a picture to match. ‘For gifting me the flash drive, I thought I’d throw in something special’ the sticky note reads, Josh reading it aloud, it’s conclusion signalling an explanation from Half. “I thought I’d drop it off at your safe house one of these nights” Half states, finally able to take the first bite of his sandwich, “it was worth more than both the others combined.” “It’s about the one that coordinated that attack on you” half replies when asked for the reason, “I thought you’d wanna know what to look for in the person that whisked you away.” Running down the information afforded to him, Josh begins wondering where the original two people fit into the puzzle, prompting Half to begin breaking it down for him. Taking the folder, Half pulls up the photo of a man, the timeframe of its original date taken dating back to the early 2000’s. “Is there anything familiar about this guy to you?” Half asks, holding the photo up to Josh’s eyes before the man begins tilting his head back. “You can’t be serious, can you?” Josh replies, the hint to really give it thought offering Josh both a weird sense of relief and a strange concern. “That, my sight-challenged friend, is a pre-surgery Holland Breckenridge” Half replies, citing the altered facial structure as the cause for the oversight. “Back then, he went by the name Aleister Shoemaker” Half continues, “which was his actual, legitimate name.” Amazed at the findings, Josh begins turning his wonder onto the second photograph, the young woman pictured within the confines of the picture’s border remaining unfamiliar even with a closer inspection. “I’ve never seen her before” Josh replies, his eyes leaving the photograph before stumbling upon Half’s look of concern. “It wasn’t difficult to dig anything up on her since I used to know her” Half replies, Josh beginning to watch the expression on Half’s face turn somber. “She passed away a few years ago, but you might want to read the report for the crucial part” Half continues, leaving the man and returning to his sandwich, the tears being swept from under his eyes. The paper clutched in his hands beginning to bend as his fingers clench tighter, Josh looks up over the folder’s brim and watches Half lean over his table in the back of the shop. “This can’t be” Josh remarks, the man in the distance looking over his shoulder with a depressed look. “I’m afraid it is” Half replies, taking in a deep breath before admitting that he didn’t know how he didn’t notice it sooner. “I didn’t even make the connection at first, I just recognized the face” Half says, correctly predicting Josh to keep his eyes glued on the woman’s donor information. “That’s Angel’s ex-wife” Half confesses, Josh’s eyes constantly gazing over the label of ‘Organs: to Preservation of Life, Guardian Angel Stations” repeatedly, the mixture of her name added in just to top it off. “When I opened the flash drive, it all made sense” Half continues, his turn bringing him face to face with Josh before walking back to the man. “You’re wrong, at least that theory of yours was” Half continues, “Angel didn’t sell out Alec Cerine.” His head shaking, Josh continues to mutter the word ‘no’ as he walks away, telling Half not to say anything close to what he believes him to be near saying. “I don’t want to hear it!” Josh shouts, his back turned to the man, who insists that he needs to hear it said aloud. “It can’t be possible,I fucking saw it happen!" Josh shouts, the anger in his voice only matched by Half’s disappointment to have never seen this coming. “You didn’t because it didn’t” Half replies, Josh’s face lifting up to meet Half’s as the larger man acknowledges what makes less sense than anything else he’s encountered. “Your Guardian Angel couldn’t have sold out Alec Cerine…” Half starts, Josh clenching his teeth for the sentence’s conclusion, “because your Guardian Angel is Alec Cerine.” Footsteps resonating from the warehouse’s entry, Josh and Half glance towards the open air and watch the Guardian enter with the beak of his mask aimed towards the two. With a deep breath, the figure reaches behind his head and unties the binds keeping the mask on, letting it drop from his face, hanging via the ties in the clutches of his fist. Finally revealed, Alec Cerine stands, live and in color, eyes directed towards the pair. “I guess this is the part where I explain myself” Alec proclaims, a smile spreading across his face as Half and Josh, though having expected it, stare in amazement at the sight they never thought they’d see, nor share. “Just get back to me” Josh commands, his words ending a heated phone call as he wanders around New York City. “Those chips are starting to fall into place” Nora whispers, her presence putting an immediate disgust on Josh’s face, her figure not even needing to be seen in order to induce it. “I’d prefer not to have you narrate it as they’re still mid-fall” Josh replies, reminding Nora that he already has it bad enough without her voice constantly swirling in his ear.
“It’s fun to watch you crumble” Nora replies, the glee in her tone aggravating the man still refusing to turn in her direction, “your nose starts crinkling and your left eye starts twitching.” Throwing a beanie over his head and buttoning up his windbreaker, Josh turns off the main street and enters a homeless shelter, the ghost of his former lover still lingering behind, taunting him at every opportunity. Blending into the shuffling boots soaked in rain water and mud, Josh ascends a staircase towards the third story, his eyes wandering each end of the hall as he meets his floor. “You’ll never truly be free until you accept what you’ve done” Nora prods, her words being brushed off as his focus on finding his intended door manages to drown out the sounds. “The more you run, the weaker you’ll be when you have to stop” Nora continues, following Josh to the end of the hall. “I don’t have to run because there’s nothing to run away from” Josh replies, his attention directing itself to one side of the hall. “The longer you deny it, the longer it’ll take to get to” Nora remarks, Josh turning his face towards hers as he presses his hand on his selected entry. “I’m moving on from you” Josh responds, “you don’t control me.” Amused, Nora leans into his ear and whispers, “clearly I do since you’re still imagining me.” Rather than fight the figment, Josh reaches for the door and opens it, walking into an near-empty room, the only contents of it being a bare mattress and a pizza box in the kitchen. “Hello!?” Josh calls out, his request for any response from something other than his dead lover falling on absent ears, his signal to sit and wait being offered. Approaching a shade-less window, Josh looks out at the Hudson riverfront, appreciating the rippling waves from afar. The gloomy sky sporting a dark gray allows for the rain to cover the dreary day, leaving Josh to look out at similar imagery to his own personal crisis. His eyes wandering from one side of the window to the other, Josh begins to latch onto an electronic billboard just above the street’s most populated bus stop. His attention locking on at the right time, the picture of an almost elderly man being called for by the local precinct manages to spark a match in Josh’s head. After roughly one minute of taking new intentions and routes into consideration in his head, Josh hears the door swing open, a familiar man entering the room to share his company. “I’m glad you wanted to speak with me again” the man says, Josh informing him that they never got the proper chance to discuss matters the night before. “You wanted me to call you ‘Half’, correct?” Josh asks, the man taking off his hat and bowing forward. “What do you wish to touch on first?” Half asks, watching Josh glance out at the electronic billboard once more before replying “from the top.” Nodding, “very well” Half responds, his hat and coat being draped over an empty counter as Josh begins to smile. = Joshua Lane is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Mind elsewhere?” the Guardian calls, his