Stan hung up the phone, then told Jeff to lock up and raced to his home-- or what was left of it. The whole area was blocked off and a fire marshal let Stan through. Fire Chief Taylor was waiting for Stan. Stan got out of the car and walked over to the chief. Just then he saw one of the firefighters zipping up the remains. Stan raced over and stared at what was in front of him. Stan let out a scream. Someone went to grab Stan and then everything went black. 

Stan awoke in a hospital handcuffed to the bed. 

“Ahh... What happened?” Stan asked groggily. 

Stan faced a man with a badge but no uniform, who was obviously a detective. He answered, “Well from the report, you flipped out and took out six firefighters and four officers before being subdued. Which, guessing from your current state, imma assume by ‘subdued’ they mean they hit you with everything they had.”

Stan, who is now irritated, asks,“So why am I handcuffed? Am I being detained?” 

The detective answered, “It's just a precaution. There’s no telling what you would do once you were awake. Lucky for you, no one decided to press charges.”

Then a nurse came in and asked, “How are you feeling, Mr. Heartly?”

“Besides a headache, I'm fine. Thank you, though,” Stan responded in the most pleasant tone he could manage.

The nurse, obviously sympathizing with his tone, offered, “If you need anything just press the button.” As the nurse left, the detective walked over and uncuffed Stan. 

The detective obtained a business-like attitude then and said, “I need to ask you a few questions.”

Stan knew the protocol and did not want to waste time with this detective, so he responded, “My wife has no enemies. No, I don't have any idea who would target my family. Sure, my history with the games could have got me some enemies, but who they are, I don't know. Now if you don't mind, I have some grieving to do.”

The detective wrote Stan’s statement down on a pocket book, looked at Stan earnestly and said, “I’ll be in touch.”

Stan responded bleakly with, “You know where to find me.”

When Stan was able to check out of the hospital he went to the only place he had left--his gym. When Stan wasn't making the arrangements for the funeral, he spent his time in a drugged-out storm of emotions. The day before the funeral, Stan heard a knock on the door to his personal gym. Stan hopped up and stumbled over to the door wondering who could be visiting him. In a drugged confusion, Stan opened the door to a man he hadn't seen since the seven-year war. 

Stan looked wide-eyed at the man before him and asked, “Darrius?”

Dariűse gets an annoyed look on his face. “Yes, it’s me DARIÜSE,” Dariűse says to correct Stan.

Stan blinked his eyes repeatedly to make sure he was seeing this right. Then, as Stan reached his hand out to touch him, and make sure the drugs weren't really getting to him, Dariűse rushed in to hug Stan, giving him a big bear hug. 

Dariűse clears the lump now in his throat and says, “Great to see you old friend. Umm… sorry it couldn't be at a better time.”

Stan is still shocked, “What the fuck are you doing here? Wait, better question, how the hell did you know where to find me?”

Dariűse looks down, “Well, I heard about your wife. I am truly sorry for your loss. But, it has made big news and, well, I came to see you. No one should be alone during a time of loss.”

Stan, with a lump in his throat, says, “Thanks, I appreciate it, man.”

Dariűse looked around the gym, it looked like something had got into a fight with everything, and eventually won. 

“I see he is taking it as well as anyone else would,” Dariűse thought to himself. 

Stan, calmer now, says, “So how have you been man?”

Dariűse answers, "Good, not much happens in my village, thankfully." 

They both chuckle nervously and awkwardly as Stan takes them to the small dining area in his gym. Dariűse takes a seat and Stan holds up two shot glasses and asks, "Wanna drink?"

Dariűse replies, "Do you even need to ask?" They both laugh as Stan sits across from Dariűse and pours them shots. They drink their shots quickly. 

Stan, after finishing his shot, asks, "Ahhh, so how's the farm life?"

Dariűse says, very matter-of-factly, "I, personally, don't live on a farm, but life is quiet for the most part."

