We open on Harold Attano sitting at a table, mugshots spread out before him.  He locates the first, of Jasper Redgrave and his mind drifts back to Redgrave winning the Rise of the Spartan.  The weeks spent setting up a trap for Tombstone only to have Harold himself foil it.  Then the statement, that he didn’t kill Michaela. 

“Good for you, you fooled everybody.  Good for you, you fooled everyone.  Good for you, now you’re somebody.  Good for you, you fooled everyone… including me.  For the last year, you’ve been an emotional vampire, feasting on my frustration, angst, and rage.” 

Next, our attention focuses on the mugshot of CJ Thorpe.  Harold’s thoughts drop back to CJ Thorpe attacking his brother Jackson to stick up for Redgrave and assaulting Cade in solidarity with the Uprising. 

“Good for you, you hurt everybody.  Good for you, you hurt everyone. Good for you, you love nobody.  Good for you, you owe no one. You have no idea the lengths your brother would’ve gone to in order to secure your safety.  You’re an Algea, you’re a spirit that has haunted him for months since he found out you were on Deathrow and I had to prop him up and keep him safe because you didn’t give a shit.” 

We then focus on a glory shot of Jackson Cade in a freshly pressed suit and a couple of wet droplets fall at the corner of it.  We flashback to Harold’s numerous run-ins with and saves of and by the Officer. Reflecting upon his love/hate relationship with a young man who’s grown to the recognition of his student. 

“I’ll leave your lights on if I’m able because we both know you’re unstable. But just in case you should call a doctor, say a prayer, and choose a god you think is fair. Because out of all of us you’re the most human but that doesn’t make you any less monstrous. You tried to have me drug back to that hell to suit your needs.” 

Harold turns from the piles of pictures taking in a quick shot of whiskey and steels himself as his eyes make contact with… his own staring back at himself from his own mugshot. Days watching his daughter play, hospital visits, presents given in secret, and the joy he watched second hand. That’s when the tears come… 

“I made these monsters, and my monsters are real, and they’re trained how to kill. And there’s no coming back and they just laugh at how I feel. If I didn’t leave them to their devices to make their “art” and go down to Deathrow. If I didn’t hunt them in a misguided attempt to mend a family. If I didn’t take him under my wing and protect him. They wouldn’t be here without me.” 

Harold wipes away the moisture from his face and resolve sets in his eyes. 

“It only serves that Nobody made you all the monsters that you are and who’s the one that’ll take you all out? Nobody, that’s who.”