voice spooking Eliza, appearing from the back entry of the flat as she rolls her spoon around the milk in her cereal bowl. “You can use the front door!” Eliza calls, her appreciation of being startled in such a fashion non-existent. “Then I wouldn’t be able to catch you in your natural habitat” the Guardian replies, picking up a dry waffle from beside the woman, shrugging before pulling it beneath his mask and taking a bite. “You just doing another welfare check?” Eliza asks, “or are you here to take my gun?” The beak of his mask shaking, the Guardian tells Eliza that her choice is completely in her hands. “Neither Josh, no myself, can tell you anything that will bring you the peace you need to fight after this is all said and done” the Guardian responds, “if that’s the decision you make, so be it… But it’s not blood that I’ll be sporting on my hands.” “You dragged me into this mess” Eliza replies, frustrated at the Guardian’s complete lack of willingness to see himself as the cause of any of this. “No, Josh dragged you into this” the Guardian replies, watching Eliza’s face shrivel in refusal, “he just used you to do it.” Lifting the waffle closer to his mouth, Eliza swats at his hand, knocking the disc across the room to the disappointment of the figure standing before her. “That was uncalled for” the Guardian replies, his disapproval upstaged by Eliza’s hands pressing against his chest, shoving him back a few paces. “Take some accountability!” Eliza shouts, her hands continuing to shove the Guardian back as the figure remains silently posed over her. Before long, Eliza switches her efforts, removing them from shoving the Guardian away and, instead, directing them towards the mask. His hand shooting from his side, the Guardian snatches Eliza’s arm before it can make contact and holds it there, the sockets in the mask for his eyes revealing them to be widened towards her. Not one to surrender her efforts easily, Eliza takes her free hand and reaches to do the same, the Guardian’s free hand following the exact movements as his first. “Please, Eliza” the Guardian asks, his tone still patient and forgiving, though edging closer into the territory of demanding with each momentary show of restraint from the woman. “Please, what?” the woman asks, her lips pulling together before shooting a line of spit straight through the eyehole, the saliva running down the side of his face behind the mask’s covering. With a deep breath, the Guardian forces the woman back towards the wall with ease, his hands refusing to give up any hold as he pulls her forward and leaves her to slide across the kitchen floor. “Don’t test my patience” the Guardian requests, the woman refusing to take any of his suggestions into account, the adrenaline of being able to fight the root of her problems proving too much to allow her to think rationally. The tops of her feet pressing against the floor, Eliza throws herself forward, the Guardian immediately side-stepping, allowing Eliza to run her shoulder through the dry wall behind him. “Don’t make a stupid mistake, Eliza” the Guardian orders, his voice no longer holding any compassion, instead insisting the woman do as he says. Stubborn, Eliza charges at the man again, her efforts for nothing once more as he lays a clean strike to the left of her eye. Her body colliding with the linoleum tiles below, Eliza hops back to her feet as if nothing had happened, again pursuing the man who has switched mindsets inside his head. Another failed effort, Eliza finds the Guardian’s knee colliding with the bridge of her nose, forcing her to fall back to the ground with a more resounding thud than before. “I don’t want to have to ask you again” the Guardian persists, watching the woman use the hand not holding her face to push herself up. “Eat shit” Eliza replies, her words holding vigor as her feet remain planted, her efforts to take the Guardian down subsiding for the moment. “You need to learn how to keep this anger under control” the Guardian insists, reaching for a half-drunken water bottle and tossing it to the woman. His hand on her shoulder, the Guardian leads Eliza back into her seat as he retrieves an icepack, handing it over after wrapping it in paper towels. “The only thing you’ve got left before you put that gun to your head is what we do here” the Guardian acknowledges, “but I can’t let you get back out there when you can’t control yourself.” Her non-covered eye lifting towards the figure, Eliza asks him to simply inform her what to do to get herself out of this condo. “You need to prove to me that you can handle yourself” the Guardian replies, “keep yourself in check before you get your shit pushed in again.” With that statement, the Guardian exits the flat through the front entry, the woman left to her own vices at her kitchen table once more. Her eyes wandering from one side of the room to the other, Eliza picks up her cereal bowl and empties its contents into the sink, returning to the couch with the cold pack still pressed against her face. | Her hand pressing the phone in her hand back onto the receiver, Arcnote drops her hand into her arm as Holiday approaches her with a carrier of coffee. “Another sleepless night?” Holiday asks, the woman peaking her head up to graciously accept the drinks, confirming his suspicions. “Four days, and I can’t get more than thirty minutes of sleep without waking myself up again” Arcnote replies, her dreams consisting of the gruesome sights from days prior. “Get yourself some sleeping pills” Holiday replies, telling her that he’s been forced to start using them in order to keep his head on the pillow. “It’s not a sight that’ll be any easier to remember” Holiday continues, his twitching hand resting on the metal desktop, “but we’ve gotta get some sleep somehow.” Accepting defeat to her own sleep cycle, Arcnote promises she’ll try to get sleep when she gets home tonight, the man refusing to allow her any more time without it. “You may be my superior, but that doesn’t mean I can’t order you to do something when it’s for the best” Holiday jokes, “go home and try to sleep. Come back ready for tomorrow.” With a smile on her face, Arcnote gives in, allowing Holiday to breathe a sigh of relief as she stands up and grabs her coat. Handing her a bottle he expected to give her anyway, Holiday instructs her to take two pills a night before letting her leave with a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning” Arcnote replies, her hair falling over her shoulders as she makes her way to the garage entrance. Upon her return home, Arcnote carelessly throws her jacket over a dining room table and lets her briefcase fall onto the couch. Once asleep, the woman begins to toss and turn, her body tensing up as her worried recollections force her to spasm. Eventually, the woman jolts awake, her mind struggling to consider the hours of sleep she had accumulated as being worth it. Looking towards her bedroom window, Arcnote notices the day having turned to night, the rain having refused to stop in the time between. Her beside lamp being flicked on, the warm yellow light splashes her wall as she reaches for her phone, the contrast of the cold, white screen calling for a brief transition on her eyes. ‘You there?’ a notification bubble reads, a man’s name above the text putting a half smile on the face of the woman still trying to calm her nerves. Swiping her finger across the screen, Arcnote replies with a humorous and bubbly ‘yes’, her phone being carried by her side as she steps out of bed. A warm cardigan being pulled over her shoulders, Arcnote walks through the passage between her bedroom and her living space, the warm yellow light quickly turning into a cool, brisk deep blue mixed with the natural shadows of the light-less night. “Good evening” a man greets from her couch, the woman leaping back at the immediate surprise, her phone falling to the floor and cracking upon impact. Her back pressing against the wall, Arcnote’s mouth widens when her eyes finally stumble upon the voice’s origin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” the voice informs, the calm nature behind it making the interaction all the more eery, “this seemed like the only way to talk to you without having to be at the precinct.” “What are you doing in my house?” the woman asks, her voice trembling with fear in the opposite manner of the figure’s. “I don’t mean you any harm” the figure replies, “I know you’ve wanted to speak with me, so this was the safest way for both of us that I could make that happen in.” His ankles crossing over each other, Josh informs Arcnote that he will remain seated, and will only stand to his feet when he believes he is ready to leave. “I know you have your firearm in that briefcase” Josh informs, watching Arcnote’s eyes lock onto her bag, “you’re free to take it, and hold it in my direction, if it makes you feel safer.” Taking the man up on his word, Arcnote inches her hand out and picks up her bag, pulling the weapon from it and holding it by her hip, the barrel aimed at Josh. “This conversation takes place between you and me” Josh says, “my one rule is that what I say to you in this moment is said in confidence.” Her chin high enough for her eyes to stare over it at the lowest level of her eyelids, Arcnote pulls a chair from her kitchen out to sit upon. “I’m going to answer all of your questions honestly, and I’m going to tell you things that you’d otherwise not get anywhere else” Josh continues, asking Arcnote if she’s ready. With a subtle nod, Arcnote watches Josh fold his hands, his left foot bouncing in anticipation as he responds, “let’s begin.” | “His entire life depends on completing this” Half replies, his hands pointed forward as they collide with the countertop surface, illustrating his point. “He felt wronged by them, like he was forced to leave everything behind because he didn’t agree with their ideology” Half continues, “and now everything for him, from life to death, depends on the downfall of the Pipeline as it currently stands.” “So where does that leave your point?” Josh asks, the picture blurring with every new detail mixed in, “if I’m in danger of my end of the bargain not being delivered, what would he need me for after?” His eyes lowering, Half replaces his stare with a disappointed frown, “he wouldn’t because there wont be an after.” Running down the list of rivals that have faced the Pipeline from the other team, Half reveals the long list to be completely discarded of with the exception of Guardian and himself. “I stand for what Angel’s working for, I truly do” Half admits, his hatred for Josh’s guardian not encompassing his understanding of the bigger picture, “but I don’t agree with the way he works for it.” Telling Josh the short story of how regular interactions with the Pipeline go, Half informs him that there are very few, if any scenarios, that end with anything other than Josh’s demise, and most of those scenario’s still don’t end happily. “He’ll gladly die if it means taking the Pipeline out of commission” Half continues, “but he’s not afraid to take you down with him.” His fingers tapping along the marble countertop, Josh feels a cool rush of air dance on the back of his neck. “Those chips are falling awfully fast” Nora whispers, Josh’s face immediately growing sour as he attempts to ignore the voice. “So what are you willing to offer me in exchange for these?” Josh asks, a manilla folder thrown down in front of him. “Information I’d rather you keep to yourself than share with the Guardian” Half replies, his finger pressing against the folder and sliding it back to Josh. “He’s making it your call” Nora whispers, Josh’s eye twitching for a moment before stopping as a large breath of air fills the man’s lungs. His hand pulling the pictures from days before out, Josh tells Half that he has a different strategy for dealing with the Pipeline that requires intel over violence. “Unfamiliar territory, but continue nonetheless” Half replies, watching Josh spread the photos along the countertop as if they were playing cards. “Each of these people are connected to the Pipeline, this we’re already more than aware of” Josh begins, using one finger to push a specific photo closer to his opposite. “What can you tell me about this man that has nothing to do with the Pipeline?” Josh asks, the photo in question containing a business shot of Warren Duane. “That would be Warren Duane, the former executive of your old employer” Half replies, “and he happened to be the first major figure in the Pipeline that met their demise at your hand.” His finger moving to another photo and doing the same, Josh asks for the same explanation. “That is Alec Cerine, another suggested figure in the Pipeline” Half replies, his eyes narrowing, “from what I’m aware of, he was killed by the Pipeline after being ousted as a mole.” “And this?” Josh asks, sliding a photo of Jenn, Alec’s former lover, closer to Half’s eyes. “That would be Jennifer Catherine, you’re already aware of who she is and what she did” Half replies, “she’s currently living as far as I’m aware and has no connection to the Pipeline that I know of.” His head shaking, Half asks what Josh is trying to get at, pointing out Josh’s pre-existing familiarity with the subjects in these pictures. “After I killed Warren, Alec was murdered and the calls from the Guardian began” Josh replies, pulling from his pocket a familiar flash drive, playing with it’s port as he continues. “So I kill Warren, Alec is found out to be a mole, and then the Guardian swings into my business” Josh continues, “tell me where these things connect.” His head hanging slightly, Half props his chin up with his right hand and takes the photo of Cerine into his left. “I’m aware that I know more than Angel is willing to tell you” Half admits, “but what makes you think I know this?” His eyes still attached to the flash drive, Josh places the device on the counter and slides it to Half, who glances back at Josh before he picks it up. “Turn it over” Josh instructs, watching Half flip the device over to read ‘for ½’ scrawled on the back in white-out. “Maybe you don’t know why, but I know you knew Alec” Josh states, watching Half look up with his mouth slightly ajar, “and maybe you don’t have the answer, but I know they’re connected.” Swallowing the spit developing in the back of his throat, Josh tells Half that he’s come up with a theory that would be rooted in realism if the information Half is feeding him is true. “I think killing Warren put me in the Guardian’s crosshairs” Josh admits, his hands pressing against the countertop to assist him to his feet. “Don’t finish what I think you’re about to say” Half requests, his eyes lowering to the flash drive. “I know you two had been friends since you started pre-school together” Josh replies, taking pity on Half as he begins to piece together why Half may have more of a hatred for the Guardian than just false-promises. “I’m sorry that you don’t want to hear it, but I need to say it out loud before I convince myself that I’ve gone crazy” Josh continues, watching Half’s eyes look up at him and accompany a regretful nod. “I think Guardian sold out Alec to disrupt the upper echelon of the Pipeline, weaken it from within” Josh confesses, “and I think he’s willing to do it to anyone else in order to make sure order within falls to depravity.” Walking to his windbreaker, Josh throws it over his shoulders and pops the beanie back on. “You can keep all of those, but I’ve left two pictures behind the ones I slid to you” Josh continues, “if you want to make sure this is done the right way, come back to me with something I can work with on them.” Refusing to take back the documents, Josh leaves Half what he believes he is owed. “No more false promises, no more deceit, and no more blood lust” Josh states, pulling his winter gloves over his hands and walking for the door, “now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” exiting the flat, Josh shuts the door behind him and leaves Half remaining where he left him, the touch of his longtime friend’s final remaining