Where do you take your best friend after almost dying at the hands of a lunatic biker gang? For most people, home, or even a hospital would be reasonable. But me? I drove us to a diner.

Bauer's Diner was across the street from my place in Old Town. It used to be a frequent haunt of mine before I left the force. Marv Bauer himself, a plump, red-faced balding guy in his early sixties, managed the stove while his short, gray-haired wife, Ling, took care of the customers. I used to eat breakfast there so often the place felt more like a second home than a restaurant.

Marv and Ling had always been good for a casual morning chat before I drove to the station and, to be honest, I would go for their company as much as I would for the good food. Over the past month I had started coming around again, and although I was sure they had heard about Maria's death, they never pressed me on the details which I appreciated. They’re good people.

So, I felt kind of bad when Daniel and I walked through their front door, looking like death warmed over and dripping blood all over the place.

I had parked on the street and we limped into the establishment taking the booth furthest from the door, sitting on the benches without speaking to each other. It took me a few minutes to convince a worried Ling we didn't need an ambulance, after which she brought me a menu, and Daniel an Ice pack with a slice of raw ginger root.

"Rub this on your head," she said forcibly pointing to the lump on his head. Daniel looked at her, slightly confused.

"Do what the lady says," I cautioned.

He took the ginger and smiled feebly.

Ling looked me up and down, "Coffee?" she asked.

"Yes please.”

"Creamer or aspirin?" she asked casually.

God bless her, "Aspirin.”

Ling nodded and walked back to the counter.

Daniel sniffed the ginger, put it down and iced the goose egg growing out of his forehead. I started to speak, but he held up a hand interrupting me.

"If you try to apologize right now I will punch you," he said.

I closed my mouth.

Moments later Ling returned with two coffees and a pair of aspirin. I nodded gratefully and she squeezed my shoulder before walking away.

I had already texted Finnick our location before we got to the diner. He said he was on his way, so Daniel and I waited in tired silence.

I laid my hands on the table, rubbing bloodied knuckles trying to get them to stop shaking. My whole body was one giant raw nerve, exposed and sensitive to the slightest sound. It was horrible. I never used to be so on edge after a fight, but things had been different since Maria.

I looked at Daniel as he gazed out the window to the old streets. After a while, he finally spoke.

"...The apartment riots, seriously?" He said to the window, shaking his head.

I bit down on my lip to stop an ill-timed smile from creeping across my face and cleared my throat, "worked didn't it?"

Daniel glared at me sideways and removed the ice from his head, pointing at his lump.

I couldn't help it. I let out a deranged snort. He glared, then turned away trying to hide his own smile.

"Good shot by the way," I said, still grinning.

He shook his head again, "You do remember what happened at the riot was an accident, right?" He chortled.

I shrugged.

The tension eased between us and I picked up my coffee when the bell over the diner door rang. I looked up as Finnick crossed the floor toward our booth. He walked up and dropped his shotgun on the table with a clack, then looked down at Daniel.

"Skootch," he said.

Daniel obliged and Finnick slid in next to him, grabbing Daniel's mug and downing the coffee.

There was a sudden scuffling of chairs, and I looked up catching sight of Ling from behind the counter. She threw her hands up and looked around the lobby while Marv poked his head out curiously from the kitchen.

I followed her gaze and saw the few other customers in the place, hurriedly gathering their things and leaving, casting Finnick and his shotgun worried looks as they went. I grimaced and mouthed "sorry" to her over Finnicks head. She just rolled her eyes and went about settling bills.

"You were told to stay away from the Acolytes Acker." Finnck said after putting the mug down.

Daniel tensed, "he was a violent wanted felon sir, why should we let him walk?" he said defiantly.

Finnick's eyes bounced from his shotgun, back to Daniel, "does it look like I let him walk? That's not the point. You shouldn't have gone in like that."

"Why are cops being told to avoid a gang?" I interrupted.

Finnick's attention shifted from Daniel to me. He sighed, "Remember that raid a few weeks back?" he asked, turning back to Daniel.

Daniel nodded slowly, "How could I forget? I was out with the little girl's body for hours," he said slumping in his seat.

Finnick put a cigarette between his lips and clicked open his zippo, making Ling scowl in the background.

