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Karen has known for a while now that this day would be coming, that things would have to come to a head with Patrick Brady and his wife. Men like that don't just stop what they're doing, and women who are stuck with them often don't get out until it's too late. As far as she can tell, it's extremely goddamn lucky that Carolyn is still alive. It's not exactly surprising, not when she knows how closely John has been keeping an eye on the situation, but it is a relief to find out as much, to know that, for the time being, she'll be safe.

Likewise unsurprising is the fact that John is taking things into his own hands now. He told her once, what feels like such a long time ago, about what happened to his ex. Patrick Brady probably doesn't know how fortunate he is to still be breathing at all. She has a feeling that won't be the case for very much longer, and she's having trouble feeling particularly remorseful about that.

Having texted back as soon as she got John's text to let him know she'd meet him as soon as possible, she turns up not long after. Whatever is about to happen, it won't be his to deal with alone. "What's the situation?" she asks, her voice quiet. "He still in there?"

He knows Karen is there before she speaks, trusts her to approach carefully, trusts her to have come armed. It's a little funny to him sometimes, that the closest relationship he's had to this was likely with Kara, the two of them working as a team, but the differences between Kara and Karen are astronomical and they mean everything. Though he and Kara had worked well together, he had never completely trusted her. He trusts Karen. He loves her. She's everything Kara would have hated and all those things make her a better partner in this than Kara ever could have been, even with all her training.

"Still in there," he confirms. "Nothing on his phone for the past several minutes. He's meeting someone, but I don't think they've arrived yet."

Chances are he's meeting someone dangerous. Someone he owes money to. For Brady to have lost his temper so completely tonight, John has to believe there's something big happening and a part of him isn't sure he wants to stop it. Men like Patrick Brady don't deserve to have second or third chances. The man tried to choke his wife to death tonight and the only reason John is here is to make sure Brady doesn't get to go home.

At least it gives them a few moments to collect themselves, to figure out what they're doing. Part of Karen is a little impatient, wanting to get this over with and that asshole dealt with, but not enough to get sloppy or to go charging in without getting her head straight first. Though she has a tendency to run headfirst into trouble, she's not on her own now, nor would she be the only one at risk. Carolyn Brady nearly died tonight. Karen doesn't want to find out what will happen if Carolyn's husband ever gets near her again. She still suspects, though, that it won't come to that, that John won't let it. If she's right about what he intends, she won't for one second try to change his mind. Sometimes, the system just can't be trusted. Sometimes, people have to take matters into their own hands.

"Do we have a plan?" she asks. Whatever John needs her to do here, she will. From the first night she met him, there's never been any doubt in her mind that she would have his back, and now is certainly no exception. If only because they have a moment's time, she figures she might as well say so. "However this goes tonight... I'm with you. You know that, right?"

There's a chance here, not only to deal with Patrick Brady, but for them to stop something illegal. A least one person here tonight will be a criminal, likely more, and while John's focus is going to be Brady, he takes his job as a police officer in Darrow seriously. He wants to protect innocent people. He wants to stop bad people.

When Karen speaks, John looks at her wearing a small, soft smile and he reaches for her hand. "I know," he says, squeezing gently. It means everything to him, having her here with him, having her trust him like she does. He won't ever do anything to make her regret that.

"I think the plan will depend on how many men go in there to meet him. One or two we can take easily," he says. "I'm not against just walking in."

"If it's that few, it might work," Karen says, more than willing to trust his judgment on this. Though she's done plenty of work with him, this isn't usually part of what her job entails. She carries a firearm for her own protection, just in case; she's not really one to walk in somewhere, guns blazing. Still, if it comes to it, she knows she'll be able to handle herself. She wouldn't risk it otherwise, wouldn't want to be a liability in something so important, and this definitely is. Patrick Brady almost killed his wife tonight, and however this plays out, they need to make sure he doesn't get another chance to finish the job. "We'll have the element of surprise going for us, too."

She feels a little like she's holding her breath, just waiting to see what happens, restless and nervous. Having John here helps, though, even if she wouldn't be doing this at all otherwise. He's far better equipped for this sort of thing than she is, and besides, there's no one she trusts more. "So I guess now we just wait."