Stan contemplated that glumly and replied, "Maybe I should have moved to a village..."

Dariűse, concern on his face, said, "I'm sorry, my friend. I can't imagine the pain, but I'm here to help, so anything you need, you let me know, man."

Stan says, "Thanks, but I wouldn't even know where to start."

Dariűse reaches for the bottle of liquor and suggests, "Well, how about I start by pouring more shots?" They laugh as Dariűse pours another round of shots. 

Dariűse looks around the room and can't help but to ask, "So if you don't mind me asking, how did you come across all these luxuries?" 

They take their shots. Stan wears a grimace, and they both know it wasn't a result of the shot he just downed. "A lot of things I can't say I'm proud of my friend, and worst of all... my lifestyle is the cause of...all this," he says morosely. 

Dariűse could kind of understand. It's hard to see everything you have worked so hard for turn into the thing that brings you the most pain. They drink long into the night as Dariűse tries to lift his friend's spirits. 

The next day was the funeral. It was raining-- well more like storming-- anyways, it fit the mood. Stan said that it would be best if he and Dariűse waited till the funeral was over. 

Stan said, "Most of her family probably won't be happy to see me." So they waited and watched from a distance. 

Dariűse could feel there was something off about this day. Stan could too, but he didn't care-- nothing mattered as far as he was concerned. 

"Let death come and embrace me, for I have lost all love for life." He thinks to himself as he watches them lower his wife's casket. 

Dariűse could no longer shake the bad feeling that something was going to happen and decided to take a walk. He places a hand on Stan's shoulder and softly says, "I'm gonna leave you alone now so, you know... you can mourn in peace."

It was true. Dariűse did feel Stan needed to be alone to mourn in his way, but he also knew someone was watching, and he planned on taking care of them. The crowd had finally left. Stan just stood there in the rain for a moment looking at the head stone. 

After looking for a little while, Stan said, "Hey, sweetie..." His throat was thick, and he fought back tears as he tried to think of all the things he had planned to say to her, but at first all he could say was, "I'm sorry."

Tears slowly fell down his face. Finally Stan breaks down crying and screaming at the same time. "I'm sorry. I promise I gave it all up! I swear I didn't do anything! I was good!"

Stan begins to become hysterical as he cries and screams into the sky. Dariűse fights back tears as he hears his friend cry out in so much pain-- that type of pain that comes from a place where hope goes to die. 

Dariűse can't let his enemies know that his mind is not here in battle though. He must take out those watching while his friend mourns and he must do so without feeling. "Feelings have no place in war," he mutters to himself. Six shadowy figures watch Stan from a distance as they plan their perfect ambush. 

Dariűse, behind them now, asks, "You guys mind if I share some wise words from my village?"

The men are startled. "Where did he come from?" one of them says. 

"Does it matter? He has seen us, we have to kill him" the leader of the group responds. They all get ready to attack. 

Dariűse sighs and says, "I guess no one wants to hear me out." 

The first jumped high into the air, striking downward with all his might. Dariűse moved the upper part of his body no more than an inch, allowing his attacker to barely miss. As the sword comes down and the attacker lands, Dariűse rams his shoulder with all his might knocking the man backwards. 

Before the assassin can catch his footing, Dariűse throws a knife into the man's throat. All of the assassins try attacking this time, but Dariűse does a backflip throwing three more knives, easily killing two more assassins and striking another in the arm.

Dariűse offers again, "So about those words of wisdom?"

The leader and the uninjured assassin try attacking together, with one striking high and one low. Dariűse jumps in between the strikes making his body completely parallel with the ground, and he strikes one assassin with a hidden blade. As Dariűse lands and rolls he pulls out his Nodachi and cuts the leader in two with one swift swing. Dariűse wipes his blade and returns it. He looks over at the injured assassin.

Dariűse tells him, "Remember he who plots to hurt others often hurts himself."The assassin runs away in terror. Dariűse turns to go to check on Stan.

End of the Second Issue