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Riley felt her phone vibrate and saw that it was a response from Ronnie he was hanging out with her sister, which she didn't really mind she set her phone back down as she read about the body being found in Seattle but it really wasn't much to go on with that story. She closed her eyes for a moment letting out a slight yawn, and quickly held her side it still hurt like hell to breath heavily or even yawn. As Riley checked her Facebook page she read the usual stuff, even if she wanted to move out of Justice she had gotten really attached to her roommate Cecily as well as Ronnie. She also did make a promise to help him find out what happened to Danica which she wasn't willing to break it no matter what.

When the subject of her next tour date, that was of course set back now due to her accident she wasn't sure when that will start for now it was certainly going to be pushed back due to her manager forcing her to take some time off. Riley read through the weird posts about her and how she is apart of some conspiracy. She just sort of laughed the weird stories off as Riley reached for her tea and took a drink of it once more and continued to eat her Chinese food. Riley quickly finished eating her food as well as her tea, she got up from her couch and started to make her way towards the trash can dropping the box of Chinese into the trash can. Riley moved towards the sink she quickly started to wash it out then setting it into the dishwasher with the rest of the dishes to be cleaned. She decided to then send a text out to Cecily and see how work was.

"Heya CeCe, how is work going?"

Riley hit send and moved over towards her computer once more and decided to just play a little bit of Candy Crush, just out of boredom she really didn't have any plans yet she felt more safe in her apartment more then anything at the moment.

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Any reservations that Cecily had about Natasha melted away. She couldn't begin to imagine the pain and trauma of cancer. She worked in forensics for a reason: what's dead had already died. There was no fear, no pain, no uncertainty as to whether or not someone would still live. "I'm so sorry," Cecily squeaked, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Natasha, leaning forward. "We had an armed assault just a week ago or so, left me a bit paranoid...Are you sure you're okay to work?"

She followed Natasha over to the bodies, handing the woman a scalpel. She liked Natasha more and more by the minute, enjoying someone who seemed to be honest and capable in Justice for once. "Consider myself ready to cram for a midterm," Cecily joked a bit, smiling. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out, glancing at the text from Riley. Quickly, her fingers dashed across the keyboard as she sent one in return.


Admittedly, she had grown a bit weary of hiding out in Roy's bachelor pad. And it felt silly, until he was shot and didn't come back, telling her to go somewhere safe. The prospect of going home and sleeping in her own bed couldn't have been more enticing. Caesar lived in the Boston Heights as well. Maybe he'd be willing to protect Riley as well, though his grieving process likely hadn't finished. She put her phone away in her pocket, before returning her attention to Natasha and the corpses.

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Tuesday shook her head slightly at Ronnie's answer. She knew that he'd been trying to be sober a bit more, and she could understand it, mostly. Drugs tended to reduce mental clarity, not add to it. She tapped her fingers against the table, thinking through her limited storage. "Well, only shit I've got is heroine," Tuesday admitted. "Her name is...." Tuesday paused, trying to think of the name. "Cathy Charlotte Constance....Something like that. You could probably google it if this," whack, "stupid thing," whack "would work!" She hit the keyboard with her hand again, only for the computer to practically taunt her, saying that Microsoft Word wasn't responding. She groaned a bit, tugging on the skin underneath her eyes. Tuesday lacked the money to replace it, and she didn't feel comfortable with profiting off of her sister's fame. Otherwise, she could've just done a "tell all" about growing up with the famous Riley fucking Ridgeway.

Her frustration only had increased, of course, since Ronnie confirmed her fears. Marc Tinder was in town, and Tuesday went over to the loose floorboard her stash was concealed underneath. Pulling out the bag filled with drugs, she tossed them over to Ronnie. "Keep this shit safe and if he asks, I'm a model citizen, yeah? Marc Tinder isn't someone to mess with--we went to fucking Murder High together."

She hit the computer again, and this time, Internet Explorer pulled up. She quickly typed in a simple search, and stepped aside, letting Ronnie see the results that turned up. "Forensics in Justice should pull something up...Other than a shit ton of murder cases."

A smirk crossed his lips again as he followed after Marc with an air of change surrounding him, looking way too enthusiastic for a man about to investigate a dead couple's apartment. Now this was the kind of thing Felix had been dreaming about. Working with an FBI agent. He was almost in tears at how lucky he was for this to have happened to him. Right place, right time. Or maybe. Wrong place, wrong time. He couldn't be sure yet, but chances were this Marc Tinder hadn't done any investigations on him, he was just a clean slate in Justice, nothing was known about him.

