We open in a dark room, Harold Attano sits polishing and sharpening a set of daggers in a bandolier laid on a table before him. 

“The truth is a fickle thing, Night.  I hope you understand that.  Especially if you intend to use it as a weapon.” 

Harold pulls a dagger from its home and examines it with complete care. 

“You have to make sure you understand every angle, every little pit, and deformity in the information you’ve received because if your ‘truth’ comes from someone other than yourself, there could be something they’re not telling you.” 

Harold tosses the dagger, and we hear and see it thump in a target on the periphery. 

“You have to be sure all the Intel you get is dead on target.  Locked in, and from a reliable source because everyone has their own angle on what the truth is.” 

Harold pulls yet another dagger from the bandolier, smoothly and silently as he begins to work on it. 

“You’ve got to vet that truth, make sure it’s worth burning bridges.  Make sure that you work on that “truth” until it is the weapon you really think it is and that it’s reliable enough to stake your life on.” 

*THWACK* Harold’s hand moves swiftly, almost imperceptibly, and another dagger hits the target. 

“Because when you’re operating with intel, that you’ve tricked yourself into believing… It could cost you your life.” 

Harry removes another knife from its holster. Instead of sharpening this one, he tests the sharpness with his thumb in a practiced manner before wrapping the flat of the blade off the table as the sound rings, as the metal ping echoes off the walls of the empty room. 

“The truth must be tested like any weapon; it should be reliable and sturdy.  You should be able to steak your life on it my friend and I hate to tell you something very fucking troubling… 

Harold throws the knife wild, and the focus follows it *CLICK* when the focus returns to Harold, we’re staring down the barrel of a .45 Magnum. 

“I want you to remember, you asked for this.  I never wanted you standing across the ring from me.  I tried so many times to parley, to talk, to solve this without bloodshed.  But you decided it was time to…” 

Time seems to stand still as Harold speaks. 

“Cut the cord, and now all it will take is One Shot, One Kill, and you’ll fall like everyone else.  So, you with knowing your truth and with me in the dark, I have one question… Do you feel lucky?  Well, do you?  Feel lucky… Night?” 

We see the hammer cocks slowly. 

“Because if Hera gave you your truth, then you’re showing up with a knife to a gunfight.  I wouldn’t believe that bitch if her tongue were notarized by the corpse of Damien fucking Wolfe himself.  Your truth will be nothing but a fiction in the presence of Nobody.” 

Harold pulls the trigger, the hammer falls, there’s a muzzle flash, and then darkness.