"Yeah," he said between puffs, "well here's the thing. The mayor's new task force that ran that raid is a farce. Those three assholes are putting the heat on a bunch of low-level gangs and making record-breaking busts for some serious crimes based on anonymous tips they pull out of their asses.”

I mulled that over, "You think they're framing other gangs to protect the Acolytes?"

Finnick pointed at me, then to his nose before grabbing the mug out of my hands.

“Why?”

He took a gulp of my coffee and set the mug down. It was odd, but it felt like he was actively avoiding my eyes when he spoke. “The Chief got a tip, months ago. It said there were people on the force involved in the missing person’s cases. It wasn’t enough to act on, but details are starting to mount up. And more and more of it points to someone in the department working with the Acolytes.” He turned to Daniel, “that memo that went out telling patrol to steer clear was from them.”

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Daniel shook his head, "Enzo sent that memo," he corrected.

Finnick flicked ashes into Daniel's empty coffee mug and gave him a knowing look. Daniel's eyes widened.

"The Mayor, the Assistant Chief, a team of detectives-" he ticked off.

"And God knows who else," Finnick added. "You're suspended Daniel," he said, changing the topic abruptly.

Daniel stiffened and sat up straight, "What! Why?"

Finnick blew out a puff of smoke, "Because the Chief and I are running a shadow operation to uproot this shit, and you two knuckleheads just kicked a goddamn hornet's nest in my face."

Daniel slumped in his seat.

"So, why did you help us then?" I asked.

Finnick's brow furrowed and he blinked several times. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and leaned in glaring at me, clearly offended by my dumb question.

"I'm not about to let an army of criminals think they can get away with blasting honest cops." He said, irritably.

Finnicks phone buzzed in his pocket. He leaned back in his seat, dug it out of his coat, and looked at the screen.

Stumping his cigarette out on the table, he grabbed his shotgun and stood up. "We're clear, no one followed you. Go home Daniel, and hug your family. That was a fucking close shave today."

Finnick turned to leave but stopped, glancing back over his shoulder, "Say hi to Chuck for me John."

He walked to the door and left.

In the wake of Finnick's departure, Daniel refused my offer of a ride home and called his wife to pick him up instead. He wouldn't speak to me while we waited for her. He wouldn't even look at me, and I couldn't blame him. When she arrived, he got up and walked out without a word. I understood. He had a family to care for and I had just sabotaged his ability to provide for them.

After Daniel and Nicole pulled away, I paid for the coffee (plus a large tip I really couldn't afford) and made my way across the street to my apartment.

I was brooding over the loss of my last friend as I climbed up the stairs and walked through the front door, where I was greeted by Leo standing in the middle of the room. I hung my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

"No," I said to the floor, "no, not now please." I walked past him and flopped on my recliner.

Leo turned to me, unphased, "Hello Leo, how are you?" he said to himself, "I am well John, Did you have a vision today? Care to talk about it?" He held his hand out towards me and smiled, waiting for me to talk.

I scowled at him, "Yeah I did, plus, you know I almost died, but whatever," I said bitterly. "Where the hell were you anyway? You know I can't do your bidding if I'm dead right?"

Leo waved a hand dismissively, "Almost dying is what life is about," he said, "do you intend to sit in the corner and weep for another six months?"

I recoiled in my seat as though he had slapped me. Heat rose in my face and I shot out of my chair. I stormed across the room, "don’t you ever talk to me like that!" I screamed in his incorporeal face.

I wanted so badly to hit the dapper son of a bitch, but my anger meant nothing to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right, you must be suffering so much worse than those dozens of raped women." His smile evaporated and his humored expression darkened.

My indignation faltered and I stepped back.

I was still fuming, still rattled from what happened in the bar, and reeling from the revelation of corruption sweeping over the city. But mixed in with all of that was the realization that Leo was right.

I turned my back on him and rubbed my face, willing my exhausted brain to process everything. Flashes of Jeb’s victims floated to the surface of my consciousness, and I tried to force them back down. They were so vivid, and there were so many of them.

What Finnick had told us disturbed me deeply. My department was compromised, and the Acolytes were protected... All those women, all those victims missing. They and their families were never going to see justice. I turned and faced Leo again.

