Everything was wet, from the ground up and the misty rain continued to fall coating everything in the cemetery. The trees still waiting for their new foliage to return, stood wet and dark in background. Even the grass waited to turn green and lush but remained for the time being matted down from the winter's heavy blanket of snow. A few weeds poked their heads up to the dreary sky and showed signs of life, other than Robert McCall.

His thickly built frame stood at the foot of an old friend's grave. Robert's long dark grey coat matched his mood as well as the surroundings. His mind cast back several months when he had heard of his friend's death, and the day of the funeral. Robert continued to feel a deep sense of loss by the death of Control. Somehow it didn't make any sense at all - maybe had he been paying attention somewhere along the way, Control might have said something that would have prevented his death. Robert thought hard, but nothing came and yet they had gone through so much together.

In his right hand, Robert held his glasses. He unconsciously nibbled at the arms as his eyes squinted at the stone marker. As thoughts ran through his head his eyes shifted and his head tilted. Slowly he gently placed his glasses on his nose and straightened his back. Then his hazel eyes drifted down to the single read rose he held in his left hand. His pursed lips quivered slightly as moisture built up in his eyes, stinging them.

He'd been standing for too long in the damp and now his knees ached as he moved forward to the head stone. "I'll be back another day, old friend..." he said wearily as he layed the flower on the marker and stepped back before he drew a deep breath and turned back to his car.

With almost cat-like silence, McCall walked back to his black Jaguar and paused before unlocking the driver side door. His eyes cast back to the flower and he smiled ever so slightly before getting into the car and driving away.


Robert pulled his car up to the curb in front of his downtown flat. The red brick building was modest looking from the outside, but his apartment contained items that he'd collected over the years, including a baby grand which he sometimes played.

Slowly he walked up the stairs and unlocked his door - followed by deactivating security alarm. He walked in the room and noticed the red button flashing on his answering machine. "Oh, damn. Can't anyone get some time to themselves anymore?" he asked aloud as he pulled off his gloves and coat, flinging both over the back of the sofa at the centre of the large room.

Robert decided to pour a scotch before listening to the machine that seemed to get him into more trouble than he was able to get others out of. He kind of chuckled at that thought. With a heavy sigh he walked to the counter and with an over accentuated piece of acting he rose his index finger high into the air and landing in on the playback button. As the machine clicked and whizzed before getting to the lone message he sipped on his drink. Then he waited. What nut-bar left a message this time? He waited and then the message started. McCall slowly set his glass down and continued listening, "Robert? It's Pete...I really need to talk to you and I can't over the phone. Something awful has happened and I need to see you. I'm at the restaurant. Please hurry."

Robert pulled himself straight and blinked his eyes and wonder what could be so bad. He listened to the message again. This time picking up the urgency in his friend's voice. Quickly he picked up his coat and left his apartment to find out what Pete had to tell him.