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"The young master displays his prowess, master."

"But he still failed his first test."

"That doesn't prove anything, old man."

"It proves the same thing: our line always needs that first real push."

"Yeah. Hopefully his push won't be too hard on him."

"But master... Something you should know..."

"And what's that, my faithful servant?"

"He also has a wife, master."

"What, already? That's dangerous! A Protector ending his tenure so early? What's he thinking?!"

"Relax, old man, the guy must have his reasons. He's a ladies man, like I used to be."

"But this isn't good! If you-know-who picks up on it, it's going to spiral downhill! And you know what happens to a world without a Protector."

"I know, old man. You've told me a million times before."

---

It's been a few months. The air's getting colder and colder again. Winter's on its way, and so's something else too. For a while now, Evelyn's been on maternity leave. She's expecting. Has been ever since we...got together the night of that Christmas party last year. I just never knew it until recently, when I noticed her tummy getting a lot bigger than it's supposed to. She didn't tell me cause she didn't want to make me worry and we both had work to concentrate on. But she's in her late stages now and I told her to take time off so that she wouldn't have our kid in the middle of the office or something. I've been working my ass off ever since, worriedly waiting for the day that the hospital calls me with the news. I've already planned names. If her kid's a girl, I'll name her Mikaela, and if it's a boy, I'll name him Vincent Mitchell.

I'm so scared something will happen to her. My love, my dear.

My Evelyn.

---

The call came when I was just returning from a drug bust downtown. Me and Eddie took out another wing of the diMaggio drug operation that day, a small one but it made an impact nonetheless. I was just settling back into my chair when my phone buzzed. When I picked up the caller said she was from the hospital. I knew instantly what she called for. I grabbed my jacket and left without a word, though I never noticed Eddie and several of the team following right behind me. By the time I'd reached the hospital, the Crimes team knew too. By the time she had her baby, almost the entire level was out there waiting with me. When the doctor let me (and only me) into the holding room, I was overjoyed. She had a cute little baby in her arms. My kid.

It was a boy.

---

I took time off work to take care of my kid while Evelyn recovered and went back to work. It's the way we'd balance work and life: one of us would be active in the precinct while the other had time off to take care of the kid. We switched over every month, and the both of us trusted our teams enough to let them handle big cases on their own. In my case, I had Eddie to back me up and he was no slouch at crime fighting when I was at home feeding and changing Vince, and in hers she had her whole team of veterans to back her up when she was at home. Only on the weekends were the both of us home together, and the weekends were the happiest.

Time seemed to blur. Months went by without me noticing. By the time I realised it, my little Vincent was due for his first birthday. I held the party in my apartment, a small one limited to just me, Evey, Eddie and a few guys from the office. Even the chief showed up unannounced with a present for my dear little boy. I was just so content with the world, I even considered hanging up my badge to take care of Vince full time.

But then came a big case. One that was so big it pushed the limits of my endurance as a detective and as a parent.

One that would change my life forever.

---

The call came in one day while I was at home with Vincent. He was taking a few steps at a time and learning simple words, just like we had planned. I had him in my arms, cuddling him as he slept, when my phone buzzed on the table. I picked up the call. It was Evelyn, and she didn't sound happy at all.

"Daniel?"

"Honey? What's the matter, something wrong at work?"

"Yeah, um, listen, since you're the head of the Vice team, chief needs you down here now. We've got a major case and he wants all hands on deck."

That didn't sound good at all. The last time there was a case like this, it involved that Shank fella.

Shank. Sobering to remember him after all these years. He almost killed me that night, and he slaughtered so many for what, a chance at me? If he had wanted me so bad, he could've just ambushed me when I responded to a call or went on a case, but instead he went on a cop killing spree to attract my attention. His warning...I never paid attention to it at all, I just assumed it was something he said on a whim.

I focused back onto the present.

"Well what about Vince, sweety? Someone needs to take care of him while we're gone."

"I can handle that. I've already told chief that I'm letting my boys handle this one. Come to the precinct and bring Vee with you, I'll take him back home with me."

I smiled at her use of her pet name for Vince. It made him sound so adorable.

"Alright hun. I'll be quick."

