Later that night, Jocelyn’s party was being held at the brand-new penthouse suite she just purchased in upper Manhattan. Many local celebrities and politicians were there in attendance. To much disappointment, it was a dry party, which means no alcohol of any kind. However, the food was excellent and delicious. They also had a live band playing in the background.

Cherie arrived fashionably late in her black one-piece chiffon cocktail dress with matching stiletto heels. She did turn a lot of heads in that party, but she was not the biggest attraction. It was Jocelyn Shane and all of her grandstanding glory. Cherie was in the crowd as Jocelyn was addressing them.

“As you well know, I promised to gather all these red arrows and put them in my little quiver for safekeeping.” Jocelyn deadpans as her joke received a couple of chuckles in the audience.

Mercifully, she continued, “But I digress, I want to say thank you all for all of your support.”

“What about Memento Dark? Any gifts you want to give him?” A reporter in the audience questioned as this guide a collective gasp amongst the crowd.

But Jocelyn just grinned, “Yes, a pair of handcuffs. Hell, I’ll even put them on myself.”

Again, this got a few laughs, but this was not really a laughing matter. Even Cherie didn’t find that little joke funny either, knowing full well what costed them in the end.

“Here is another question for you, counselor, when are you going to marry your boyfriend?” A male reporter asked.

Jocelyn shrugged, “What boyfriend?”

Finally, the whole crowd laughed at her joke. Seeing Cherie in the audience, she stepped down from the stage and approached her.

“Cherie, you look absolutely stunning,” Jocelyn commented.

“Appropriately, I know you want to put on a good show,” Cherie admired.

“Well, go on and have some fun--” suddenly, Jocelyn was caught off by a collective screaming of young girls running towards the other side of the penthouse.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Jocelyn wondered as she and Cherie followed the ruckus. However, they met up with a disgruntled Jonathan who was dressed in a tuxedo. With his head down in his arms crossed, he had a scowl on his face.

Cherie but wondered what was going on with him, “JoJo, what happened?”

Jonathan lifted his head and stared dead in Cherie’s face as he replied, “Who do you think?”

Cherie and Jocelyn walk towards the commotion. Only to see a handsome young man in a tuxedo, huddled around a bunch of screaming teenage girls. He had shoulder-length black hair and golden-brown eyes. He was also tall and buff in appearance.

Immediately, Jocelyn recognized this man, “what the hell is little Morrie doing here?!”

“Is that Mordechai Zayne?” Cherie questioned while blushing. “I mean, it’s been years since I’ve seen him up close. Good Lord, he has become what dreams are made of,” Cherie complemented.

“Yeah, wet dreams…” Jocelyn insults while heading to the eye of the storm, which was Mordecai himself. “Mordechai. I didn’t know you’re going to come. It’s not past your bedtime, is it?”

The joke didn’t go over so well as it was met by silence.

Mordechai took it and strive as he came back with its own, “well, the luck you have been having as of late, you should be happy that an ‘Angel’ is by your side.”

Even though Mordechai’s humor is a bit on the dry side, at least it got a genuinely funny reaction from everyone within earshot.

Still, with a smile on her face, Jocelyn tried her best not to snap, “why are you here, Mordechai? You know I don’t like you or your brother.”

“What are you, gay?” A random female teenager heckled in the crowd.

“Whoever said that among you, can go fuck themselves!” Jocelyn defended.

“Actually, I reached out and invited them!” Cherie admitted while this got an adverse reaction from Jocelyn. So much she had to pull Cherie aside so they can talk face-to-face.

“Cherie, what are you doing? You know me, and the Zayne family are at odds,” Jocelyn pointed out.

“And whose fault is that? Let me guess… Um, yours!” Cherie bullied. “And you can’t buy yourself out of this one. You know what you did was wrong back then. And besides, you need all the positive press you can get after that little stunt you pulled--”

“What, for doing my job?!” Jocelyn eagerly defended.

