The next day as he walked in to work, Wyatt was surprised first by the large number of patrol cars parked nearby the department, and then by the crowd of police that were loitering outside. There was supposed to be enough floor space in the meeting room upstairs to handle every policeman on every shift, and although it would have been crowded and some people might have been caught behind pillars or whatnot, there shouldn't have been any spillover into the main floor, let alone outside. Amongst the policemen hanging around outside chatting to each other, Wyatt saw some badges from different precincts, but there were no major occasions for that day, and no riot gear on anybody, which meant only one thing.

Manhunt.

Immediately Wyatt cursed himself for not checking the news that morning. It had been a quiet breakfast between him and his sister, and while there was still an awkward feeling lingering there, he'd stayed at the table out of a feeling of obligation, even though they said nothing of any real value. He could have taken the opportunity to read a newspaper or surf the internet or listen to the radio, rather than sitting there staring at his unopened scrapbook and letting toast grew colder as he did nothing but feel sorry for himself. Later, he'd even gone out for a walk, trying not to think about the surreal events from the night before, and as he looped around the Lomaine shopping complex he finally realized the funny futile irony in trying not to think about something -- that there was an inherent guarantee that you won't be able to think about anything else. When he got home, he tried flipping through the scrapbook to try to see if there was a possible connection to the stranger that saved them the night before, or if it really had been just a decoy tactic. Invariably, though, thinking about it just stirred up images of the four attackers, his sister being so close to rape and, if their threats had any force behind them, butchery and... He couldn't escape that image, and it was so terrible that he forced himself to go into work early, in the hopes that something there might get his mind off things, even if it was Kent's mockery.

From the looks of it, though, Kent was probably lost somewhere in the sea of officers inside.

Wyatt slipped through the loitering and gossiping policemen to get through to the front door. If there was an advantage to being small, it was times like these.

"-find this guy? He only operates at night, from the looks of-"

"-stupid wild goose chase. It's busy work, that's all it-"

"-the whole point. Get him before there's another attack, or else-"

The archer. It was a manhunt for the archer.

When Wyatt finally got through the doors, he saw that the main office downstairs was packed as well, and there were even people already sitting on top of his desk. Everybody's attention seemed to be leaning towards the rear stairs that led up to the second floor, but from the looks of it, nobody was going to be getting in any further. He shuffled his way over to the secretary's desk. As usual, her computer screen showed rows of cards.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The secretary looked over at him quickly. "The Mayor is coming by."

"No kidding?" he asked.

The secretary didn't respond, as she calmly went back to her Solitaire.

After looking around and seeing nothing but shoulders everywhere, he noticed the empty garbage pail behind the secretary's desk. Shrugging, he reached down, turned it over, and stepped up onto the back of it. It was an improvement, and he could see that people coming from the copy room out back had started passing around sheets of paper with a sketch on them. None of them were close enough for him to see, but at first glance it seemed that the face was of a severely underweight, unshaven guy in his forties, looking out with an angry expression of somebody who was being kept from getting his next taste of meth.

That seemed wrong to Wyatt. Sure, the guy in the sketch looked like he had a grudge to keep, but everything else felt off, although mentally he couldn't put his finger on it. He thought back to the scrapbook at home, and while he knew he'd be adding this sketch to it anyways, he knew it wouldn't fit.

Soon enough a murmuring broke out around the crowd, and many of the heads turned towards the main doorway. Shifting around awkwardly atop the overturned garbage pail, Wyatt was able to get a peak out one of the windows. He saw a black stretch limousine pull up, and the crowd of policemen moved aside to create a path right at the doorway. The door opened, and out came three figures -- it was Mayor Ramsay, Gerald Adams from the DA's office, and a third man that Wyatt didn't recognize right away. John Ramsay, a handsome middle-aged man who still had all his hair, was in a dark blue suit minus the tie -- the formal/casual look being all the rage in politics right now -- and bearing that same mixed expression of happiness and satisfaction that was all over his new posters throughout the city. Gerald Adams was buzzing all about him, in that way that powerful men are so fond of, creating that impression of a man around whom all important things orbit.

But it was that third man that caught Wyatt's eye. It seemed like he'd been put together by somebody with a fondness for art deco and Miami Vice -- the dark green suit, the dark yellow shirt, the red tie, the black hair combed back perfectly, in a shaped that suggested it must have been greased back, but no shine giving that away, the sunglasses in place despite the fact that it wasn't really all that bright out, and the less-than-subtle holster straps that showed guns on each side. It could only have been Clay Warren, Ramsay's personally bodyguard, of whom very little was known apart from his ever-presence at the Mayor's side at any public function. Even now, surrounded by several hundred cops, Clay had the look of somebody who was expecting an assassination attempt, glancing in a reserved but still slightly hostile manner at those around them as they prepared to move through the crowd to the department headquarters. It was an effective glare -- it probably bought the Mayor an extra foot of personal space despite all the crowding.