"Better be. Chief's got his knickers in a twist with this one."

I hung up and carried Vincent to my room. I laid him down on the bed and changed. It wasn't long before I was out on the street and in the car, the boy fast asleep in the back seat.

---

I took a seat next to Riggs. Evelyn sat right next to me. Eddie had graciously offered the services of his own family to babysit Vincent for the duration of this case, since the chief insisted he have all hands on deck, especially his prized seniors.

The case was a big one. A Mafia calling card, stuck in a knife, was stuck in the back of one of our own. A Traffic detective investigating a routine accident wound up with a knife in his back and left to die. He survived, since it wasn't a lethal stab, but he wouldn't be walking for a while. A long, long while. The card, simply put, was a declaration of war against the NYPD. The diMaggios, obviously. Me and the Vice team had put an end to more than one family operation since we discovered their network. Now officers were being shot at in the streets and we had little leads or evidence pointing to their involvement other than the card. Even worse were the cops that did end up dead. A case related to this madness had emerged not long after the first shots were fired. A squad car with a load of two patrolmen was found idling on the street, windows broken. The men within were found dead, multiple gunshot wounds on each. Straight up shooting, but with a sick twist. On the car's dashboard sat a single, lone chess piece. A black pawn, engraved with the family crest. At first we thought it was a sick prank by a sick killer, until a week later when another car showed up, same thing. And then another. And another. And another. It reached a head when one of the Domestic Affairs detectives was found in the same situation, plugged like Swiss cheese with a chess piece on the dash, but instead of a pawn, this one was a rook. A promotion. Whoever this killer was, it was as if he treated every kill as a trophy. No wonder chief wanted everyone on deck. We had another paid killer and this time we knew who he was being paid by. Now all we needed to do was catch the bastard.

After the briefing we broke up into our teams and discussed tactics. Lab techs were already hard at work running tests on every single piece of evidence we found, so it was up to us to figure out how to draw out the killer, and most of our options weren't pretty. Most involved using someone as bait then watching our bait for any sign of the killer showing up for his kill. We quickly agreed that this wouldn't be a very good idea, so instead we put out a warning to all the street patrolmen, both on foot and in cars, to pack extra heat and to radio in if they had even the slightest suspicion that they were going to be attacked.

I went back to my team and we discussed our hits on the diMaggio turf. Evelyn followed with her team too. Eventually we came up with the hypothesis that the killings were in obvious retaliation for my team's relentless pursuit of our goal of bringing them down. They had the resources to dispatch a hired gun after us, and I wasn't too pleased about that. My entire would be in danger the moment they set foot outside. I had a sinking feeling that the diMaggios had an inside man in the precinct too, that was feeding them our every plan and every move. That could explain why our killer could vanish so quickly after a kill. Another possibility was that he had military grade hardware and was striking from a distance. Element of surprise plus almost untraceable. Results from the lab proved inconclusive. Bullets pulled from all the corpses spread a gamut of possible weapons, from rifles to pistols to submachine guns. It was almost as if this guy was a walking armoury, which made sense since he was on the diMaggio payroll. We had so much good stuff on him but no way to prove it. We were stumped.

Then one day we hit gold. Another car was hit, no survivors, but what the killer missed was the presence of the car's dashboard camera. It captured clear video of him shooting up the car's occupants. He was a hired gun alright, his face and profile matched my gut feeling. But we still couldn't identify him, so all we could do was put his picture out in the news and ask for witnesses.

We spent weeks churning through fake tips and useless information. I was getting tired of sifting through useless garbage when a call came through that pointed us in the right direction. A witness had seen the man in question a few days ago, heading into a neighbourhood ammunition store. The problem was that this store was in Brooklyn. I volunteered to travel out there alone, and the chief agreed. He told me he'd liase with a precinct in the borough and link me up with a detective from their side, involve them and maybe find more clues to root him out.

I met with the detective the very same day, in a Starbucks, of all places. He was a nice young man, sharp green eyes and a slick widow's peak. He dressed in sharp suits and was a very good puzzle solver, according to his resume. He was proving it too, a Rubix cube clicking and clacking away in his hands as I approached him. He placed the cube, solved and beat, on the table as I sat with a cup of coffee. I gestured at the cube and he smiled.