words to him allowing Half a closure he had disappointingly believed himself to be forced into believing he’d be without. | “You have plenty of questions” Josh states, watching Arcnote depend on the back of her chair to keep her from instinctively backing away, “I’m willing to answer them.” Licking the sides of her mouth as she notices it to have gone dry, Arcnote begins with asking Josh if he’s committed the crime of murder within the last year. “Yes, I have” Josh replies, the woman’s eyes narrowing as she continues to test the supposedly offered honesty the man claims to be willing to give. “Are you currently the suspect in any crimes related to murrder?” Arcnote asks, the man smirking, offering a chuckle. “You tell me” Josh replies, his thumbs gliding off each other, one after another, as he watches Arcnote consider whether or not to pull specific names into play. “Did you kill Warren Duane?” Arcnote asks, the man puckering his lips briefly before answering truthfully, “Yes, I did.” “Did you kill Alec Cerine?” Arcnote asks, the man denying any involvement in that crime with a shaking head to match. “Did you kill former Lieutenant eric Devine?” Arcnote asks, the man pausing for a moment as he totters his head from side to side. “I’d say I indirectly caused it, but if you’re asking if I directly had delivered the fatal blow, the answer is ‘no’” Josh responds, the woman narrowing her eyes. “The Pipeline member we found a number of weeks ago?” Arcnote asks, the man’s eyes widening. “Which one?” Josh asks, responding ‘no’ when Arcnote specifies the individual in question. “Why are you coming to me now?” Arcnote asks, the man’s smile fading into a composed face of contempt, “why tell me, a detective, all of these things now?” “For a start, it’s your word against mine” Josh replies, “and in addition to that, the idea that you’d sit and agree to this without calling for backup makes it immediately suspicious.” His voice turning from humorous to sympathetic, Josh admits that there is more rhyme and reason to his intentions. “I know you’re of the belief that all murder is bad, and all murderers are bad” Josh continues, “but I believe what I have to say is worth at least thinking about.” “Then say your piece” Arcnote replies, challenging the man to act on his confidence at being able to justify the actions he’s taken and the criminal acts he’s committed. “I suppose you’re already aware of the Pipeline, as well as Devine’s presence within it, so let’s use that as an example” Josh begins, asking Arcnote to be honest in her response, “do you think he would have been treated the same way as any other criminal in the court?” “I believe he would have, yes” Arcnote replies, Josh’s head immediately hanging, shaking in disapproval. “I think, and know, otherwise” Josh replies, “so let me ask you this… What do you think made Bill Cosby and Jeff Epstein’s indictments so surprising?” Shrugging her shoulders, Arcnote retires to Josh’s follow, the an insisting that the rarity in notable figures, individuals with power, being punished for their wrong-doings is what made them surprising. “This system isn’t difficult to cheat, all you need is a fat wallet and some connections” Josh continues, “these people, like those at the top of the Pipeline are practically untouchable.” Denying this notion, Arcnote points out the other examples of notable figures being punished for their actions. “Every example you can give me is something I can find four examples of that worked the other way” Josh replies, telling Arcnote that the courts cannot be trusted. “Think about the Pipeline’s victims, everything we know they do and what we haven’t seen yet” Josh continues, “think about how much they would’ve gotten away with if it weren’t for Devine.” Her head shaking, Arcnote asks Josh to illustrate his point. “I killed Warren Duane, Devine pieced me to the murder, and without Devine dying in that fire, the precinct wouldn’t have even known the Pipeline existed!” Josh continues, Arcnote failing to come up with an adequate response. “All of their victims would have gone without justice had it not been for the actions I took” Josh continues, the woman still refusing to allow herself to view the situation through the lens of her moral opposition. “If he was never taken to trial, you can’t be sure of that” Arcnote replies, Josh beginning to feel the effects of a headache as he begins realizing how hard of a sell his view is on a woman as steadfast by her beliefs as Arcnote is. “He would have never gone to trial, why can you not see that!?” Josh asks, his arms stretching out as he fails to comprehend how Arcnote could look at the situation in such a flowers-and-roses fashion. “I don’t care how you spin it, murder is not the answer to problems because you disagree with how a system operates” Arcnote replies, Josh’s face immediately dropping as his fingers begin to twirl around themselves. “I’m sorry, but if your goal is to convince me that you’re in the right morally here, you’re not going to win” Arcnote replies, watching Josh’s brow lower, visually pulling the recent claim apart. “Is murder not morally right?” Josh asks, the woman surprised at the suggestion she’d reply with anything other than ‘no’ even being questioned. “So in what way is the death penalty morally right?” Josh asks, Arcnote immediately beginning to back away from the conversation’s route. “You’re comparing outright murder to a sentence carried out after legal process had been done” Arcnote replies, “there is no comparison.” His hands stretched out, Josh asks the simple question of ‘why not?’, leaving Arcnote silent. “Duane ran an underground ring of child pornography distribution and who the fuck knows what else!” Josh shouts, “why do we need to sit through a trial of him feeding us bullshit in order to find him guilty?” “Because he gets the chance to defend himself!” Arcnote replies, her nose flaring as Josh leans forward to do the same. “If the people he’s turned into victims don’t get to defend themselves from him, why does he get to defend himself from them?” Josh asks, the woman attempting to respond, only for her words to fall over themselves as they leave her lips. “He silenced them, he victimized them, and he’s groomed a cult of followers to do the exact same thing, why does he get a fair trial?” Josh asks, the woman struggling to come up with any reason not rooted in legal speak. Her firearm having lowered its barrel towards the ground, Arcnote remains silent, allowing for Josh to continue. “After OJ Simpson was found innocent, most of the jurors said it was a verdict they reached out of spite for the LAPD” Josh recalls, leaning closer to the woman. “How can a system like that be seen, bottom to top, as fair?” Josh continues, Arcnote taking a few seconds before admitting that she never said it was fair. “You look at what I do as something heinous, punishing terrible people for doing terrible things” Josh repeats, “but if their victims didn’t get a say, neither do they.” Her head hung, Arcnote looks up towards Josh and tells him that he only lowers himself to their level when he serves them their ‘punishment.’ “I don’t punish innocent, unsuspecting people” Josh replies, his arms pushing himself to his feet for the first time that evening, “I punish awful, deserving people.” Walking to the door, Josh extends his arm towards the handle before pausing, his head turning back to Arcnote before he spins the remainder of his body around at the sound of Arcnote calling back out to him. “It’s not your place to make that decision” Arcnote replies, the man turning around to look at the woman, his stare questioning whether or not she fully understands her own statement. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies” Arcnote continues, her words bringing amusement to the man, “and it’s not your place to pull the trigger.” His back leaning against the door, Josh tells Arcnote that this point specifically is where she’s wrong. “If I’m called to the jurors bench by someone trying to give his defendant the best chance to not get the needle, it is my decision” Josh replies, “that’s decided by an agenda-heavy lawyer in a $5,000 suit.” The woman standing from her seat, Arcnote places her weapon in the waist band behind her back. “So it’s not my decision when I say, but the decision when a biased crook with a horse in the race says so, right?” Silent, Arcnote watches as Josh walks closer towards her, the woman no longer feeling the need to point a gun in his direction to make her control known. “And furthermore, why isn’t it my place to pull the trigger, or fill the syringe?” Josh asks, his face inching closer to the woman’s as she keeps her eyes firmly set on his. “Who gets to decide which person carries that weight on their shoulders?” Josh asks, “who really makes that decision?” “It shouldn’t be you” Arcnote replies, the man’s head shaking in disappointment, though a brief moment of hope that she’s understanding where his view comes from shows in his posture. “That’s where the discussion comes into play, isn’t it detective?” Josh asks, “the age old question of whether people like me are simple vigilantes or monsters.” “I struggle to see the difference between the two” Arcnote replies, the man’s smirk shining in spite of the dark. “People argue whether vigilantes are good or bad” Josh replies, the woman’s face scrunching as she questions the purpose of that statement. “You can’t have that same discussion about monsters.” As he attempts to leave, Josh hears Arcnote call out for an answer to his question. “You asked who gets to decide who does or doesn’t kill” Arcnote repeats, “what’s the right answer if ‘it isn’t you’ isn’t it?” His hands tucking into his pockets, Josh tells Arcnote that there isn’t, nor should there be, a single correct answer. “If the system can’t tell me who should and shouldn’t be allowed to kill, I don’t trust the system to tell me who should or shouldn’t die” Josh replies, returning for the door, successfully leaving through it this time around. Left alone, Arcnote stands in place, her flat no longer being shared amongst two people. Within seconds, the splintered phone begins buzzing on the ground, the white light bleaching the dark room as Arcnote remains staring at the door. Her head drifting, Arcnote begins to think about Josh’s words, the statements he made and the possible gravity behind them as the subject of her text messages continues beaconing for her attention. -[ So everyone was putting together their own puzzles, but no one had all the pieces included in their sets. So the game boiled down to who could complete their puzzle the most before they had run out of the available pieces, and eventually, that became the only thing keeping us a step ahead of the law. Guardian was keeping Eliza chained up while he sent others looking around for the other two suspects on Holiday and Arcnote’s list.
Speaking of their list, I was the only one they knew was on it for sure, so my goal became staying out of their reach for as long as I could. I’d like to say it was easy, but in all honesty, it only made me more paranoid. Regardless, the plan remained on. Both the precinct and the Pipeline were coming after me, and by this point, I’m sure the cops would have heard about that through the grapevine. The next few weeks played out with as slow of a pace as one could imagine. Just a lot of traveling by foot, sticking to the shadows and making sure to avoid being noticed. Of course, that’s when things began to take a turn behind the scenes. Guardian’s handy men were making progress with finding out the other suspects until Arcnote began playing catch up. Leave it to a few fishermen hanging off the coast to give her the break she had been looking for. ]- “Detective” Holiday calls out, his head and left hand peering over the edge of Arcnote’s doorframe. “What is it, Holiday?” Arcnote asks, the man’s smirk giving her a rush of excitement. “So they just caught the back axel?” Arcnote calls, her coat nearly dragging against the early winter ground as she tightens the gloves over her hands. “Lucky break” Holiday replies, “the license plate was removed, but the interior matches to a tee.” “Matches what?” Arcnote asks, taking Holiday’s phone as he extends it towards her with a picture already loaded onto the screen. “Well that’s interesting” Arcnote replies, her tone taking that of someone mostly convinced, but knowing enough to reside at least a small amount of doubt in her mind. “His car, his city, his crime, him in the photo” Holiday pieces together, “everything connects back to Josh Lane, and the car is just the rope to tie the ends together.” “Let’s just keep ourselves from getting tunnel vision and answer a few questions first” Arcnote replies, her hands held out to visualize her hope for the enticement to cool off. “Why is he on this ‘kill list’?” Arcnote asks, Holiday’s quick response of a marker to throw investigators off serving as a reasonable conclusion to come to. “Why would Becca come forward?” Arcnote furthers, a response from Holiday coming slightly late in comparison to his response prior. “I’ve yet to piece that together in full, but I’d assume he wronged her in such a way that perhaps convinced her to turn in the truth” Holiday replies, leaving Arcnote less than convinced. “Obtain a search warrant for Mr. Lane’s home and keep tracking him down” Arcnote orders, “and for god’s sake, come up with something better than ‘he was an asshole to his fling’.” With a nod, Holiday walks off, leaving Arcnote to watch the car ascend from the cold Hudson waters, it’s back wheels being the first to touch ground. “Bring this into evidence” Arcnote commands, “I want every inch of this car searched for anything worth looking at.” Walking from the vehicle, Arcnote retrieves her phone from it’s place on her belt and dials a number disassociated with the precinct. “Hi, it’s Hayden” the woman greets, a smile on her face at the sound of the voice on the other end. “Care to meet for lunch?” Arcnote asks, a response of ‘great’ coming from her lips as she returns to her cruiser and prepares to make the trip. = Joshua Lane is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = Answering his phone, Josh greets the guardian, turning off the sidewalk and up to the front doors of a private high school. Buzzing for entry, Josh pulls the doors open and approaches the secretary’s station, handing her an envelope and going on his way as he has countless times before. “We’re close” Josh responds to the other line, “in fishing terms, the bobber keeps poking beneath the water, all I have to do is reel it in close enough to get my hands on it.” “Let’s not mince words” the Guardian replies, instructing Josh closely to lay out everything with pinpoint accuracy. “I’ll leave nothing out” Josh replies, hanging up and returning the phone to his pocket as he enters just one of the many classrooms. “I trust you have what I’m looking for?” the voice of a man with his back turned to Josh asks, his eyes wandering on the sights outside as the mid-day sun begins its early setting time. From his blazer slot, Josh pulls a selection of photos and leaves them sprawled across the teacher’s desk. From his opposite coat pocket, Josh removes a document pertaining to something going against the figure’s best interests. “It’s just as I said” Josh returns, “you take care of this for me, and I’ll take care of this for you.” Laying the paper on the table beside the photos, Josh returns his hands together beneath his abdomen. “Are we in agreement?” Josh asks, the man’s back dressed in black, only visible through the dark orange glow of the setting sky reflecting off what it can reach. Swallowing his breath, the figure slowly turns towards Josh, half of his face illuminated by the light outside as his breath visibly runs through the air. “You’re aware of what this means for both of us, correct?” the figure asks, his own hands tucked much like Josh’s, only his remain behind his back, rather than in front of him. “I know what this means for me” Josh replies, “you’ve yet to tell me anything