They don't have to wait for long.

A car rumbles up with its headlights turned off and John sinks deeper into the shadows, holding his arm across Karen's abdomen to bring her back with him. For a time there's nothing, then three men step out of the car one at a time, all of them armed, and it's only once they've done a rather useless sweep of the surrounding area that a fourth man steps out. John recognizes him. Emilio Conti, thirty-two, and long believed to have ties to the Rambaldi family, though no one has been able to prove it.

If he's here, then Patrick Brady really is in over his head.

They move slowly, taking their time, but they follow the same path Brady took, up into the loading dock and then inside. John figures they have at least a few minutes, but probably not much longer. Shifting the bag on his shoulder, he takes out a stun grenade, shows it to Karen, then nods at the electrical panel at the mouth of the loading dock.

"Throw the switch," he whispers. "I toss the grenade through that window. Then lights back on and we go in."

It's somehow both relieving and anxiety-inducing when something actually happens. At least they aren't standing around waiting anymore, and at least they have a better idea of what they're facing here, but there's no time to waste now. They have to do this. And no matter how much she trusts John, no matter how capable she knows him to be, they're still outnumbered, and she still can't take any of this lightly. Karen nods, though, not about to slow them down now. It's as good a place to start as any. Besides, it's easy to want to do something when she thinks about how close Carolyn Brady came to being killed tonight. Sitting around and letting things happen has never really been her style, and now is no exception.

"Alright," she says, her voice just as quiet. "Here goes." She pauses for just a moment with her hand on the switch, then throws it, flipping it back up again once the grenade has been thrown inside and reaching for her weapon as she prepares to follow John.

The lights go out and from inside the warehouse, John hears a shout. He smiles and lobs the grenade.

The sound of the shattering window is a strangely satisfying one to John, but not nearly as satisfying as the sounds of bewildered pain that come from inside as the stun grenade goes all, the flash blinding and the sound enough to send all five of the men inside down to the ground in pain. They won't be able to see or hear much of anything for at least several minutes, which is more than enough for them to do what they need.

They go in and John takes out two men quickly, hitting their knees with ease and then kicking their weapons away from their outstretched hands. The third tries to come at him, but clearly can't see and John punches him once in the throat, hard enough to rob him of breath, and he gasps as he goes down, too.

"Brady and Conti," he says to Karen. "Do you see them?"

Karen can barely hear over the sound of her own pulse in her head, barely think about anything but the task at hand with the dizzying rush of adrenaline that surges through her when she follows him inside, staying a couple steps back. She's good with a gun and quick to defend herself, but John is the real fighter here, and practiced as she may be at running headfirst into danger, she still has the sense to let him do so first. If she had a bit more presence of mind, if she weren't so focused on making sure she'll be able to back him up, she would think it's pretty hot, the way he takes those three men out so quickly. It's something to come back to later. First they need to get things taken care of here.

"That way, I think," she says, keeping her voice quiet, gesturing with a tilt of her chin off to the right. That John has rather quickly ensured that they aren't outnumbered anymore is a little comforting, though she knows better than to completely disregard the three men on the ground, but she's still not about to let her guard down or do anything that might give the two of them away. "I'm right behind you."

If she were hurt in any way, if she'd been hit by a bullet or a fist, she would tell him. John trusts Karen, not only with his life and safety, but to know what's most important to him, which is always her. He won't make the same mistakes he's made before, he won't lose more people he loves to senseless violence.

If Karen was hurt, he would know. And he would end this.

But she tells him to go and so he does. Moving toward the right, he puts himself against a wall, then peers around a load of boxes. A shot rings out from somewhere down the hall, but it's too dark for John to see who's holding the gun. He fires back, unable to tell if he's hit anyone or anything, mostly trying to give himself and Karen time and cover to head around the next set of boxes.

It's strange, how it almost feels like acting on instinct, though they aren't instincts she's ever had the chance to develop. She's been thrown into a lot of weird, dangerous situations before, but rarely has she been the aggressor in them. Karen pointedly does not think about the first time she deliberately aimed a gun at someone and shot; she wouldn't be able to even if she could, and she really doesn't need that kind of distraction right about now. Not when she's in the middle of an honest-to-god fucking shootout.