That's what he hoped for anyways. As he walked into the building with the agent, Felix flashed the officers a smug grin, as they probably recognised him as the one going around the building. But maybe. Just maybe this Mr Tinder would somehow be his new bodyguard. This was be such a change in surroundings! Of course, he couldn't be on the forces of good forever, his story might be bias and too one sided.

Gloves slipped on, he walked in carefully, wandering by Tinder's side and shrugged. "Not an awful lot, they were like the model couple, knew that much." Suddenly he remembered. "Actually, the incident involving the Whites, I heard the beat cops talk about the psychologist being late. Then I figured out who they talked about. Dr Keller! What a coincidence isn't it?" He said recklessly, too excited to keep his lid on, but just quietly enough so only Marc would hear him.

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@Morose - Roy looks over towards Tuesday as he catches her stash and shoves it into his pocket. "So, same ol' same ol'" he chuckled out, thinking about how many times he had sat there and hid whatever she needed and told people she was that so called model citizen. Standing up he walks over to the computer and takes a gander about the forensics department and who he assumed was Riley's girlfriend - maybe he could get in there and find some details on what he was looking for. "Maybe it is time we both went and visited your sister."

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Marc perked a brow at Felix's words and shook his head a little bit. "There are no such things as coincidences," he said as he turned around slowly in spot as his head tilted back and he glanced up before looking ahead of himself once again and continued to search around.

"Six months ago a woman was murdered in this very apartment but it is claimed to have been a suicide. Shortly after the man that killed her moved in, and then last week he supposedly kills himself, his shrink, and his wife," Marc says as she runs his hand along the edge of the wall where it turns to go down the main hall to the front bedroom.

"Now, as a murderer why would you move into the very apartment of the woman you killed? Where you wanting to cover something up, or where you looking for something?" he said more to himself than towards Felix. Stopping at the bedroom he cocked a brow before turning on his heels and walking to the other bedroom and glancing into it. "And why would a wife sleep separately from her husband? Especially a newly married couple," he said as he took note that Cameron's things were in one room and Lyndsay's were in the other. Pulling out his tablet he did a quick search and shook his head slightly. "Marriage license, date of marriage, 3 days before moving in here? Sloppy," he said before tucking the tablet back away.

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"Yes, I'm fine," she said with a bit of a smirk on her lips. It probably would have done Tasha good to take some more time off before she really got back to things but she was never one to just sit there and watch the clock tick by. Two fights with cancer in the last 4 years; six months more or less each time, she had taken off a grand total of 30 days from work and even then still kept in the loop. She found it easier to deal with things if she had something else to focus on; though this last bought was far harder than the first and she found herself weaker at this point than she had expected.

"Much slower paced than in the ER. Least here if I sit down for five minutes no one will bleed to death," she said as she looked at the body before she got started fully and gave a curt nod to Cecily. "Well hopefully no one will bother us today, shall we get started?" Natasha was used to teaching at this point, having worked in a teaching hospital before she had moved to Jaipur, even if it wasn't what she was strongest in. What she did know was the human body and as she worked she spoke; mapping it out both technically and nearly lyrically. She could make a scalpel nearly sing as she cut and moved, and weighed, and took notes; quickly and accurately dissecting the person but at all times showing the utmost respect for not only the general wonder of the human condition but for the person.

Stopping she rested her scalpel down and gathered a perplexed look on her features as she leaned in closer and took a look at the bruising on Alicia's body. Looking over at the paper work that was done so far and then back at the bruising. Tilting her head to the side she over to Lorna's body and look a look before glancing over towards Cecily after looking a the paper work for Lorna as ell and tapping her finger against her hip. "Would you recontact a Mr. Caesar Gonzalez. There is a note here that he was contacted for release of these two bodies. I will need them at least another 24 hours," she said as she flipped the files closed.

"This one was business," she said as she pointed towards Lorna's corpse. "This one was personal," she said as she hand flipped over and motioned towards Alicia. Sighing a bit she glanced around the room before her eyes fell onto Cecily and she cocked a brow.

"You wouldn't happen to have a hair dryer around here would you? One with a defuser would be ideal," she said as she placed the folders back down on the side of the examination table and looked at Alicia's corpse. "I have an idea," she added as she crossed her arms over her chest, lifting one arm and rubbing the back of her neck as she stretched it out. She was not feeling up to par. She was used to sixteen to thirty-six hour shifts on her feet, running around as if it was the end of the world. Now after a couple of hours of standing pretty much in one place she was already feeling it.