about yourself.” His lips pairing together, the man nods slightly and returns the rest of his face towards Josh, the previously unseen side appearing heavily scarred by a horrible facial burn stretching from jaw to forehead. Caught by surprise, Josh’s breathing goes thin and his chin raises a few inches, watching each movement from the man in preparation for events going south. “You can call me half…. For obvious reasons” the man replies, his approach slowly bringing him to the opposite side of Joshua’s table. “Would you like to guess how I got these?” Half asks, his single hand pointing a single finger, the tip running down the ripples in his malformed skin. “I really wouldn’t” Josh replies, an empty smile appearing on Half’s face as his remaining fingers extend, running over the skin as if it were fabric. “I attempted this trade once” Half replies, his eyes looking at the document, resting on the tabletop for the taking. “I would have thought I’d have earned that by now” Half continues, Josh’s hands remaining unmoved as Half eyes the documents, looking at them with a sinister lust. “It appeared that I was wrong” Half replies, “because I didn’t just get screwed over by your boss… But I got burned by my own.” His chin remaining still, Josh watches Half inch his hands closer to the paper, his eyes continuing to keep on Josh, watching to see how long it would be before Josh decided enough. “Not gonna stop me?” Half asks, his smile beginning to sport an intrigue it lacked before, Josh’s hands remaining still and unchanged as a third voice declares that they will do no such thing. Quickly turning around to spot a masked figure entering the room, Half watches the Guardian cautiously enter the room. “You try to leave the room with them, however” The Guardian continues, Josh pulling a blade from his coat as the figure in the back of the room pauses, “that’s when that changes a bit.” With a stare shared between both directions, Half removes his hands from the document and lifts them into the air as a show of surrender. “Here to screw me over again, old friend?” Half asks, no longer sharing the stare, instead focusing it on the familiar foe across the room. “You screwed yourself over” Guardian replies, his hand resting on his revolver as he slowly closes the distance between himself and Half, “leave it up to a man calling himself ‘half’ to do a half-assed job.” With a grin, Half extends his arms, leaving them out as a sign of refusing to reach for anything beneath his coat. “I clearly didn’t come from the Pipeline’s era of forgiveness like you” Half replies, the allegation immediately lifting questions into Josh’s head as he watches the scene play out. “You had me on a suicide mission” Half continues, “pardon me for settling for a face of hot iron over being burned alive when things got heated.” “I promised you amnesty” Guardian replies, Half’s eyes bolting open as his face grows sour. “No, you promised me a quick death” Half replies, “I chose to live to fight another day, you just wanted to get rid of me so you didn’t have to go through on your word.” His head shaking, the Guardian makes an attempt to refute the claims, only for a concerned voice to begin asking questions behind him. “What is he talking about?” Josh asks, the Guardian keeping his back turned to his counterpart as Half begins to realize the difference in shared information between the pair. “You haven’t told him? Half asks, looking towards the Guardian, who keeps his eyes placed on a newly amused Half. “Josh, we can discuss this later” the man dressed from head to toe in a plague-like bird mask replies, Half no longer circling the room, instead staring directly at the man behind the desk. Without further hesitation, Josh pulls his gun from his coat and takes aim at the Guardian, demanding answers to his question. “That a boy” Half replies, encouraged by Josh’s ability to make such a quick decision. “Take aim at the guy before he can take aim at you” Half continues, encouraging the behavior, even taking one of the student’s seats to watch this all unfold. “Josh, what are you doing?” Guardian asks, watching the man return the documents and photos with his free hand to their coverage within his coat. “I’m trying to figure out exactly what my part in all of this is” Josh replies, his gun lifting towards the Guardian’s head. “I’ve told you what your part in this is, Josh” the Guardian returns, “if you’re seriously buying into this guy’s bullshit this easily, perhaps I was wrong about you.” “He’s only saying the same stuff I’ve been thinking to myself” Josh replies, “and if he and I are sharing thoughts, that only means you’re down a peg or two.” His gun still aimed at Half, the Guardian concedes, lowering it to his side and returning it to his coat. “Half, you need to leave” Guardian returns, lifting his hands into the air as Half removes himself from the seat. “Keep in touch” Josh says, Half enthusiastically implying that he’ll be more than happy to do so. Climbing through the window he had left open previously, Half escapes into the setting sun as Josh directs the Guardian to the seat Half had just finished occupying. “What is he talking about?” Josh asks, the gun still suspended in air, “and don’t feed me nonsense, tell me exactly what he meant.” With a deep breath, the Guardian tells Josh that he’s getting too far ahead of himself. “We’re doing business with him because of the secrets he keeps” the Guardian continues, “why wouldn’t he look for every opportunity he can to get his name cleaned up from this dirt?” His lip still bit, Josh takes a seat opposite the Guardian, telling him to clarify the truth and falsehoods in Half’s statements, keeping the weapon aimed between Guardian’s eyes. His pride swallowed, the Guardian looks to Josh and admits to part of Half’s claims being somewhat made in truth. “Yes, I refused to give him thee documents the first time around” the Guardian acknowledges, “but he did half of what he was told to do, so I voided the deal.” Gun still aimed at Guardian, Josh instructs him to keep going, wanting as much clarity between truth and fiction as can be offered. “The quick death was how he chose to look at it” Guardian continues, “he figured he’d be as good as dead once the Pipeline realized he had betrayed their trust.” “So that’s on him?” Josh asks, accepting Guardian’s explanation of events before asking a follow-up. “What about the Pipeline?” the armed mercenary asks, Guardian’s eyes lowering from within the mask, “he said you were a part of it at one point. Is that true, too?” His voice growing less authoritative, now taking on a newly disappointed rasp, Guardian admits to his past involvement. “Before it became what it is now, yes” Guardian replies, “the second things started taking a turn towards what it is now, I got out.” Hesitant to take the Guardian’s word for it on face value alone, Josh asks why his goal remains to take it down. “I know the people that control it, and I know what lengths they’d go for the littlest amounts of power” Guardian replies, “that’s dangerous just in general, but it’s a whole new animal to tame when they have the power they do.” “The lengths they’d go for the littlest amounts of power?” Josh reiterates, an aura of tension building in his gaze, “you mean like cultivating a group of killers to do your dirty work?” Victim to the irony at play, Guardian assures Josh that he’s a man of his word as long as what is asked of the individual in question is performed. “Do what needs to be done and I’ll stand by my word” Guardian retorts, “but leave the job unfinished, and the reward remains unpaid.” Standing from his desk with the gun still unwavering in air, Josh walks to the Guardian and places the gun to the side of his mask, making sure the man beneath cover hears him clearly. “I couldn’t care less what happens to me at the end of this” Josh begins, watching the mask turn its front towards his face, “but I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure Eliza gets to walk away from this at the end.” “Do you understand