Even for someone like her, though, so quick to run into danger, self-preservation comes easily. She keeps herself as close to the wall as she can, until it's time to move, following John's lead all the while. He's the one of them here who really knows what he's doing, and she trusts him unfailingly. She doesn't need to think twice about, essentially, putting her life in his hands. There's no one with whom she would sooner do so.

From somewhere deeper in the warehouse, John can suddenly hear raised voices and he pauses, still with his arm gently across Karen's torso, and listens intently. Looking over at her, his brows draw together just slightly, the only indication he's confused by what he's hearing.

But it makes sense, he realizes. Conti and Brady aren't in this together. Conti had come here, no doubt, to collect on a debt Brady owes. They're arguing about it now, both of them under more pressure than they had expected with John and Karen's arrival, and that look of confusion on John's face is slowly replaced by a small smile.

"You can't do that!" Brady shouts. "You can't just-"

He's cut off by the sound of a scuffle and then there's silence until suddenly Brady shrieks in anger and comes flying out of the dark toward John and Karen.

Still and quiet between his arm and the boxes, Karen can hear the sound of an argument, and looks up to see the moment John smiles, piecing it together in that same instant. It doesn't really improve their current situation, but it does explain a lot. It makes a lot of sense, too, with what they know of Patrick Brady and his history both of gambling debts and taking his frustration about them out on his wife. All there is to do, though, is wait — that is, until a man screams and comes running out of the darkness, leaving them with nowhere to go and little to do, the need to handle this immediate.

"John, look out!" she shouts, hand tight around her weapon. Her position isn't exactly an advantageous one, but she'll use it if she has to.

He has a gun. And he has it pointed not at him, but at Karen.

That's the only thing John sees as Brady comes flying from the dark, running directly at the person in this city he loves the most, and so he lifts his own weapon without a thought. It's instinct and the world goes quiet around him as he aims, not at Patrick Brady's kneecap, like he ought to, but at his centre mass. Even before he pulls the trigger, he knows this shot is going to kill the man.

He doesn't care.

Brady goes down before he can fire his own gun, a crumpled heap on the floor, and John steps forward and kicks the gun away from his outstretched hand before he turns to look at Karen.

Karen gasps when a gun fires, a soft, strangled sound, barely audible over the shot. For a moment, she can't be sure where it came from or who it hit, her body tensing like she's expecting it to be her. The moment passes, though. Patrick Brady crumples to the ground, and somehow she knows instinctively that he won't be getting back up again. Part of her thinks she expected this when she first got the text from John telling her what happened and where he'd be. She should probably mind that, but she can't bring herself to. Carolyn Brady will be safe now. She and John both are, too. And a bad man is dead.

Exhaling slowly, she watches John, making sure he doesn't look hurt. He seems fine, though, and she's pretty sure only one shot was fired. Briefly, she thinks about James Wesley, slumped over a table, and the fallout she always expected from that, but she pushes those memories away again quickly. They won't do her any good now, and there's too much to take care of.

"He's dead," she says calmly; it's not really a question. "We need to get rid of the body."

John almost defends the choice he's made, almost tries to explain to Karen that Brady would have shot her, but in the end he doesn't. All along, from the moment he had arrived in Darrow, Karen had trusted him, and he trusts her now. Trusts her to understand his choices, why he'd shot for centre mass instead of the kneecap.

His reasons may not all be the best ones. Karen's safety aside, John knows he has personal grievances tied up in the sort of man Patrick Brady is -- was -- and that they will always change how he sees men like that. But whether or not they're the right reasons, he trusts Karen to know why they exist.

He nods once and says, "His connection to the Rambaldis will be uncovered before long. If he disappears, the police are more likely to blame their operation for it."