“You, burning twelve policemen and sending many of our troops to die in London, all because you want to prove a point that you were inadequate of doing what was necessary, and that was cooperation.”

“I am so sick and tired of everybody throwing that in my face!” Jocelyn gives up. “What you want me to do?!”

Cherie just shook her head in disbelief, “nothing, absolutely nothing…” Cherie walks away from Jocelyn as she regroups herself and approaches Mordechai.

Jocelyn decided to get some air herself as she takes solace to the balcony. All alone in the dark, cold night, Jonathan followed her outside to give her some company, “I don’t care what a bunch of teenagers have to say about what you did back then, counselor. You did what anybody else would’ve done!”

Jocelyn scoffed at his comforting words, “politics... You know, JoJo, I was never like this before. Growing up in Orange County, my father was a helicopter pilot in the Vietnam War…” As Jocelyn was reminiscing about the good old days back home in California, she came to the stark yet obvious realization, “I am not some white knight of humanity, JoJo. I am just as evil as everyone else.”

“Don’t believe what Cherie and the others have to say. You are a good person,” Jonathan comforted, even being so bold as to approach her and rest his hand on her shoulder.

Feeling his warm touch in the cold autumn air was indeed welcoming. But deep down in their heart, she didn’t deserve it, “you’re too kind, Detective. But you have no idea who I am and what I had to give up just to receive all of this.”

“You are a hero to the people who are afraid of these monsters,” Jonathan said.

However, Jocelyn shakes her head in disagreement, “my mother and I were both professional wrestling fans. I say we were, because of an incident that happened when I was just a little girl. One day, I met my favorite wrestler. He was the good guy, but they call them babyfaces. I used to buy all this merchandise, I used to follow his so-called mottos, and I even emulated what he usually does in the ring before he used to defeat his opponents.”

Jonathan didn’t know what to make of this swift anecdotal passage as Jocelyn continued, “well, one day we went to a show along with my sister. She just turned 18 during that time, and I was only nine. That said wrestler went up to me and stuck his hand out for a high five. I gave him that high five, and I was so happy to see him. After the show, I tried to find my sister. And I found her with my favorite wrestler. They were having sex backstage where nobody was looking. They thought nobody was looking, but I was, and I was mortified.”

“Damn…” Jonathan grimaced.

“After they were ‘finished,’ they pretended that nothing happened. She pretended as long as she could, but when her stomach got bigger and bigger…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that little story, so she tried to become a bit literal of what she wanted to say. “JoJo, the point is that heroes do not exist in this world. They're just characters and ideals. Nothing more and nothing less. And if you believe in your heroes and you see them for who they are, they will always break your heart…”

After that stark warning, Jocelyn rejoined everybody at the party who is having a great time. She was supposed to be the epicenter of this event, but Mordechai was instead being surrounded by a group of teenage women. But it usually happened by accident since he is so genuinely likable to a fault.

Flirtatiously, Cherie crossed her legs while she was sitting next to Mordechai on the sofa while they were talking, “so Mordecai, with that doctrine’s degree of yours, should we call you ‘Dr. Zayne’ now?”

“Many people who would earn doctrine’s degrees don’t usually go by that suffix and would rather have their educational status be unknown,” Mordechai answered the softball question.

But this was just small talk since Cherie was too busy marveling at Mordechai’s buff physique underneath his tuxedo. But she wasn’t the only one, almost every female was doing the same thing, so she wasn’t wholly guilty.

It would be remiss if Cherie didn’t make her move, and so she did, “I’m trying to fine-tune my workout regiment, what gives you such an amazing body?”

Mordechai almost choked on his own spit when he heard that question. Yet, he recovered, “I guess you can say I have a family who is well-versed in physical fitness. What works for me doesn’t really work for everyone…”

Cherie giving a seductive smile while leaning in, “Interesting… You don’t think anybody can handle it?”

As Memento Dark, he had faced hard-core psychotics regularly. Yet dealing with a pushy female teenager was still challenging for him, “I… It’s a pretty intense w-workout, so--”

“Stop hogging all the hotness and let us have a turn,” one of the ladies spoke out loud to Cherie as the crowd of ladies laughed along with him.