"Fine," I said, "Yes I had a vision. Lots of them actually, but you already knew that." I held on to my defiant tone, the last vestige of control left to me. "But we have a new problem. This guy, Jeb, and his gang are in bed with corrupt cops. How do I put him away when the system won't hold him?"

Slowly Leo nodded, accepting my gruff compliance. "Yes, the rise in villainy here is vexing," he said. "These Acolytes, no longer fear your laws.”

He paced the room briefly, stopping at my door. He glanced down at my family's heirloom chest, then back at me, "So you must give them something else to fear..."

Puzzled, I crossed the room to stand with him in front of the old trunk. "You mean the nightstick?" I asked him, opening the trunk.

Leo watched over my shoulder, "Your Uncle said, your kin have been protecting this city since its founding. What could your forebears teach you at this moment?" He asked.

Confused by his crypticism, I rummaged through the chest anyway to humor him. Inside was my great-great-grandfather's old uniform; a double-breasted knee length blue wool frock coat, leather belt with a loop for the baton, tall boots, and an old bowler hat.

I scrounged through the contents when my hands brushed across a string of beads near the bottom. Curious, I picked up the beads, and as I saw them my heart skipped a beat.

It was my dad's old rosary. I hadn't seen it since he died, and I had no idea my uncle had kept it.

I recalled as a kid, my dad teaching me the Hail Mary prayer. He used to say that everyone deserved to be saved, which was why God made policemen... to help those in need. I swallowed hard and put the rosary back in the trunk.

Already emotionally spent from the day, falling onto a memory of my dad was too much. I turned away from Leo so he wouldn't see my watery eyes and walked over to the collage on the wall, distracting myself with the photos of gang members pinned there.

Sweeping over pictures of deplorable men, the ache I felt for my father intertwined with my current circumstance.

All those women Jeb had hurt, I could feel them in my head. Some were alive while others, I sensed, were not... But why had I seen the vision? The talisman was warning me, he was going to do it again.

Dad believed it was his purpose to help people. This curse of mine, this... calling... was beckoning me to do the same. I walked back to the chest, contemplating its contents. What had Uncle Chuck said? We were lawmen, It was the spirit of our kin.

Back at the bar, Finnick had intervened as much to teach the gang a lesson as to save us. The Acolytes thought they were immune from the law, free to do whatever they wanted. And when evil men thought they were free from consequence, it was the innocent who suffered most. How many others were still missing? How many had the Acolytes taken? And who could people turn too if cops were involved as well?

The fear I felt for my own safety evaporated, giving way to smoldering anger. Evil men were terrorizing my city, my dad's city... our home... And they were using the badge to do it.

I took out the old uniform from the trunk and held it up. Those bikers had laughed at Daniel when he tried to take Zacharia in. The uniform, the badge, meant nothing to them. They believed they had control of police power now.

But cops were never supposed to be thugs or simple instruments of brute force. At its core, the idea of the officer was supposed to represent something deeper, a symbol of order amid chaos, the embodiment of justice.

It was supposed to bring hope.

I was still uncertain about my role in Leo's schemes, and I barely understood the threat that Watchers posed, but as I pondered the problem before me, one thought grew ever clear in my mind. People were suffering, and I had the power to do something about it.

Though, if I was going to go after thugs and murderers, there was only one way I knew how to do it.

“Alright,” I said, “we go after them, stop them if we can. But stopping a criminal isn't just about catching one guy. It's about sending a message to all the other assholes who would do the same.”

I pulled the talisman from my pocket and pinned it to the coat where an officer's badge should be. “So, If we're really going to do this, then that's how. By sending a message."

Leo watched me with growing interest, "oh?" He asked, "What message?"

I pulled on the coat, the heavy wool draping below my knees, then picked up the old leather belt, and buckled it around my waist. I donned the worn derby hat and turned to Leo, adorned in my ancestor's vestments. Pouring a small effort of will into the talisman, the sapphire glowed on my chest and the nightstick leaped out of the trunk into my outstretched hand. I looked down at the ancient truncheon, as a blue glow emanated through the wood grain.

“If you don't fear the law," I said. "You will fear justice..."

Leo's face split into a wide smile as a low, deep rumbling laugh rolled up from his chest, "Now we're talking!"