[ WP ] Write the third episode of non-existant series . Make us curious about what happened before episode 3 , and what happens after .

Daniel sighs, shaking his head, as the waiter places their plates on the table in front of them. The young man's piercing blue eyes glance at him and his companion, then roll upwards, as if he'd seen it a million times before, before he walks away. 
 
 `` So,'' he says, to break the awkward silence. `` You know why...?'' 
 
 The other man - an older man with no hair to speak of and dull brown eyes - scoffs. `` Nobody knows *why* it happens,'' he drawls. `` But I *do* know that yer friend's gettin' into some deep shit by lookin' into it. If she insists on gettin''erself killed, I might as well give'er some pointers.'' 
 
 Daniel blinks. `` Well, uh... that was blunt.'' The man chuckles, a single eyebrow twitching upwards slightly. 
 
 `` I pride myself on it. The only kind'a person you can trust in these parts is someone who does n't try to hide th' truth.'' There is a brief pause, and then he continues. `` Mos' people'round'ere try to hide it. Don' want history repeatin' itself an' all.'' 
 
 Daniel nods, taking in this information. He already knew, to an extent, but this confirmed his suspicions. `` Well, that's alright, I guess, Mr... what's your name, anyway?'' 
 
 `` Jackson. Jackson Harper.'' The older man straightens his tie. `` I was the last person to look into th' Clarkson City disappearances. And --'' his voice lowers to a whisper -- `` the only one to survive an investigation.'' 
 
 -- - 
 
 She turns away from the door to the man's office, scowling. That had been another dead end -- another complete waste of time! How many more was she going to find? 
 
 Her phone lets out a small beep, and she retrieves it from her pocket. Another message from Daniel. 
 
 > *found some1 u might want to talk 2; meet me at the diner* 
 
 She stares for a second, then sighs and puts her phone back in her pocket. She realizes, very quickly, that'someone' refers to the man that Daniel had said he'd try to contact. she had n't thought he *actually knew someone, * but it seems he does. Someone who, judging by the text, knew about her investigation. Or what she was investigating, at least. 
 
 She's so occupied with her thoughts that she runs straight into a man on the way out of the building. `` Sorry,'' she mumbles, as the young brunette quickly shrugs her off, as if he'd seen it a million times before, and continues walking. *Focus on the here-and-now, Jean, * she reminds herself, firmly. *We can wonder about who Daniel knows when we meet them. * 
 
 It takes no time at all for her to get to the diner. There, she finds Daniel - the blonde has somehow managed to look even worse than usual, his hair messy and dark shadows under his eyes as if he had n't slept in a week - and his supposed contact, a short, bald man in an old, dark brown suit. `` Jean Pierce? Jackson Carter,'' he says, stretching out a hand. She takes it immediately, before settling down in the chair next to Daniel. `` Danny'ere tells me yer lookin' into the disappearances.'' 
 
 `` Well, yeah,'' she replies, shrugging slightly. `` Anything you know about it, or...?'' 
 
 `` Oh, don' get me wrong,'' he says, between fries. `` I wan' ya to figure out wha' happened as much as anyone else. It's just, nobody's ever survived an investigation.'' 
 
 `` Besides him,'' Daniel interjects. `` He was a detective, too. Apparently.'' She raises an eyebrow. 
 
 `` Really?'' 
 
 He takes a deep breath. `` Yes, really. Lem me tell ya -- this town's hidin' somethin'. I dunno what, but it's *bad. * All the cases here are par for th' course, up until you come across the disappearances. Nobody can explain it. Every five years, somebody goes missin'; we've never figured out a pattern, and anybody who actively *goes lookin' for the culprit* disappears too. I only survived'cause I did n't push m' luck and go out looking for a murderer.'' 
 
 A slight glint of green grabs her notice, from out of the corner of her eyes, but it's nothing. It's just a random passerby, whose shirt had been hit by a stray beam of sunlight. `` So... what you're saying is, looking around like I have been is... a bad idea?'' 
 
 He stares at her, his expression unreadable. `` What I'm sayin', kid, is that if y' *want* to die, keep on lookin' into this. I stopped th' moment I got to the detectives' disappearances,'cause I knew that if I didn', I'd be a statistic. Nobody ever questions the disappearances'round here unless they're an outsider.'' 
 
 `` Wait, wait, wait. You said you'd give her pointers, not repeat a warning over and over,'' Daniel says, his eyes narrowed. 
 
 `` So I did,'' Jackson says, nodding. `` So I did. Well, if y' really want my help, there's only one bit of advice I can give ya.'' He leans in close, and the next thing that comes out of his mouth is a whisper. `` Charles Clarkson.'' 
 
 She raises an eyebrow. `` Clarkson? Like --'' He puts a hand over her mouth. 
 
