John had decided to visit the market before shipping back to the depot to train new recruits. He wanted to pick up a few bits and pieces for him and pippa before they headed south to escape the eyes of whitby once again. 

He admired the local craftsmen as they worked and peddled their wears on the market fronts. He looked at the woolen blankets on the stand and thought about taking one back for the unborn child. He found a couple that he liked and paid the woman behind the market stall before continuing along. 

The market was busy. They must have had a decent catch at sea as most of the market stalls were full of stock. He admired the woolen jumpers that were weaved in a way that if anything happened sailors could identify the pattern from whitby. John looked up. Someone caught his eye

They had sacked him. Sacked him over that bloody blaze! As if he was to blame! As if he had not suffered when he witnessed the entire stock of Gazettes ready for distribution the next morning in flames. It was supposed to be his breakthrough! Oh the scandal he had conjectured uncovered! And it had gone up in flames with no prospect of reprinting it until the Gazette found a new temporary printer. That had been suffering enough, and when he had been called into the temporary offices the next day, he had expected to commiserate with his editors. Instead, he had been told the Gazette could no longer be seen to work with him.

Cowards! Backing down now only made things worse! What sort of self-respecting news agency cared more about placating the town bullies than about freedom of press!? But never mind! He didn’t need the money. He’d bide his time, work on an even bigger story and go to the Whitby Times instead. Maybe even the York Evening Standard. The Whitby Gazette folk would come to rue their pusillanimity.

Dressed in a simple black suit and bowler hat, Gareth strolled around in the market place, contemplating these things with a sullen expression. He had originally come to listen to the gossip around him. The police had not yet figured out who had set the Gazette offices on fire – the fact that it was arson was undisputed – and Gareth investigate the matter on his own. Ordinary folk often knew more than they were telling the police. But he couldn’t focus. He kept replaying the conversation with his editors over and over in his head and he kept imagining all the ways in which he would make them regret their decision. So absorbed in thought was he, that he did not notice the young man watching him.

John looked once more at the gentleman that caught his attention. It couldn't be could it? He wished his brother was here as he would recognise him in a heart beat. Where was Joe when you needed him.

John was deep in thought about the whole situation. He was already facing time. Could this end up making things worse. What if it was the wrong person? What if John was imagining things because of the injury...but he was sure it was that bastard! Who'd harmed his family and also those attached!

John watched him for longer. Using the skills he'd learned on the army to stalk and be unseen to watch his actions

Realizing that he was unable to focus on any of the market chatter, Gareth finally just bought some bread and a couple of plums and decided to go back to his rooms. Turning off the market place onto Church street, he decided he couldn't be bothered with the crowd and disappeared into a narrow lane to take an ill-fated short cut...

John stuck to the shadows. It was that lowlife reporter that had made Joe and his wife's life hell. It was the same one who'd cause him grief with the army. that bastard John muttered to himself under his breath while watching him walk through the lane. John spoke "so your the man wreaking people's lives"

The voice pulled him out of his thoughts at last. That did not sound good. Gareth turned, decided the shadowy figure looked pretty strong, turned again, and ran off like a man.

John smirked. Even with an injury john could still probably catch him and proceeded to chase after him. Despite the burning in his legs and chest he kept going. God this injury had made him seriously unfit. That was something he'd need to sort and began to search the streets looking for Gareth

He didn't pay attention to where he was going. His only aim was to get away from the man who clearly had a score to settle. Unfortunately for Gareth, that drove him right into a yard built under the cliff, with the only entrance being the way he came. There were some fisherfolk at work mending a net. They looked up, then continued their work disinterested. Gareth turned around. "Look, mate... I don't know what you want, but you've got the wrong person!" he started.

John barrel rolled straight into Gareth and within seconds was on top of him gripping his shirt by the neck "you know fucking fine well what I want! I want you to leave my family the fuck alone!"

John snarled "I was the disgrace to my family! I went to the army to give my family a chance without me screwing things up! I served my country and my regiment and what did I get as a reward. Three bullets in me and they send me home to recover!" And what to find?" He says as he slams Gareth into the ground for dramatic effect "that some God dam report has dragged my name through the gutter to make a name for himself" John began to feel his rage building even higher and he continued "and now i find myself awaiting arrest to be transported off to military prison"

Before he realised his actions. John had clenched his free hand and struck Gareth on the jaw. "Now I can handle that but you also dragged my sister in law and my little brother through the ringer aswell" an evil smile crossed his lips and he spoke once more. "Now perhaps you've fucking realised who I am! And now you will keep my family's name out your God dam paper! Because if you don't! I will find you! Am I clear?

Gareth screamed like a guinea pig being murdered when his pursuer flung himself forward.

The fisherfolk looked up from their work.

He fell to the ground even before John slammed him down and he balled up, trying to protect himself. All the same, his head knocked the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he squeaked. But just then he felt a sharp blow to his jaw. This was how he was going to die! It took a moment to realize it when his attacker had stopped shouting and a moment longer to remember what was said.

"All clear, all clear," he cried. "I didn't mean any harm! I promise!"