He didn't need to shoot to kill. Karen probably wouldn't think twice about it except that she knows John usually doesn't on purpose. This whole situation isn't exactly usual, though. She's not usually in the middle of shootouts. Their targets aren't usually people who abuse their wives and leave them nearly dead in the hospital. She knows about John's history, what happened to his ex and how hard that was on him. It's why at least a part of her expected this tonight. As long as Brady was alive, his wife would have stayed with him or had to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. Either way, it wouldn't have ended well. It shouldn't be, but this is the neatest solution, especially after he'd come running out of the dark, brandishing a weapon.

Sometimes there just aren't other options. She hates that, but she knows it.

"Good," she says with a nod of her own. "We should ditch that gun, too. Use it again, it could be traced back to this." She knows he knows all of this. He's the goddamn homicide detective. It helps a little, though, to talk it through, to have a plan, to approach this as rationally as possible. What happened here tonight is something she can't bring herself to regret, but they still need to be smart about it.

"Not right away," he says thoughtfully. "We'll keep it in the safe for now. I won't use it."

And then, in a few months, he'll find a way to get rid of it. The weapon will never show up as a possible connection to this crime and even if it does, it will never be connected back to either of them. For now, he returns the gun to his holster, then goes back to the main room briefly to collect the pieces of the stun grenade he'd tossed in earlier. He doesn't bother with the glass from the broken window. The police will assume it's vandalism.

"You can go," he says when he returns to Karen and the body. "That way you can build yourself an honest alibi." He doesn't believe it will come to that and he doesn't really expect her to go, but he wants to know she has the option. He'll do anything to keep her from suffering in any way.

"You know I'm not going anywhere," Karen says with a small smile, certain that John won't be expecting any other answer from her. It should probably unnerve her, how easy this part is, but honest alibi or not, she trusts him to have her back. In turn, she has his. She won't leave him to get rid of a body on his own. It'll be easier and faster if there's two of them, anyway. Not that she's ever actually done this before — she hasn't — but hell, there's a first time for everything, and in this case, it's worth it. She's not worry that Patrick Brady is dead. Maybe she should be, knowing she's supposed to be against this sort of thing in the first place, but she's not, and she would never hold it against John. Shit happens. He did what he had to do. And now they'll do what they have to do.

Taking a breath, she nods once. "We're in this together. You're just gonna have to tell me what to do, because I am not used to dumping bodies."

Her answer doesn't come as a surprise, but John had wanted to give her the option all the same and he wanted to make sure she knew he would never hold it against her if she chose to leave. Protecting Karen, protecting the life she has here, it's more important to him than anything else including his own safety.

Still, he smiles at her a little and nods.

"At this point, it might make the most sense for us to leave him here," he says as he surveys the scene. "Police will likely be able to trace the meeting with the Rambaldis and even if they can't make the connection, I can push them in that direction."

"And that's why you're a cop and I'm a journalist," Karen says with a wry smile, a little relieved as she exhales. He's right, too. It isn't the death itself they have to cover up, just their involvement in it. It'll be better to make it seem like things played out the way they very well might have if not for the two of their interference. Going with that option saves them a lot of work, too, and she can't pretend she isn't a little glad not to have to move a dead body tonight. The last few minutes have been harrowing enough as it is, even if she never doubted that John would keep her safe. That she would keep herself safe, too, if it came to that, but fortunately, it didn't.

She nods in turn, more to herself than anything else. "Alright. What do we need to do before we leave, then?"

"We'll have to wipe down the doorknobs. Anything else either of us touched," he says. "The breaker I had you flip. No prints left behind, that's the most important thing. The shell casings are fine, this isn't my service weapon, it won't be connected back to me."

But no prints, that's the most important thing. He has to wipe Karen's presence entirely from this place, scrub it out of every possible corner. As far as he can remember, she had only touched the breaker switch, but he still takes his time, pausing at each set of boxes they might have taken cover at, rubbing down the edges where they may have rested their hands with a handkerchief from his pocket.

"I'll go get the switch," Karen says, nodding once to herself. She pauses for a moment before she does, wanting to make sure that it's quiet, that no one else might be hanging around. It's clear, though, which is a relief. They really don't need any uninvited company showing up here tonight. It's enough just to try to get rid of any trace of their presence. Doing so should be easy enough, but they also can't risk taking any chances. No one can know they were here.