me?” Josh asks, watching the Guardian stare him without movement. Suddenly, the man beneath his cloak swipes his hands through the air, quickly disarming Josh and holding his own gun between his eyes. Outclassed, Josh surrenders to the new position, lifting his hands, spreading his fingers apart on both sides of his head. Without second thought, Guardian quickly disassembles the weapon and scatters the pieces amongst the front desk. “I’ve already told you what your role in this is, Josh” Guardian replies, approaching the man and standing before him, his height towering. “Do what I need you to, and the both of you can run off sniffing roses wherever you please” Guardian concludes, vanishing through the classroom entrance and leaving Josh in the arctic-like frost of the New York winter. | “Get the door!” Holland shouts, a drained and depressed Becca doing as told as she marches from her bedroom to the front door. “Where not looking for-” Becca begins, silenced by the sight of the individuals she answers the door to. “Ms Havish, I’m detective Hayden Arcnote. We spoke a few weeks ago?” the woman replies, introducing her partner and asking for a moment of her time. Glancing back, Becca watches Holland wave his hand across his throat, giving Becca the signal to decline the request. “I’m afraid the question was merely formality” Arcnote replies, being the first to step through the doorway, putting a frown on Holland’s face as she walks in. Introducing herself, Arcnote holds her hand out and approaches Holland, who folds his arms and informs her that he’s more than already aware of her name and occupation. “Ain’t you the keeper?” Arcnote quips, not caring one bit at the insulted expression sported by the man, instead taking a seat opposite him. “I assume you haven’t spoken to Mr. Lane recently, have you?” Arcnote asks, her eyes looking towards Becca as she asks the question, only for it to be answered by Holland on her behalf. “Still in the dark like she was a few weeks back” Holland replies, noticing the immediate dislike taken to him by the woman on the opposite sofa. “I’m sure she can respond for herself” Arcnote replies, her stare towards Holland holding enough malice to make her meaning clear enough for the most clueless to understand. “I’d rather she didn’t” Holland replies, his smug face giving Arcnote the desire to take a shower. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t give a shit what you’d rather she do or not do” Arcnote replies, watching the man’s face sink into unrivaled disdain. “Your in my house, so you definitely fucking do” Holland returns, Arcnote’s grin acting as the perfect flip side to Holland’s own frown. “The name on the lease to this house is under her name” Arcnote replies, “so unless you can show me a piece of mail that says otherwise, you don’t own shit here… So I’d keep your fucking mouth shut before I put you in cuffs.” His fuse short, Holland leaps to his feet and walks over to Arcnote, towering over her as she stands to meet him. “You’ve got no authority to do so” Holland replies, watching Arcnote quickly shoot back with the reminder that he’s currently impeding in an active investigation. “If I wanna drag your ass down every block from here to the station by the ankles, you can bet there’ll be no one to stop me” Arcnote replies, insisting he retire to another section of the room, or face legal action. Refusing to back down to authority, Holland spits in the face of Arcnote, the air from his lungs blowing her hair back as Holiday begins to march towards him. “Back off!” Holland shouts, pulling a pistol from beneath the couch cushions and taking aim at Holiday, demanding he play his cards right. Confidently, Arcnote pulls the gun down and lifts her knee up, bending Holland’s arm the opposite way and breaking it cleanly in two. The trigger being pulled instinctively, Holland fires a single round into the carpet as Arcnote slams him front-first into the ground. “My arm you bitch!” Holland shouts, spit running down his lips as Arcnote cuffs him, reading his rights as the initial wad of spit still remains on her nose. “Take him to the station and get me a crew here” Arcnote orders, looking to Becca, whose eyes contain more life in this one moment than they have in nearly three months. “He your boyfriend?” Arcnote asks, the woman rushing from behind the couch and wrapping her arms around her captive’s capturer. “Thank you” Becca mutters, Arcnote telling Holiday to get a trauma specialist in as well as she returns the embrace. “We can talk about it in a bit, alright?” Arcnote asks, Becca nodding as the woman begins to realize the complexity of what she went in believing to be an open and shut case. | “You in there?” Josh calls, his fist continuing to thud against the motel door as he awaits a response from the opposite end. “I can hear you thudding around, can you let me in?” Josh calls out again, the door thin enough for the sigh on the other end to give him a laugh. “Do you just not know how to take a hint?” Eliza asks, pulling the door open and allowing Josh entry. “I’m a multi-millionaire” Josh replies, “I’m not given hints very often.” Returning to the interior, the walls containing the sights of a woman having failed to leave the space in over a month, Eliza takes an already sunken seat on the couch as Josh leans against the wall. “You seem like you’re settling in pretty well” Josh remarks, the woman looking at him with a familiar stare, giving him the signal to call it quits on the jokes before she returns the favor. “Why are you here?” Eliza asks, her arms clutching at a pillow as her sights direct themselves to a black and white movie, subtitles translating the original language of french as the television remains muted. Taking a seat, Josh asks the girl why she took on the responsibility of getting into the Pipeline ahead of schedule. “What else is there to do?” Eliza asks, seemingly blaming the lack of immediate progress on the reason behind her decision. “Wait until the moment showed up?” Josh replies, his answer sounding more like a question, prompting the woman to roll her eyes. “That’s really easy for you to say” Eliza replies, only adding onto Josh’s puzzlement. “You live for this kind of shit, this is your way of life” Eliza replies, her back arching as she leans closer in Josh’s direction, “I hate everything that I am right now, and if I don’t have something to do to take my mind off it, I start losing it.” “So you just go running in, guns blazing, no chance of making it out alive?” Josh asks, Eliza’s eyes immediately widening as her smile encompasses her face. “Josh, I don’t want to live as long as this is the person I see in the mirror” Eliza replies, her refusal to accept Josh’s work as anything similar to her own driving her to the brink of mental breakdown. “You tell me to go somewhere, at least I have that end point in mind to distract me” Eliza continues, “you leave me to sit somewhere and wait things out, I’m just letting it fester.” Wondrous as to what changed, Josh asks Eliza exactly when her mind took this path. “How can you be so fucking dumb? It’s been this way since the start!” Eliza shouts, her adrenaline beginning to pump, “I accepted what you do, that doesn’t make it okay for me to do the same!” Her pillow put beside her, Eliza gets up from her trench in the seat and walks into the kitchen, retrieving a firearm and placing it on the table between the two. “The only reason I haven’t used it is because I’m hoping I’ll be let out of here eventually” Eliza replies, Josh’s worry beginning to build at an increased rate, “the second he clears me of whatever I owe him, this is the ticket I’m punching.” Slowly pushing himself up, Josh holds his hands out to Eliza, the woman backing away at first until she allows herself to give into whatever happens in the moment. “Please don’t do that” Josh replies, his request immediately falling on ears that had become deaf to that request long ago. “The only reason I’m still fighting is because there’s a chance I can do some good before I go” Eliza