"You're good."

"Nah, been practicing."

We stood and shook hands.

"Detective Jonathan Hendrix, though everyone likes to call me Jimmy."

"Jimmy Hendrix, eh? Play the guitar?"

"Nah, piano man myself."

"Pleasure. Daniel Anderson, Vice."

"Pleasure's all mine, Daniel. I heard about your time in London. You've got a nice gal, don't mind me saying."

"Nah I agree with ya. She's nice."

"Right. Well I suppose you didn't stop by to talk about life, so let's get down to business."

"Yes, let's."

We grabbed our things and went outside. The air was cold with the coming winter, and I regretted not bringing a thicker jacket as Hendrix had.

"So your guy, right? He went to a gun store right around here. Bought lots of stuff, paid directly in cash. Owner says he got enough hardware what could start a small war down here. Disappears down the street, never saw him again. Got some form of ID though."

We walked down the street and round the corner. The store was inconspicuous, nestled between apartment blocks, but as we approached, I could see what he meant. The place was armed. Well armed. Second amendment eat your heart out armed. He knocked and we entered. The owner was a small, diminutive country woman that was busy polishing a handgun when we came. A flash of our badges brought her attention and she set the weapon away. Her accent, when she spoke, was smooth, a slow Tennessee drawl that didn't rake on your ears. Much.

"Now what can I do fer you two fine gentlemen?"

"Yes ma'am, we're detectives looking into a man that bought some weapons from you?"

"Oh you two are lookin' into that thing what where that man shot up a bunch of you fellers?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well that fella done did me a favour by buying that much stuff, but I'm sure you're looking for an identity thing. I had him note down his particulars on my receipt form in case he wanted a refund, standard thing I have to do, y'know. I'll get it, one sec."

She ducked down behind the counter and rummaged for a second, then came back up with a worn pink book. She flipped through the entries, obviously looking for our perp's receipt.

"I know it's here somewhere...here it is."

She showed us a receipt form with a scrawled signature and a name. I thought we had something, until I studied it closer.

"J. N. Doe..."

"John Doe. Shit."

"We're dealing with a crafty one. Shit."

Another dead end. He was professional, knew how to cover up his tracks perfectly. Not good. We thanked the lady and left. Hendrix drew a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Well so much for that then, eh?"

"Yeah no shit. Dead ends everywhere with this guy. Chief's not gonna be happy."

"Yeah yours and mine both pal."

I heard something. A very familiar click clack. Past Hendrix complaining about the case.

Where was it?

Everything slowed.

My eyes scanned the street.

There. Bike rider. Black tinted helmet. Automatic rifle.

Aimed at us.

I sprung at Hendrix and pulled him down with me.

A spray of gunfire etched a line into the storefront, shattering glass everywhere. The sound like firecrackers echoing through the whole block.

Shit I hope the lady in there was alright.

The biker kept firing, punching holes in the car in front of us. I pinned Hendrix down while my other hand scrambled for my pistol. He was screaming something I couldn't hear over the sound of gunfire. Then the fire stopped. I didn't waste time. I sprang up and took aim.

He was reloading.

I squeezed the trigger of my hand cannon.

The round whizzed past him and impacted a wall behind him.

He noticed that, finished reloading and leveled the rifle at me again.

Crap.

I ducked as more bullets tore into the car, punching and tearing into it like a blender. Again the shots stopped. I stood and fired a few more bullets at him, not really aiming this time. One of them must've clipped him cause I heard a grunt. A muffled grunt. He recoiled as a spray of blood shot from his arm, but he recovered right quick and reloaded one more time. I dove to the ground as rounds tore through the air above me. Then the shots stopped and I heard an engine starting. I stood to find him barrelling off on his bike, assault rifle abandoned on the street.

Everything caught up to me.

I pulled Hendrix to his feet as the store owner stormed outside, a shotgun in her hands.

"That varmint, if I ever catch him here again -"

"We'll handle him ma'am! Just get back inside, it ain't safe out here!"

I ran to our car, which thankfully was undamaged, and near leaped into the passenger seat. Hendrix ran and hopped behind the wheel and we were off like a shot. I grabbed the car's mic off its stand and keyed it in.