As they left behind the limousine, and made their way inside, Wyatt saw that a taxi cab was pulling up on the far-side of it, and from the back of it, out stepped the harried Assistant DA, Petra, talking into her cell phone with a slight air of anxiety Wyatt had not seen before -- although it seemed to dissipate within an instant of being in view of anybody else. Almost immediately after stepping out, the cellphone was shut and thrust into her pocket, as if it had never been out, and her face returned to that determined air that she was so famous for, the almost unnervingly calm look that must have helped her succeed so well in the interrogation room, where more intimidating cops failed. Unfortunately for her, the attention of everybody in the crowd was following the Mayor, and she found herself fighting her way in, and even though she made it through the doors, she couldn't make it any deeper than near Wyatt's desk, and she, like everybody else, had to watch as the Adams, Ramsay and Warren disappeared up the steps in the back, as everybody heard the Captain's voice coming over the PA system.

"-that one? Oh! There you go, we're on now. Good, how's the sound? Ok, good, don't touch anything. Excuse me? Everybody?" He coughed and cleared his throat. "We need you to quiet down now. Officers, please keep it quiet so that everybody inside can hear. If somebody's at the doors, please make sure they're shut. Are they shut?" There was some rumbling as the doors closed, fencing some of the officers outside. "Good. Some are still outside, eh? Ok, well, we'll have to make sure they get filled in afterwards. Alright, everybody, when it's quiet we can proceed..."

The murmuring didn't take long to die down, until it got to the point that despite being filled to the brim with cops, it was quieter than some of the night shifts Wyatt has worked. Even the phones were off, probably being redirected to other precincts running on reduced crews.

"Ok, in the interest of saving time, I'm just going to pass this over to our Mayor. Mayor Ramsay?"

A subdued applause circulated around the cops downstairs as the knocking sounds of a microphone being awkwardly handled came over the speakers.

"Thank you very much, Captain," said a different voice, and Wyatt immediately recognized that same slick delivery that had been all over his re-election ads that were currently playing. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Port City's finest, I'm glad to have you all here today to discuss what's going on. Surely by now you're all familiar with a recent string of attacks around the city being made by an unknown person armed with a bow. You also might be aware that there are rumours floating about that the person may or may not be targeting people based on a pattern. Conspiracies being what they are, I don't doubt that many might be tempted by this line of thinking, but the more information comes out in the District Attorney's investigation, the more it becomes readily apparent that these attacks have no pattern."

From his perch, Wyatt looked over at Petra and saw an expression of calm. After last night, the conversation that he overheard at the DA's office felt now like it had happened a week ago, but Wyatt still remembered her insistence that something was less-than-random about this man, and it made her demeanour now doubly mysterious to him. Either she'd changed her mind, or she had a great poker face.

"What you might not have known is that in cooperation with the District Attorney's office I've managed to facilitate the creation of a task force that's dedicated to this string of attacks." Some murmuring started up, but the Mayor didn't break pace, speaking a bit louder to quickly rein attention back to him. "As you can imagine, ever since the events of Hyde Park, it has been the mandate of my term as Mayor to ensure that random acts of violence of all forms in this city are dealt with in a manner that is both swift and suffocating. This new attacker, by going to the media with his latest victim, obviously is looking to capture the attention of the public, and that, combined with other challenges that are arising from his methods, has compelled my office to again take swift and suffocating action. As we near the anniversary of that terrible day that saw our city lose so many innocent civilians, along with so many of Port City's finest, I feel that we have no choice but to respond. To do otherwise would be to send the wrong sort of message to those who wish to bring violence back to our fair city."

"Thankfully, even our early work on the task force has been rewarding. The sheets that are circulating now represent a breakthrough in our investigation, which Gerald Adams will elaborate on at this time. I would like to thank him specifically for his great help in aiding the task force, and in addition I would like to thank all of you for your continued service to Port City, and as I cede the microphone to the District Attorney I'd like to wish you luck on your efforts today. Thanks very much. Gerry?"

Murmuring broke out once more as the sheets started ruffling around again. Somebody finally thrust a handful onto Wyatt, who took one and looked around for anybody who needed it. Nobody was looking at him, though, and the secretary continued playing Solitaire below him, so he dumped them on top of the filing cabinet behind him. He turned back around and surveyed the room, and saw that Petra was on her phone again, hunched over and shielding her mouth as she talked into it.

"Thanks Mr. Mayor, and I think we all would like to extend our gratitude for your leadership of our city this past year." There were rumblings of agreement around the room, as well as the flapping sound of people trying to applaud while holding their sheets. "Alright everybody, hopefully by now you all have a picture of the perp in front of you along with a brief description. Our best intelligence at the moment leads towards a disgruntled military veteran who's probably in his early-to-mid forties, based on the composite descriptions from the various witnesses we've been able to gather. He's extremely thin, to the point that we're currently looking into narcotics abuse. Our examinations of the weapons show them to be crude and inexpensive, which suggests the possibility that he might be capable of making them on his own. We're looking into people who make regular visits to handyman shops of some kind. We're also on the lookout for somebody who rents Rambo frequently from the video store." Some laughter went around the room.