But playtime was over as Jocelyn came between the two, “you do realize she’s 16, and she’s too young for you. This isn’t Abu Dhabi, little Morrie!”

Not paying much attention to her insults, Mordechai just smirked.

“Like I said: gay,” one of the teenage girls heckled.

“Oh, keep your panties on!” Joycelyn lashed out to the crowd.

Then a short and stocky man with short black hair and green eyes and five o clock shadow rushed towards Joycelyn holding a piece of paper, “counselor!”

Joycelyn turns around to see a man who is not out of breath and disheveled, “Rodney, you look like a pack of wolf girls are running after you. Take a deep breath,” she deadpans.

“Rodney?” Mordechai wondered.

“Rodney Callens, Joycelyn’s campaign manager,” Cherie answered as Mordechai nodded.

Rodney had been more than just a campaign manager wearing so many hats to mold someone like Joycelyn at least likable to the public, but this might ruin her, “I just received word from the judge! Amy Winston and her men have been released!”

“WHAT?!” Joycelyn screamed as she snatches the paper out of his hand and reads it.

“It was something about it being an illegal operation and that the initial judge didn’t sign off on it in time. Winston… Winston and most of her crew left country hours ago… I’m sorry, J.J.…” Rodney reported.

Mordechai hung his head in shame as something simple as getting a judge to sign a search warrant didn’t cross Joycelyn’s mind. Because of that simple blunder, the new Killer Queen Amy Winston and the rest of her squad are free due to a technicality.

Joycelyn couldn’t blame anyone but herself, but she will find some reasons when flew into another rage, “NO! THAT MISERABLE COW FUCKER ALWAYS HAD IT OUT FOR ME THE MOMENT I DIDN’T BEND OVER ON HIS DESK! BLOOM, MERCY, HENNESSY, ALL OF THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS ARE TRYING TO RUIN ME ON PURPOSE!” She even went on to grab Rodney by the collar. “I WILL NOT LET THEM FUCK ME OVER! YOU HEAR ME!? I WILL SKIN THEM ALIVE AND PUT THEIR FUCKING HEADS ON A STICK!”

This scared everyone accepts Mordechai as he was fed up with her harsh attitude. He rose from the couch and approached the two with conviction, “Take it easy, counselor. You don’t have to take it out of him.”

In the corner of Joycelyn’s eye, she turned her attention to Mordechai, letting Rodney go, “SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU MUSCLEBOUND TWINK!” she growled as she threw a punch at him.

Fortunately, Cherie countered the punch by catching it with her hands as she got into Joycelyn’s face, “Morrie asked you nicely to calm down, counselor! Now, I am telling you!” She demanded.

Seeing Cherie’s face gradually made her come to her senses. She felt a little dizzy as she staggered a few steps backward. Sadly, she made another scene and now with all of the reporters in attendance. This did not bode well for the front-runner. Mordechai acted like he was scared of her, but deep down, he wasn’t as he was observing her behavior.

Jonathan rushed in and helped Joycelyn leave the living room with Cherie and Rodney trailing behind. Mordechai tried to follow them but was cut off by a group of young ladies.

One of them was a curvy Elven female with dark gray hair and purple highlights and dark green eyes wearing a modest one-piece emerald green dress as introduced herself, “That was very brave of you, Dr. Zayne. Marguerite Fuchs from the 1300 podcast.”

“Marguerite Fuchs, I listen to you all the time!” Mordechai recognizes.

Marguerite blushes at this recognition, “t-thanks, Dr. Zayne. I was going to ask for an exclusive with the Joycelyn Shane, but that’s not going to happen. So, I was wondering if you want one instead?” She winks with a seductive smile.

Oh, dear… Mordechai thought. He wanted to catch the conversation with four in the other room, but I guess that won’t be possible now. But at least he gets to talk to one of his favorite podcasters.