In the interest of safety, she wipes down the breaker switch, the sides of the box, and the surrounding wall. She doesn't think she touched anything else, but she can't be certain now, and it's better to err on the side of caution. Once she heads back inside, she asks, "How are things going in here?"

"Done," John answers. He takes one last look at Brady, lying where he'd fallen, then glances toward where he had kicked the gun. That makes it look too much like a cop of some kind had something to do with this, so he returns to the gun and nudges it across the floor with the side of his shoe until it lies mere inches from Brady's outstretched fingers.

"Now we're done," he amends and then takes Karen's hand and leads her from the warehouse.

He doesn't feel guilty about what he's just done. Any of it. Brady can't hurt his wife and the Rambaldis don't get their money. John doesn't think either of those things are bad.

She should probably feel worse about this. On some level, Karen knows that, or she thinks so. Hard as she tries, though, she can't bring herself to. She isn't even particularly nervous, knowing that John can handle this sort of thing, that he won't let it come back to them in any way. They've been careful here tonight; their tracks should be covered. Even being so far outside her comfort zone, she doesn't feel much of anything except a bizarre sense of calm as she and John walk outside, hand-in-hand.

And that's really the point, isn't it? They have each other. Wedding vow clichés aside, they can see each other in the worst possible circumstances and not lose anything for it. When she's been able to be open with so few people, when he knows things about her that no one else does, that means a lot.

"I don't feel bad," she says when they're a little ways away, looking up at him. "About what happened. Just so you know. I don't."

John doesn't feel bad either. He would have done far worse to that man if Karen hadn't been there, would have made him experience every ounce of pain he had ever put his wife through and while he's not proud of that side of him, he's also not sorry it exists. That man has to be there. That man has been a big part of why he's survived this long.

So he doesn't feel bad and he isn't sorry.

Reaching over, John takes Karen's hand and squeezes.

"I would do it again," he says simply. "To anyone who pointed a gun in your direction." To anyone who ever tried to hurt her.

"I know," Karen says, and in spite of everything, she smiles a little. He's always been willing to protect her without acting like she needs protection, and that, to her, is a distinction that makes all the difference in the world. It's nice knowing that he has her back — that he'd shoot anyone who came at her the way Patrick Brady did tonight — but that he won't try to hold her back. They've always worked well together for that reason, she thinks, even before they were anything more than friends and colleagues. Tonight seems like it's been a perfect example of that.

It's probably a little strange, to consider this as having been a good night, but she doesn't really care.

"For the record," she adds, just a little too gentle to be teasing, "I would, too. Or, you know, help cover this up."

A part of him says he should never ask this of her, should have never called her in the first place, but in the years since coming to Darrow, since almost dying in that car, he's done his best to honour Joss Carter's memory by doing what she wanted of him. It isn't always easy, letting people in, but it is better.

This is better.

"We make a good team," he says and smiles over at her, a small expression, but genuine. John has been in love before, he's loved deeply, but he knows he's never loved anyone the way he loves Karen.

"We do," Karen agrees, her own smile soft, but similarly real. She's never fit as well with anyone as she does with him, someone who knows the worst things about her and doesn't think less of her, who has a darkness of his own but not one that's ever scared her. It only makes her feel safe. Sometimes things happen, sometimes things need to be done, and they both understand that. It's not like this is how they usually deal with problems, anyway. Tonight, there were just a lot of extenuating circumstances.

She leans over a little, her shoulder nudging against his. "There's no one I'd rather have my back."

The truth is, Root has been keeping tabs on Patrick Brady every since she and John trailed him in the park.

It's been easy, really. Cell phones are ridiculously easy to track if you have the resources, to tap into if you know how. And she's written a subroutine into her rudimentary facial recognition software that has been keeping tabs on Brady as well. Root knows it's nothing like the Machine-- reading and interpreting data instead of true logic-- but it's been enough to get by. Enough to know before John texts to know he's probably going to need back up.

Which is how she finds herself at the loading dock.

"Oh John," she says, her voice pitched low, "We really have to stop meeting like this."