"Thanks folks, I'm here all week." The DA chuckled. "Seriously, though, everything about the latest attack says things are going to be escalating. He's getting bolder, the level of masochism is rising, and involving the PCFM radio station seems to suggest a desire to bring in more media attention than he already had. We don't know what direction this guy is going to go in next, and with some of the events in the next few weeks, including the upcoming Hyde Park Commemoration Ceremony, we suspect that the earlier we get this guy, the better. Understood?" Affirmative responses came from the crowd, and Wyatt threw out a half-hearted "Yes sir," but inwardly he was a bit disturbed. As the DA had talked, he knew they were working from the same data that he'd seen, but were coming up with completely different conclusions. He looked around to see if others were going with what was being said, and for the most part he saw untroubled faces on all the cops, and even some nodding agreement.

Then his eyes fell upon Petra, who was staring right back at him, her face expressionless as ever. His heart skipped a beat and he quickly looked down at the sketch.

"Our first step is to begin talking to people and circulating this profile as quickly as possible. We're hoping that if enough doors are knocked on, we'll either get a good suspect quickly or at the very least let him know we're wise to him. That's why we've got so many of you here. As usual, we're just asking questions, trying to get basic information, so let's not start a widespread panic out there when we're talking to people. We've brought in officers from several precincts today because we wanted to start coordinating things quickly. From the looks of it, we've got too many people here to do this indoors, so when we get outside we'll split things up. Everybody is going to be getting their assignments by radio from their precinct's dispatchers, and we might as well start heading outside now-"

Instantly there was rumbling around the room as cops began to spill outdoors and pour onto the street, informing their comrades who were standing around outside what the speech was about. Wyatt watched as more of the sheets were handed out, until he was bumped from behind by somebody reaching for the pile he'd left on the cabinet. Teetering on the pail awkwardly for a second, he jumped down and nearly fell onto the secretary's desk. Cops were moving fairly intently towards the doors as people outside yelled orders to manage the crowd traffic better. By the time Wyatt got his bearings, the downstairs office was almost emptied except for the last couple dozen policemen coming through from the stairs. Unsure if he was going to be participating in the manhunt or not, Wyatt looked over at his desk.

A large stack of files was waiting there for him. He sighed, and turned around to fix the garbage pail, before walking over to his desk. Which, when he looked at it a second time, he saw Petra there again, appraising him. Not really sure what to do, he walked over, scratching his cheek.

"Officer Milter," Petra said in a dead tone of voice.

"Uh... hi," he said. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm not sure," Petra said. "Perhaps not right now." She looked over at the rear corridor, and when Wyatt followed her gaze, it was to see the Captain, the DA, the Mayor and his bodyguard coming down together. The Mayor shook hands with the Captain and the DA, before he left the two of them there discussing something by the stairs. He and Clay made their way through the office and out towards the limo, and as the two walked, the Mayor looked around and gave his almost-sincere smiles to the staff in the office, while Clay checked every angle of the room. In an instant they were gone out the front door, where they were greeted by some informal applause by the cops who were there.

Wyatt looked back at Petra, who seemed to still be studying the Captain and the DA in the back room as they continued to chat.

"Well, ok, if you need my help, just let me know," Wyatt said. "I should probably see to these files th-"

"What's your impression on this course of action, Officer Milter?" Petra asked.

"Huh?" Wyatt asked quickly.

"This search. The suspect. Do you think we're looking for the right man?" she asked.

Wyatt studied her intensely. She was obviously talking directly to him, but her eyes were still on the stairs where the Captain and the DA were talking.

"I'm honestly sure that I'm the last person to know anything about this," he said.

"Oh, I don't think that's true, Wyatt," she said, almost smiling as she turned towards him. "I think you've been doing a lot of thinking about this."

"Well, yeah, thinking," Wyatt said, looking down at his desk, avoiding her gaze. "But thinking is just... thinking."

"Hm..." she said, "All the same, I'd be very int... Just a second."

She cut herself off as the DA and the Captain came back out from the corridor, having finished their chat. The Captain immediately turned to Wyatt and called out, "Milter. You're early. Good. Office. Pronto." Wyatt's heart suddenly jumped. He'd almost forgotten that he actually was still early for his shift, and the thought occurred to him that maybe he'd be brought in to be a part of the manhunt. After all, the DA had said "as many available men as possible" earlier. He felt his spirits rise up. He was ready to give Petra an apology poorly masked by happiness, but she'd already started walking towards the DA. Smiling inwardly, he walked over to the Captain's door, and knocked.

"Milter, get in here," he said.

"Yes sir," Wyatt answered and walked in.

The Captain looked up from his desk. "It's good that you're here early," he said. "You know what to do."

"I do, sir?" Wyatt said.

"Yeah," the Captain said, almost perplexed. "Two creams, two sugars, on the double. I've got a long day ahead of me."

"Yes sir," Wyatt sighed, before turning around to get the Captain's coffee. Petra and Adams were gone, and two more large stacks of files had been dropped off on his desk.