Spade got to his feet, pain surging through the leg he was shot in. Norman dropped the MAC-10 and held his staff in front of him. Jason stood next to his brother, holding his staff as well. Spade looked and saw that these staves were shorter than the average bo staff. He remembered hearing about these jo staves. Spade rushed in, prepared for this last fight. As Spade swung his sword, Norman ducked and Jason nailed the vigilante in the chest, sending him down as Norman kicked him behind the ankles. Spade got up angrily.

“Are you impressed with our jojutsu?” asked Norman as he moved back.

Spade tried again, clashing with Jason’s staff this time as Norman came in, smashing his staff into Spade’s ribs. Spade yelled in pain as he went to his knees. Norman spoke again.

“These are called jo staves. They’re a bit shorter than the average bo staff and a lot better to train with.”

Spade looked up…

“Oh, you want to know how we learned so much. Simple, we learned from one of your master’s former students. It was after you left.”

Spade began to seethe with anger. His brothers had defiled his master’s memory. It would be time for them to suffer the consequences. With that, Spade got up. But as Norman and Jason prepared to attack again, another gunshot cut the air. Norman, Jason, and Spade looked in the direction of the shot and saw an angry Thomas Crawford, who had his weapon pointed at the three.

“I’ve…had…enough of this,” said Crawford, taking a few steps forward.

The brothers turned their attention to Crawford.

“You! You’re that FBI agent from the bar!” said Jason.

Crawford walked up, his pistol still pointed at the brothers.

“I’m a U.S. Marshal. However, I’m going to kill you bastards for what you did to my Rose.” Crawford said. “But I’m not gonna let you double team the Snypa.”

With that, Crawford moved next to Spade and took off his suit jacket and undid his tie.

“Let’s go.”

Jason rushed Crawford, who sidestepped and sent Jason to the ground. He whipped out a pair of handcuffs and placed them on his wrists.

“Don’t go anywhere,” said Crawford, going back to the fight.

Spade was beginning to mount a comeback as he decided to fight empty-handed. When Norman took a forward thrust at Spade, the vigilante moved out of the way and grabbed the quarterstaff at the tip. Norman could not pull it back, but moved a small lever on the bottom of the staff down. Small blades protruded from the staff, cutting into Spade’s hands. Spade would not let go as he finally yanked the weapon out of Norman’s hand and shoved the staff into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees. Spade looked at his blood-covered hands as he threw the staff down. Norman glared back as Spade came toward him, picking up the Beretta 92FS. Norman into Spade’s cold, emotionless eyes as Spade cocked back on the pistol when another pistol was cocked. Spade turned to see Crawford point his sidearm at him.

“Drop it, Spade!” yelled Crawford. “It’s over!”

Spade turned back to his brother, ignoring Crawford.

“Don’t push it!”

Spade turned his attention and his weapon back on Crawford, who fired and missed which made the gunslinger fire back in anger and take out a tree branch in front of the Marshal.

“Fuck you!” yelled Spade, the grip on his weapon tightening. “If I leave him to you, in a matter of years- he’ll hurt someone else.”

“What will it matter?” asked Crawford as Spade moved back.

Spade let Crawford put a second pair of handcuffs on Norman as well. Afterward, he looked up and put his Glock 22 back on Spade.

“I have to take you in too, Spade.” Crawford said. “You’re a wanted criminal as well.”

Spade threw the Beretta down on the grass and put his hands behind his head as Crawford walked up to him with a pair of Plasti-Cuffs in his hand. As he prepared to put the cuffs on Spade, the vigilante grabbed Crawford’s wrist and swept his right leg from under him, taking him down. Spade picked the Glock up and pointed it at Crawford.

“I ain’t a cop killer, Crawford,” said Spade. “But those crooked cops who killed Raymond Darion, they deserved to die. Just like these two bastards right here. They killed your daughter, dude.”

While Spade was talking, Norman had got up to his feet. He was charging Crawford as he got to his feet. Spade stepped back to raise the Glock and pulled the trigger, hitting Norman right between the eyes. Crawford was shocked as he saw Norman’s body drop to the ground. Then he became all business again as he drew his backup piece. Before he could even point the weapon at Spade, the vigilante was already in his face and due to the butt of the Glock into his temple; Crawford went down and lost consciousness.

Spade went after his other brother Jason, who was still down on the ground and cuffed as well. As Jason tried to get up, Spade kicked him back down and pointed the Glock at his head.

“Well, well. The more things change, the more they stay the same.” Spade chuckled, keeping the pistol pointed at Jason’s face.

Jason spat in his brother’s face.

“You know what you are, Damijin? You’ve become what you go after: a piece of shit.” Jason sneered.

“Is that right?” replied Spade. “Then I guess that makes me like you, right?”

When Jason was about to answer, Spade kicked him in the face.

“Wrong. I’m better. Each one of you fucks I kill, that’s one more innocent life saved and one less scumbag on the streets.”

Spade picked up his fallen katana and moved back to Jason.

“What the fuck are you going to do with that?!” demanded Jason.

“Don’t worry about it….”

Seattle, Washington- Drake Marion Cemetery

A gathering of people were rising up from their chairs. They were crying and some people were hugging. Among the people was FBI Agent William Rustle, who was in wheelchair due to a broken leg from the highway chase with Spade. Accompanying Rustle was U.S. Marshal Thomas Crawford with cuts and bruises on his face and his broken nose bandaged up. He put his sunglasses on over his blackened right eye to hide the silent tears that flowed down his face.

“Why, Rose?” asked Crawford to no one silently.

Rustle tried to comfort his colleague.

“You know, I thought that she was just a killer who threw her life away exacting vigilante justice on criminals,” Rustle started. “But now, I have a deeper sense of thought about this whole thing.”

“And what would that be?” asked Crawford.

“My sense of thought would be that Rose gave her life in the line of duty. A duty that she placed upon her shoulder because there was no one else who would stand up to these monsters, not even us- the law.”

The two law enforcers were walking toward the limo that had picked Crawford up for the funeral when the FBI agent pointed at something in a nearby tree.

“What…the…hell?” asked Crawford as he and Rustle moved closer to the sight.

When the pair got to the tree, they saw a pair of legs that had been severed at the knees tied together.

Then the two spoke in unison: “Spade.”

Also among the gatherers at Rose’s funeral was a black man in an-all black suit covered in a black trenchcoat. His black hair was tied back into a ponytail for the time being. Spade put his sunglasses on and turned as the people began to leave.

One loose end to tie up...

Feirgon, Missouri-

Spade stood at the gravesite of his friend, Lieutenant Raymond Darion. He went over to two bags he had set down. The first bag had a medium-sized pole inside. Spade pulled it out and drove into the ground next to Raymond’s grave. The other bag had Jason’s severed torso inside

“Well, you can best believe this fight is far from over,” Spade said. “For you and for Rose, I will continue this fight.”

Then the rain began to fall as Spade picked his trenchcoat from off of Raymond’s tombstone and put it on. Spade turned to leave, but as the rain fell down the vigilante broke into a run. Spade continued to run, reaching inside his coat for his .50 caliber Desert Eagle. Spade continued to run.

His pace quickened…

And quickened…until he was up in the air soaring through the trees…

This war was not over.

The poison in the FBI was still loose in the streets.

And Spade would extract it from the body of the Bureau.

He had to.

For his sons…

For Rose…

For Raymond…

For every innocent losing their life…

Somewhere, an innocent bystander was being victimized. And as long as there were monsters willing to hurt the innocent, there was an even deadlier monster willing to stop them…