"You wouldn't know what to do if we met any other way," he answers, his voice just as low. "Brady went in five minutes ago. He's alone for now."

He's meeting someone. Chances are if someone dangerous, someone who could be removed from the situation and the entire city would be better for it, but John doesn't want to start meddling in anything he can't quickly get out of. Even in Darrow, there's a game to be played. Elias might not be here, but there are other men just as willing to try and rule a city.

"Any idea who he's meeting?" he asks, casting his gaze over to Root for a moment before he looks back at the building. "Heard something about Emilio Conti."

He's sure Root has done enough surveillance to know the name, to know he's connected to the Rambaldi family, even if no one has been able to prove it.

"A shining pillar of the community if there ever was one," Root replies, sarcastic, "Conti and Donatella Rambaldi, actually. Looks like Brady's attracting a lot of attention tonight."

For all that the Rambaldi family watches their backs, Root has learned over the past few months that they're shockingly lacking when it comes to securing any of their data or mobile devices.

"If he owes money to the Rambaldis, he really is in deep," John murmurs. He doesn't particularly care. Finch would tell him that everyone deserves a chance and John supposes he would have listened to that once, but it's been a long time since he's last spoken with Finch and John has seen one too many bruises on Carolyn Brady to care what her husband might deserve.

"His wife called an ambulance earlier," he says. "Brady tried to strangle her."

Root knows this, of course. It's kinda hard not to notice an ambulance dispatched to the house of one of the people you've been monitoring. Without Her calling the shots, Root likely would have been content to ignore much of Brady's activities. Darrow has its own criminal enterprises and some people are just collateral damage.

But even an reformed killer for hire can be sure that Brady's wife shouldn't fall under that umbrella.

"So tell me you have a plan," she says.

John opens his coat to display the stun grenade he's carrying, then gives Root a small smile. At this point, he doesn't care about the rest of the people who are in the warehouse with Brady. He's here for one reason only.

"Making plans was really always more Finch's area of expertise," he answers.

His only plan is to make Patrick Brady regret he's ever laid his hands on his wife. And to make sure he never does it again.

"Then I guess we improvise," Root replies. It's not her preferred method of going about things, and she hasn't had to in a very long time now, thanks to the Machine, but she can adapt. If there's anything Root is exceptionally good at doing, it's adapting.

"Need me to clear out the warehouse?"

Of course a grenade will do the trick, but she has an option in mind that's slightly less messy.

"What did you have in mind?" he asks.

John doesn't think he needs to explain to Root why he's here and what he wants. The rest of the men involved are background noise and nothing more. His job as a directive in Darrow means he should care and maybe he will in time, but tonight there's a single point of focus for John, a place to put all his anger, all the fury he still carries for Peter Arndt and what he'd done to Jessica.

Finch would have told him not to do this. Carter would have tried to talk him out of it. He doesn't think Root will do the same.

Root has been in Darrow going on half a year; by now, she's had her hands in just about every unsecured system she's had the time and inclination to touch. And fortunately for her and John, that includes the security system of this particular building.

"Lets see if Rambaldis melt," she says, taking a phone out of her pocket and rapidly activating a subroutine she already has handy that she knows will trick the building's sprinklers into thinking a fire has broken out.

It only takes a second or two before the building starts clearing out, the Rambaldis in one direction, and Brady in the other, hoping to sneak away.

John smiles, just a tiny expression, and his gaze slides over to Root before he takes off after Brady. She's free to follow or go after the Rambaldis, but John has one very specific purpose here; to make absolutely sure Patrick Brady never hurts his wife again.

What he doesn't expect is that Brady has a gun and as John goes after him he sees a flash of light off metal and he dodges to one side at the last second and presses himself against the building.

"Gun!" he calls to Root. Without the Machine to help them, he's not taking anything for granted.

For a fraction of a second, Root considers going after the Rambaldis. But for the moment, whatever crimes they're involved in are largely irrelevant. Besides, they might serve a purpose later, even Root doesn't know what that might be yet.

She rushes after John, checking the clip on both of the guns she's brought with her. She doesn't doubt that he can take care of himself, but there's still a chance he could use the backup.

