A dark caption.

"What do you mean you can't make the case?" Lieutenant Hollens asked DA Cynthia Rhinehart.

"Well, thanks to what happened to me," she said. "Those witnesses we had aren't exactly willing to testify. They figure if we can't protect our own, we can't protect them."

"Hell, that's not fair..." Detective Summers started to say before Cynthia cut him off.

"Oh yes it is!" She exclaimed, pointing at the incision on her forehead. "Think they didn't hear about this? That the DA got sliced by an known hitter? I'm lucky he didn't go any deeper, John!"

At that, Detective Summers stopped talking and frowned. She was right.

"Look, I'm not blaming any of you. I'm not." She said. "But what happened doesn't exactly fill our witnesses with confidence, would it? We needed them to tie it all together, and without them the case is far too weak to survive. It's over."

A few minutes later the detectives saw Cynthia walk out of the police precinct, knowing she was right but hating that all of this was for nothing now. All that work, that effort, undone by a hitman who didn't even survive the encounter! How she stopped him no one had yet figured out.

And no one would, Curtis thought as he walked away, making sure to keep up in character as he walked toward Cynthia's car. In truth, she had never survived that night. Her brain had been removed and his brain put in her head. A bit of staging and a paid off doctor and coroner was all it took for one of their own to infiltrate the district attorney's office and be sure the case went nowhere.

He'd be doing this for the forseeable future. Cynthia Rhinehart had been very well-positioned, his associates knew having someone in that office would be of immense value, and they'd exploit that as long as they could.