"Dispatch, this is Lima Whiskey Four Five Niner, we have shots fired, I repeat shots fired, currently in pursuit of suspect. He is on a black Kawasaki sports bike, no license plate, wearing a black jacket with a black tinted helmet, heading north on Fremantle towards Queens."

I clipped the mic back. Ahead of us the biker was weaving in and out of traffic in trying to lose us, but we were on his tail all the way. Hendrix was an amazing driver, to able to keep up with him. Then the guy pulled something really scary.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a machine pistol. Then he pointed it right at us and pulled the trigger.

The gun spat fire at us and I instinctively ducked down, feeling glass shards rain down on my back as he shot up the car. Hendrix kept on driving straight and true, and when the guy's gun emptied, I did the most logical thing.

I rolled down my window, leaned outside and shot back.

Bullets pinged off the back of the back of the bike as he swerved left to avoid me. He disappeared behind the side of a van and for a moment I thought he'd escaped, but no, there he was with a new magazine in his pistol, pointed straight at us again. But as he pulled the trigger, we swerved as a bus shot past us. Don't know what happened, but the next thing I knew he was right back there plugging holes in the side of the car. Hendrix turned back straight and got us behind the biker and I returned fire, finally getting us a break as I saw a bullet puncture his rear tyre. Instantly the bike started to slow and swerve erratically and the biker knew, cause he accelerated and shot round a corner and down an alley where our car couldn't follow. Hendrix slowed to a stop and I jumped out, gun reloaded and ready for action. Hendrix didn't follow me, so I stopped.

"Hey Hendrix, c'mon we're gonna lose him!"

He grunted and shook his hand at me.

"Go on ahead man, I'll be right behind you."

I smelled copper.

Uh oh.

I ran up to him and stared down through the window. His belly was dripping red. In a panic I threw open the door and helped him apply pressure to the wound.

"Shit dude you're hit. When?"

"On the street, driving. One of the bullets must've got past the door."

He winced as I helped him out of the car and sat him on the street. I threw off my jacket and pressed it against his belly, getting him to push down hard on it too. I scrambled back to the car and grabbed the radio.

"This is Lima Whiskey Four Five Niner, I have an officer down, repeat an officer down at 53rd, bleeding badly. Still in pursuit of original suspect, over."

I threw the mic back in and closed the door, my other hand reaching for my phone to dial 911, but Hendrix stopped me. "Never mind dude, I'll do that myself. You go get that asshole before he gets away."

I merely nodded and ran down the alley.

This asshole had killed many men already, I wasn't going to let him take one more.

---

The trail of blood went long, I thought this guy would've bled out by the time I found him, but no he kept on bleeding. The trail went cold a ways away at a nearby apartment block, but I could see that the bastard had climbed up the fire escape since there was blood on the ladder, so I followed. On the roof, there stood the gunman, busy tying a tourniquet around his wound. Without his jacket, he seemed a little scrawny for a cop killer, but as he noticed me and removed his helmet, I realised who I was staring at.

Shank.

He grinned his maniacal grin at me and shrugged.

"I left my knives at home, Daniel, I hope you don't mind."

I growled, lowering my disguise spell. I was all alone. This wouldn't matter, he knew who I was anyway. He chuckled and stood, stretching like a cat before it stalked its prey.

"It doesn't matter, Shank. Two years ago you damn near killed me. I spent three weeks in a hospital with tubes up my arm. Well tonight I'm gonna finish what you started."

I never noticed that night was already falling.

He grinned.

"So you're finally ready, Daniel?"

I didn't answer. He chuckled.

"I take that as a yes then. Well, have at you."

I growled and charged.

Everything slowed.

I threw a punch that he ducked under.

My knee raised to meet his chin.

He flipped backward and onto the floor. His feet shot out at my chest. I blocked it and stepped backward as he leapt to his feet. I took a step forward and threw another haymaker that he again ducked under, twisting round as I took an involuntary step forward.

His fist flew into my gut.

I doubled over, pain stabbing through my abdomen. I could barely see his foot shooting up at my face through the haze of pain.

