When Jean arrived home that day, it wasn't her father who was waiting for her; it was Jonathan.

"Good evening, miss," he said mockingly, bowing as she entered. He stood right next to the doorway so that he would be there right when she arrived. "I hope you had a great day at your little clubhouse." While his voice may have been mocking in nature, there was an undertone of sheer hatred that was frightening.

"Buzz off," Jean said as she walked upstairs to her room.

But Jonathan stepped into her way. "I have to congratulate you with getting away with it even today, Jean. I'll let you know that Dad wasn't happy when his car was smashed into a tree and you were nowhere to be found. But, you still fell into my trap."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jean, growing very nervous.

Jonathan answered with a question. "Whose idea do you think it was to set up that little snare with your shoes and the ink? It was pretty brilliant, if I do say so myself. Either you would lead us to the base, or you would lead us to your gadget-snatching gadget. It was quite genius."

"Since when did you care about finding out about the Resistance Movement's base?"

"I, like any concerned citizen would be, am worried about this organization and would like to see its end."

"Right, and that's the only reason," said Jean doubtingly. "This doesn't have anything to do with revenge, does it, Jon?"

"No it doesn't, Jeanine. This is purely me doing the right thing. Perhaps you should do the right thing and just turn yourself in."

"Yeah, whatever," said Jean, and she once again attempted to walk up to her room. But Jonathan once again stood in her path. "Why aren't you letting me get to my room."

"I don't think you realize it yet, Jeanine, but the end is near for you and your, your... gang. And if Dad isn't going to snuff out the location of the base, then someone else will have to."

"What do you mean? Why do you think I sneak out? Of course Dad is after me!"

"Oh really? Then why, with all of his resources, has he not found you yet? You sneak out every day, and when half the time, the police drag you through our doors. You have a thousand things going for your arrest, but here you are, eager each day and the next to go break some more laws. Don't be naïve, Jeanine. Dad isn't trying. If he was, you would be either in prison or dead."

"What I don't understand is how I get caught drinking once and Dad gives me the cold shoulder, and you sneak out every day and crash his car and he still hasn't arrested you yet. You are the most terrible child a father could ever have, and yet… I'm the one who follows all the rules. I'm the one who has trained in Dad's footsteps. Maybe you couldn't tell, but Dad was so proud when you finally turned me in and caught me. You don't see the pain in his face when you say those terrible things at him." Jonathan looked away. When he turned back around, he had tears in his eyes.

He asked, with his voice breaking, "Why are you his favorite?"

Jonathan rushed up the stairs, leaving Jean to soak in what she'd heard. Was it true? Was she the favorite? When she thought of her father, all she thought of was a cruel, hateful man who couldn't love anything, not his wife, not his children. There was nothing in him that could process love. He was a cold shell of a man. But now she wondered, was he something more?

Jean walked up to her own room and lied down on her bed, ready to go to sleep. But, of course, her mind was full to bursting, and sleep wasn't an option. Instead she stared into the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts in the silence.

The complete and utter silence.

That wasn't silent.

Jean heard a faint beeping sound, so faint that if it hadn't been so very quiet, she never would have noticed it. Of course, when your life is one of secrecy, beeping is never good. Jean turned on the lights in her room and began to search, but the buzz of the light bulb was obscuring the location of the beeping. This search would have to be mainly in the dark.

The light turned back off, Jean crept across the floor, ear close to the ground so that she could hear. She found that she was moving closer to the source of sound, but still she couldn't pinpoint the location. Still, she searched the ground in earnest, eager to find out the source of the beeping.

Then she found it. Jean grasped it in her hands and ran over to the light switch. She had a bad feeling about what exactly she was holding, but she had to check.

Sure enough, it was a Spy String, with a tiny note attached that read, "I'll be watching you."

Jean's heart nearly stopped.

Norman sat in his office, working on various decrees and laws. It was a very involved task, trying to find ways to ruin people's lives. He had to make sure that his laws both raised the quality of life for the respectable citizen (which were somewhat lacking in POH) and increased productivity in the district. And if people didn't like his laws, well, that would be their problem.

Norman's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. "Come in," he shouted.

Jonathan walked in with an air of formality, as if he was prepared to offer Norman a deal he couldn't possibly refuse. "Hello, Father," said Jonathan, with as much emotion as he thought his dad would desire.

"Well hello, Jonathan," said Norman distractedly as he continued writing. "Have a seat, please."

"It would be my honor," replied Jonathan courteously, and he sat down across from his father. Norman kept working. Jonathan cleared his throat. There was not an effect.

Finally, Norman looked up, saying, "Well…"

Jonathan took this as an invitation to speak. "Father, I have a proposition for you. It has to do with a certain criminal in our district."

"I'm listening," said Norman, still not looking directly at his son.

"I know you are always busy with your work, and that you simply do not have time to deal with your district. I understand this. This is perfectly acceptable, as you are the mayor, not the police. However, this does not have to mean that lawlessness goes unpunished. This is where I am willing to help."

"Go on."

"I would be willing to track down the location of the Resistance Movement, as well as detain one of its most nefarious members: Jean Pincer."

Norman nearly dropped his pen. "Come again?" he asked in shock.

"I realize that you don't have the time to take care of Jean like you should, so I am willing to aid you."

Norman coughed. "That won't be necessary," he said.

"What do you mean it won't be necessary?" asked Jonathan, only slightly outraged. "It is absolutely necessary. Would you rather the Resistance Movement carry on with what they are doing?"

Norman straightened up. "We have other priorities."

"Like what?" shouted Jonathan. "They are the greatest threat to this district at the moment. They are the only priorities."

Norman stood up and locked his eyes on Jonathan. "Listen to me clearly, Jonathan. You will not lay a hand on my daughter. Is that clear?"

Jonathan was shocked. It only proved everything he suspected. "Fine," yelled Jonathan as he stormed out the room.

"But I can't make any promises," he muttered under his breath.