A shot rings out, loud in the night air, and John glances back briefly to make sure Root hasn't been hit. Brady is shooting wildly now that he's begun and John doesn't know how much ammo he has, doesn't know if there's a chance of him actually really hurting someone, if not one of them, then some innocent passerby.

He shoots back, one perfect shot, and Brady goes down clutching his knee. John doesn't see the man's gun, though, and so when he approaches, he does so slowly.

When Brady lifts the gun again, it isn't John he's pointing at. It's Root. John reacts without thought, lifting his weapon, firing once more, as perfect a shot as his first, though this time Patrick Brady goes very still. Then the blood begins to pool from under him, the stain spreading dark and red across his shirt.

Root's been shot at before. She's lost count of the number of times she's found herself in a firefight, even before the Machine. But Brady is firing wildly, and Root doesn't have the Machine's voice in her ear anymore.

It's a crutch she hasn't realized she'd been depending on until now.

Root ducks behind a few crates there on the loading dock, and as glaring as The Machine's absence is here, there's a part of her that's missed this. Disappearing into various identities in Darrow has its purpose, but for the most part, the work is dull, even if Root is good at it.

She grins to herself as she checks around the corner, ready to cover John's back, when one last shot ends the gunfire. When Root stands, both of her guns are drawn, but she slowly lowers them when she sees the scene in front of her. Brady still, the gun dropped from his limp hand, his face going slack.

"...John?" Root says, approaching slowly, not sure what else to say.

"He would have hit you."

There's no way for John to know that for certain, but he had felt the risk was high enough to take action, and he doesn't regret it. Patrick Brady isn't a man who deserved to live even before he started shooting at people, but now that John knows he'd had access to a gun, he feels even more certain that this was the only way. If he had gone home tonight with that weapon in his pocket, chances are high Brady would have finally killed his wife.

Now he can't. He can't hurt anyone.

John steps forward and kicks the gun away from Brady's hand just in case, but the man isn't moving. He'll have to do something about this.

Root knows she can take care of herself. She's been shot before, but considering the number of firefights she's been in, the number of bullets she'd ended up having to take has been pretty low. But there's no time to argue about that now, not with Brady lying there, not knowing that there's a good chance the Rambaldis are going to come looking for him any second now.

She looks back, over her shoulder, and there's no one coming now, but Root knows that won't be the case for very long.

"We have to go," she says, "We have to go now."

John nods and then moves. As they go, he does a mental inventory of the night, trying to determine what, if anything, either of them touched. It had never been a concern for him before, but now that he's John Riley, seemingly forever, he knows he needs to do the right thing to protect his identity.

Root had taken care of getting everyone out. John hasn't touched anything with his hands besides his own weapon, which he holsters now. They're clean.

"Police will think the Rambaldis did it," he says. "Which might end up in trouble for us, but the kind we can handle."

"There aren't many cameras," Root says, as they rush away, "But I'll take care of the ones that might have seen anything."

When it comes to either of them being identified, Root isn't particularly worried. She didn't touch anything but her own weapons, and she'll be more impressed than worried if someone manages to track the hack on the sprinklers any further than the loop she's put in place to prevent anyone from finding the source.

She holsters her own guns, pulling her coat closed.

For a moment, there's a criticism on her tongue, but she thinks better of it. She's not sure can argue that Brady didn't deserve to die, even though she knows that The Machine would think differently, where She in Darrow. Root can't help but take Her beliefs into account right now.

John nods in thanks, but says nothing else for a time, waiting until they're further away from the scene of the crime as it were. He feels no guilt over Brady's death, but also knows Root well enough now to suspect she might have something to say about it.

The Machine had never given him or Harold clear directions on how to deal with their numbers. It was just a matter of preventing a violent crime, and while John understands it had gotten complicated toward the end, his own thoughts on a certain type of man will never change.

But that isn't the only reason he'd taken the shot.

"I know you can take care of yourself," he says after they've made it a few blocks away. "But without the Machine in your ear feeding you information, mistakes can still be made. If it's you or someone else, I'm going to shoot that person."