Everything caught up to me.

I ended up on the floor, groaning in pain as I nursed a possibly broken nose, blood streaming down my face and matting my fur. He paced and prowled around me as I stifled a moan, struggling up onto my feet again. He tutted and shook a finger at me.

"Tut tut Daniel, you're better than that."

As I held my nose to stop the bleeding, I stared at him angrily.

"You're faster, stronger, more vicious and deadly than I. Come now, time's a wasting."

He giggled. I was getting sick of him.

"Tick tock Daniel. Every second you waste is a second you'll never get back. Don't waste time here with me, because I'm sure you have more important things to do."

I was getting sick of his sing-song voice.

"You already know what I'm talking about Daniel. Your adrenaline rushes...do you really think it's adrenaline that's making your sense of time slow?"

He knows?

I never thought about it, but in all the times I was in a combat situation, I could feel my pace speeding up as everything slowed. I reacted faster, moved faster, hit harder, often without thinking. Was this what he meant?

I guess he saw comprehension in my eyes, cause he charged to attack me again, and as if by instinct, everything slowed.

I saw him feint to the left and come from down low and to the right. His fist flew up to meet my chin and mine came up to intercept. I caught the strike and swung my own, a fist from on high crashing down into the side of his jaw. My knee shot up and smacked into his chin and I drove my fist straight into his nose. I felt cartilage crumple as he stumbled backward, blood spraying from his definitely broken nose. I closed in, wound up a haymaker and threw it, crumpling him to the floor in a heap.

Everything sped up. By golly he was right.

But did that mean he was right about everything else he said to me?

He laughed a sick, twisted laugh.

"That's much better, Daniel. Now why don't you go ahead and finish the job, hmm?"

I stared at him. He wanted me to kill him. After all that he'd put the policemen through? I felt like it. But I knew that justice still had to be served. I took my zip ties from my pocket, turned him over onto his back, wrapped a tie round his wrists and zipped it up tight. I got off his back and dialed Eddie's number, noting strangely that I had several missed calls from him, but as the phone rang, I heard Shank laughing behind me.

"Oh you fool! You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

I shut his voice out as Eddie picked up.

"Dude, where were you?"

"Eddie listen to me, I'm on the roof of an apartment in lower Queens and I've got our killer in cuffs. You need to get down here with a car so we can bring him in, like, now."

"Yeah cool dude, but listen, I was trying to get you earlier. Evelyn ran off earlier cause she got a call from your apartment about the kid. Sounded important, so she rushed off in a hurry. She hasn't come back since."

My heart froze.

"Do you know where she is now?"

"At your apartment, probably. I tried calling her on her cell but she ain't picking up."

I thanked Eddie and hung up. Shank still laughed behind me. I glared at him and growled softly.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh many things, dear Daniel. For instance, do you know where you are right now?"

I got closer and put my foot against his neck. He choked.

"Yeah I do. I'm this close from breaking your fucking neck."

At all that he still managed a chuckle.

"Oh you naive fool. Have you so lost yourself in your desire for vengeance that you've lost sight of your humanity?"

He was right. A red haze clouded my thoughts, and as I cleared it from my mind, several thoughts came to me. First I realised that it was night time, quite early but it was still dark. Secondly I was breathing extremely heavily, I felt very drained, perhaps from all the rushes I had in the last few hours. Thirdly...

I recognised this roof and the views. This was my apartment block.

Which meant...

I went pale. My heart leaped into my throat.

Fuck.

I forgot all about Shank and ran straight for the roof access door. All the while he was laughing at me, a maniacal cackle that echoed in my ears long after I'd left him alone on the roof.

I rushed downstairs. Pushed thoughts out of my head.

Reached my apartment.

Door ajar.

Blood.

Went inside.

Oh no no no no god no

Evelyn, sprawled on the floor, a knife in her gut. Across the hall, Vince, long gone, a knife in his small, diminutive chest.

I went blank.

Fell to my knees.

Never noticed Eddie coming up behind me, his shock and horror. How he shook me, tried to get me to my senses. How he checked on Vince, then Evey, hoping to God he found something. But I already knew that they were beyond help.

They were dead. And it was all my fault.