replies, “but I can’t sleep anymore without thinking about my hands being covered in blood.” Biting her lip to keep it from continuously quivering, Eliza tells Josh that the good of the work they currently share doesn’t make up for the memory of the lives they’ve taken. “I came to this city to file paper and make phone calls” Eliza continues, her eyes filling with tears yet to run, “not to torture people and be okay with it.” Understanding that there could be a point in time where she could accept it, Eliza admits that she wants nothing to do with when that day comes. “You said vigilantes are subject to debates about whether what they do is good or bad” Eliza recalls, looking the man in the eyes and pressing her hands to his face, “I don’t want to be the subject for that kind of debate.” His words having run out, Josh steadies his head and pulls Eliza’s head in close, giving it a peck on the forehead before leaving the flat, coming to the conclusion that no response was the most appropriate response. | “She doesn’t wanna talk” Arcnote says, leaving the interrogation room Becca remains in, plastic cup of water in her trembling hands as Holiday meets her behind the two-way mirror. “Can you blame her?” Holiday asks, glancing at the woman as her eyes glue themselves to the rippling waves held within the confinement of her cup. “Who the hell knows what that freak did to her” Holiday mutters, his eyes turning angered when he stares towards the Holland-occupying second room. “What have we gotten out of him?” Arcnote asks, Holiday suggesting the same amount as the still-silent Becca. “He wanted his lawyer, didn’t say a word after that” Holiday adds in, the information being vocalized just as Holland’s lawyer steps into the corridor. “I’m here for Mr. Breckenridge” the elder says, pointed towards the room by Arcnote, who informs them that they will return to them shortly. “Is the print scanner up and running yet?” Arcnote asks, Holiday informing her that they’re just getting through the individuals still waiting for their rundowns. “I wanna get another shot at her” Arcnote says, pulling her folder up to her side and leading Holiday into Becca’s room. The door opening startling the distressed woman, Arcnote holds her hand out and gently greets Becca, asking if she’s ready to talk yet. With a missable nod, Becca allows the officers to take their seats opposite her, asking how she knows Holland before anything else. Only able to mutter the word ‘he’ three times before tears begin running again, Becca feels her nerves calmed when Arcnote places her hand over her own. “It’s alright to tell us” Arcnote says, “we’re not going to let him anywhere near you ever again if that’s what you’d like.” With another nod, Becca says all that Arcnote needs to describe the relationship between the two. “He found me after work a few months ago, as I was leaving” Becca begins, her words going faint as she proceeds to recall the following months. “He told me I’d be fine if I just got him what he wanted” Becca proceeds, her motions becoming impossible to hold back any longer, as the sobs begin, leaving Arcnote enamored with the conclusion to it. “What did he want, honey?” Arcnote asks, her thumb gliding over Becca’s hand as the tears run away from her lower eyelids. “He wanted Joshua Lane” Becca replies, leaving Holiday and Arcnote immediately curious to the reason. “Why did he want Joshua?” Holiday asks, watching the woman shake her head and try desperately to get a grip on her emotions. “Because he’s part of this… this group” Becca proceeds, immediately astonished when Holiday mentions the Pipeline by name. “Is Joshua Lane on the Pipeline’s kill list?” Holiday asks, Becca’s lip quivering again as she silently nods in agreement. “Why does the Pipeline want Joshua Lane?” Arcnote asks, beginning to fear that there are now multiple suspects for multiple crimes at hand, and they are only beginning to scratch the surface. “Is Joshua Lane part of the Pipeline?” Holiday asks, Arcnote’s curiosity being matched by Holiday’s failure to follow along. “No” Becca replies, pulling her hair behind her ears, “because Josh is killing them all off.” Her eyes widening, Arcnote looks to Holiday, watching his face turn as he begins to get back on track. “This is what Holland told you?” Arcnote asks, watching the woman shake her head in partial declination. “He didn’t tell me it, he confirmed it when I asked him” Becca replies. Asking who told her, Arcnote watches Becca grow confused, her tired eyes dashing across the tabletop. “He went by some weird name” Becca replies, going over jumbled words until she begins piecing together something that sounds close enough. “He said he couldn’t give me a name” Becca replies, “I just remember him telling me to call him something weird.” “Can you think of what it was?” Holiday asks, hoping this alternative name could lead them down clearing one of the many holes in the investigation. “I don’t really remember” Becca replies, “it was something like my guardian angel.” Convinced there’s little more to go off, Arcnote asks exactly who it was this figure said Josh had killed. “This rich guy, he was one of the Pipeline’s shot-callers” Becca replies, uttering an all-too familiar name to Holiday. “Warren Duane” Becca returns, Holiday’s face immediately growing suspicious. “Ms. Havish, former Lieutenant Eric Devine was already posthumously indicted of that crime” Holiday replies, watching Becca confidently shake her head in refusal. “No, Devine was in the Pipeline, too” Becca continues, peaking Holiday’s interest, sharing information still having yet to be released to the public. “Devine was investigating Josh because he pieced him to the murder and wanted to take care of the issue before it got out of hand” Becca continues, her explanation bringing Arcnote and Holiday into immediate concern. “Eventually they did get out of hand” Becca continues, readying herself to make a concluding statement until frenzied shouting begins blaring through within the corridor. “What the hell is that!?” Holiday exclaims, noting the volume of the hassle being loud enough to come through the concrete walls with almost perfect sound. From their chairs, Arcnote and Holiday rush for the door and enter the corridor, following officers into Holland’s space. Once inside, the sights of something completely foreign to an officer’s home-soil is found, Arcnote and Holiday’s eyes bursting open as they survey the area. In his chair, still handcuffed to the table, Holland’s corpse rests with its head pointed towards the ceiling and its mouth ajar. All ten fingers, both eyeballs, and every last tooth removed from his body, the blood from the act remaining pooled and splattered all around the room. “What the fuck happened in here!?” Holiday shouts, a nearby officer stating that one of the new recruits was walking by and saw the scene from the window. “Where’s the lawyer?” Arcnote asks, a second officer asking if she means the suspect. “No one else went through this room” the original officer states “whoever that guy was, he was the one who did it.” “Everyone hold on!” a third officer shouts, pulling a folded piece of paper from Holland’s mouth. Unfolding it, the officer reads aloud eight words written in red marker. “Hot head, can’t trust to keep mouth shut” the officer reads, Arcnote being forced to step out of the room to throw up in whatever corner of the corridor she can reach first. “Just breath through it” Holiday says, rubbing the woman’s back as she fixes her hair. Within moments, Arcnote goes on the move again, returning to Becca’s room to find the girl having disappeared. “Where’d she go?” Arcnote asks, her question uttered between deep breaths as Holiday instinctively radios for the entire station to be on the lookout for a girl matching Becca’s description. Stood there, staring at the seat no longer occupied by the woman, Arcnote and Holiday begin wondering how a routine landing could’ve turned into a tailspin this quickly. |
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