 `` Shush, shush! Listen -- *listen. * Charles died a *long* time ago, but his death was the first disappearance. If y' *really* want to figure this one out, yer gon na have to figure out what happened t' *him. * But be *careful. * Everyone disappeared the moment they started lookin' into the Clarksons -- I bet ya they're responsible for this, but I'd sooner get myself drawn and quartered than get'em arrested for it.'' 
 
 He straightens up a little. `` Now, don' tell anyone what I just said unless they never had a *damn* thing to do with this city. Alrigh'? You could get yourself killed. Or me. I don' want to lose my life just'cause I helped somebody else get themselves killed.'' With that, he grabs the plate in front of him, stands up, and walks away. Jean sees him dump his mostly untouched meal into the garbage before he leaves. 
 
 `` Need anything else?'' She turns to look at the source of the voice. It's just a waiter, with a nervous smile on his face. She ca n't blame him; after what Jackson had just done, she'd be nervous that they did n't like the food, too. 
 
 Her gaze is drawn to a scar on his neck, a long, jagged mark that stretches down into the collar of his shirt and out of sight. How... strange. She shrugs, after a second, hoping that he has n't noticed her staring, and says `` No, thanks.'' He nods, before turning to leave. His eyes linger on her for a second too long, and she internally groans; he *had* seen her staring, had n't he? 
 
 `` That expression is never good,'' Daniel observes, a small grin on his face. She waves him off. 
 
 `` It's nothing. That waiter had a weird scar, and I stared for a few seconds too long, that's all.'' He looks skeptical, but nods. `` So... any other leads?'' 
 
 -- - 
 
 She runs into Jackson again, much later, when she's at the police station. He avoids her stare, muttering things to himself and rushing out the door before she can even say `` Hey.'' She shrugs; he had every right to avoid her, considering what she was about to do. 
 
 As a detective, working on a case - whether she was from another city or not - she had access to the database. And that meant she could look up this'Charles Clarkson' figure. 
 
 Nobody raises any eyebrows when they see her walk by; her brown trenchcoat ( so *generic, * but so *cool* ) gives her identity away immediately. As if anyone else in Clarkson City was a redhead, anyway. She sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of black and brown, just like Daniel. Not the best thing ever, but she had n't had any reason to dye her hair so far... 
 
 The first place she finds in the station that has a way to access the database is a dimly-lit room that had clearly not been accessed in around three years. It's a dark, dusty room, with several glowing terminals along the walls. She approaches one, and suddenly she is n't so sure if she'll be able to get what she needs. If this room ( and thus, these terminals ) had n't been accessed in several years, who's to say it would recognize her name? 
 
 She logs in anyway, entering her name and pressing her thumb to a scanner. Miraculously, it works, and she immediately types in'Charles Clarkson.' 
 
 ``..let's see here... Charles Clarkson II, born to Charles Clarkson I, born 1947, declared dead in 1976... home-schooled, generic'child prodigy' shtick, specialized in chemistry, no family outside of his parents and his brother... what happened to you?'' She wonders aloud, staring at the console inquisitively. 
 
 Then, she sees it. A picture of the man himself, just before his disappearance. He looks... strange. His smile is empty, his eyes are dull, and his dark brown hair is in disarray. 
 
 > *In the years leading up to his disappearance, Charles came down with an unidentified illness. Though most say that these years were his glory days, and in many ways they were, they were also his last. Charles disappeared on June 5th, 1976, and was declared dead in September of that same year. * 
 
 A note from a detective that came before her, summarizing what the terminal had to offer. But she does n't pay too much attention to it; her eyes linger on the note for only a few minutes, before she notices something odd. 
 
 On Charles's neck is a scar. A long, jagged scar, stretching down into the collar of his shirt and out of sight. Just like... *just like -- * 
 
 `` The man from the diner!'' She exclaims, eyes widening. She immediately rushes out the door -- she's got to warn the others! 
 
 -- - 
 
 `` I was wonderin' if you'd be here. I've already told th' kids about you, y'know.'' 
 
 The figure standing across from him does n't respond. They just nod, as if this was nothing new. 
 
 `` You're gon na try t' kill me now, right? Good thing I prepared for this.'' 
 
 He pulls out his pistol in the blink of an eye, and fires it off even faster. The figure's eyes seem to glint for a moment, before they dart to the side, dodging one, two -- the gun's out of his hands before he can even fire off a third shot, and a triumphant grin crosses the figure's face as he grabs the knife out of his hands. `` Wh --'' 
 
 `` They always do that,'' the figure muses. `` You had me, for a moment. But a moment does not last forever. A moment can change. All it takes is the blink of an eye... and *everything goes back. *'' The man blinks, and his eyes, once blue, now look strange and inhuman and *red* for a second -- 
 
 *snap*
