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  1. Episode 9: It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie August 6th, 1946. Los Angeles, California. Waverly Memorial Hospital Jack Thompson sat in bed looking through the files that Samberly had delivered to him. Police reports on the attacks in New York. The SSR case files on the incident at the Met Hospital. There had to be a connection. A man who looks like Sousa shows up and shoots him to get his hands on Carter’s file. Then Sousa shows up at Auerbach just as all the other agents are called out to assist at the hospital? Jack Thompson did not believe in coincidences. Especially when they surrounded Peggy Carter. He grunted as he adjusted his pillow, and some files and newspapers slid off the bed the floor. Cursing under his breath, Jack reached down and picked up the newspaper. He saw the picture on the front page and froze. It was a picture of Joseph Manfredi with his father. The caption read, “Joseph Manfredi and suspected mobster Silvio Manfredi refusing to comment on recent slayings on August 3rd.” Jack quickly consulted the files. He found an edition of the LA Times. It’s front page was a picture of the sheriff having a press conference to give their answers for the Arcade incident. In the corner of the picture, just within view of the cameras, was Joseph Manfredi, looking despondent at the passing of Whitney Frost. Jack checked the date of the picture. August 3rd. Either Joseph Manfredi was able to be in two places at once, or… “Son of a bitch,” Jack breathed. Then he threw the covers off him and scrambled to the chair where his clothes were set. Manhattan, New York City. The mansion of Silvio Manfredi. Count Nefaria sat in Silvio’s office, talking into the phone on his desk. “The situation here is developing nicely. I believe it’s time for you to return to New York.” Dmitri’s impression of Joseph Manfredi’s voice sounded low in response. “I wouldn’t have a problem with that, boss. I’ve been getting tired of playing nursemaid to these clowns.” Nefaria smiled. “You really have captured young Joseph’s voice perfectly. Have all of his men been accounted for?” “Yeah, there all here at the restaurant just like I asked ‘em, so’s Nonna. What do you want to do with her? Same as the rest?” Nefaria shrugged. “It’s a shame, but yes. No witnesses. Then take the private plane back to New York. Understood?” “Gotcha, count. See you in a few days.” “Good. See you then, Mr. Manfredi.” Nefaria chuckled and hung up the phone. Then turned in his seat to see Joseph Manfredi leaning in the doorway. The young gangster smirked at the count. “Hey, Nefaria? Are you talkin’ to me?” Nefaria cleared his throat and rose from his seat. “Forgive me, Joseph, but I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, I think you do, count,” Joseph said dangerously. “I heard you saying something about my voice, and that ‘Mr. Manfredi’ stuff. You were talking to Dmitri, weren’t you?” Nefaria tightened his grip on his cane, keeping his voice calm. “Joseph, my boy. I understand you have a lot on your mind. Your father’s troubles, the tragedy with Miss Frost. You are jumping at shadows.” Joseph drew closer to Nefaria, not breaking eye contact. “You were setting up a hit! Who do you think you are giving out orders to that nut? He works for my pop, not you!” “Your father,” Nefaria said matter-of-factly. “Only sent Dmitri to take your place under my suggestion. As you can tell with your father’s issues with these vigilantes, Silvio is not the man he was. He requires a guiding hand to ensure the continued prosperity of the Maggia.” Joseph snorted. “Well, it ain’t going to be you. You’re two gorillas got trounced by Carter and those other freaks. And when my pop hears your making moves on your own with Dmitri…” “Have a care, boy!” Nefaria snapped. He paused, and took a breath to steady himself. “I only wish to advise your father. And I am willing to advise you, as well. You have a chance to regain a place of honor in the Maggia. It would be foolish to risk that by jumping to conclusions.” Joseph stared unblinking at the count, then smirked and turned to the door. “You don’t scare me, count. You are done. As soon as I let pop know.” The front door of the house slammed shut. Nefaria watched through the window as Joseph got in his car and drove off down the street. Hammerhead and Kangaroo stepped behind Nefaria as he continued to gaze forward. “Young Joseph has become tiresome. Follow him. Make sure he doesn’t reach his father.” Los Angeles, California. Polizzi’s. Jack Thompson pulled up to curb outside of the restaurant. He checked his loaded pistol then replaced it in his holster. He could feel the stiches in his chest tighten under the strain. He breathed deep to calm his nerves. And in the silence, he heard the sounds of multiple gunshots from inside Polizzi’s. Jack jumped out of the car and ran to the door of the restaurant. He grabbed the handle and slowly pushed open the door. The dining room of the restaurant was the site of a massacre. Five Manfredi family enforcers were dead, slumped over on tables and laid out on the floor. Each one had a bullet hole in their head. On the far end of the dining room, Jack could see a man that looked like Joseph Manfredi with gun drawn. He had his back to Jack and was pointing his gun at Nonna Manfredi who was kneeling on the ground, begging for her life. “Giuseppe! Giuseppe, per favore! Sei un bravo ragazzo! Non farlo per favore!” “Calmati,” the man said with barely any emotion. “Fai la pace con Dio. Questo e il tuo momento.” “SSR!” Jack shouted. “Put down your weapon!” Dmitri turned to see Jack and Nonna scrambled away, screaming in fear. Dmitri spun back and took aim at Nonna, only for Jack to fire a warning shot. Dmitri ducked behind a table and returned fire. Jack fired again, aiming for his opponents head. The bullet struck Dmitri in the cheek, sending him flying backward. Jack rose from his cover and slowly walked toward his opponent. He was lying still on the ground. Jack gave a soft kick to the body, causing the head to turn the other way and showing Jack Joseph Manfredi’s face. There was hole and scarring where Jack’s bullet had hit. But there was no blood, no bone. Just a white, ceramic-like material. “What the hell are you?” Jack breathed. ‘Joseph’s’ eyes opened and kicked the legs out from under Jack. Jack groaned as he looked at Dmitri discarded his ruined mask. “Me?” he said in a perfect imitation of Jack. “I’m Agent Jack Thompson of the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” OK: Can Jack capture the Chameleon? Or can Chameleon kill or elude Jack? Stay Tuned and Find Out! Game On!

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