Mali listened to Relic's explanations and thought it over. She allowed the fanciful part of her brain to have free reign while doing this because this clearly wasn't a "normal" situation, so sticking with established ways of thinking probably wouldn't do her any good. The necklace itself didn't appear to be anything special. Beyond the price range of a kid in college or younger? Most certainly, but the fact that it was even publicly available spoke quite a bit about its real status.

Given that it is apparently the target of a citywide conspiracy, the fact that it was out in the open probably meant that it was meant to be there. Perhaps as a way of having it trade hands in a completely discreet manner. Nobody bats an eye at somebody buying a necklace from a jewelry store. The pawns are positioned and everything remains in the shadows. If that was indeed the case, then Relic probably threw a wrench in that whole plan. But what was the plan for the necklace?

Again, it didn't appear to be anything special, but perhaps it was a key to something greater? Either literally or metaphorically, it could be the only way to access something of worth to a shadow organization. Mali said none of these musings to Relic. Right now it was total conjecture, and that wouldn't help anything.

"So why are you carrying it around? You're just making yourself a giant target. You could do something like stick it in a box, tie that box to a cinderblock and dump it in the ocean. You'd know its general location, but it wouldn't be easily fetched by people actively out to get you." Mali decided not to bring up the other elephant in the room. She figured that she would rather figure it out for herself or ask at a better time than now. Priorities.

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Cecily laughed, grinning at Natasha's comment. She was a woman after her own heart, someone who understood the need to joke about death, in order to cope with it. If Cecily didn't let herself make jokes about corpses, she would've been back at the therapist, talking about the overwhelming urge to just walk into the bay. Her friend Bonnie had largely been the same, though the part time forensic artist had been hospitalized. Cecily never made an attempt. "As long as no crazed blondes burst in through the door, I think we'll be fine," Cecily replied, watching as Natasha worked. It was like she was back in her advanced biochemistry course at university, asking the professor questions whenever she was stumped, only her examination would be of a far more practical and urgent nature.

"Consider it done," Cecily nodded, pulling out her phone. She didn't check to see if Riley had replied, figuring her roommate was getting some much needed rest. A verbal phone call tended to be protocol, but this was the one place where Cecily made an exception. She absolutely loathed talking on the phone, preferring to write out her message exactly, and avoid any awkwardness from a phone. She sent the following text to Caesar:


Cecily nodded a bit, once again noting the fresh brand on Alicia. "She was branded as well--but not in the way a serial killer brands their victims. Another stiff was branded too, but far older...It might be just a gang, organized crime, a cult...But the decedent definitely knew her killer." Noticing Natasha stretching, she couldn't help but imagine she was stiff. She tended to have to bounce up and down a bit to loosen her legs after long shifts. Fortunately, a hair dryer was kept as one of the more rudimentary analysis techniques--for ensuring sufficient dehydration of substances, helping the hair conscious workers, and for document analysis. Heading over to the cabinet, Cecily rummaged through, before pulling out a hair dryer. It was a bit beat up, and she extended it to Natasha. "This work?"

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"Precisely," Tuesday smiled, almost as cute as a button. Ronnie had stuck with her through some hard times, and on a few occasions, she had almost asked him to pretend to be her boyfriend. She hadn't dated a man in years, learning more about herself the more chemicals she took. Any proponents who explained homosexual tendencies as genetic would have had a field day with the Ridgeway twins--both of them enjoyed those of a female persuasion, after all. Watching over his shoulder as he looked at the forensics department, Tuesday didn't recognize the listing of names. The website didn't lend itself well to drug addicts attempting to track down the new coroner.

She frowned at Ronnie's suggestion. Mark was probably down at the Boston Heights. Unlike most of the cops in this city, the man wasn't an idiot. "Fine, fine. But if the feds are there," Tuesday paused, thinking of what would scream model citizen, "we met in AA, you're my sponsor and I'm five months clean." Most of her high school friends, she figured, didn't know about her second stint in jail, and five months seemed impressive enough.

"Your ass better not be driving," Tuesday grumbled, grabbing the few things she needed to leave the apartment. She didn't care if Ronnie had gotten hold of a clunker. He might have been getting off of the hard stuff, but Tuesday wasn't inclined to getting into any car he was driving. Getting into a car with an addict behind the wheel had resulted in her first stint in prison--she didn't look forward to a third. Public transportation in Justice wasn't too bad, as well. "Come on, let's go visit Rye."

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Caesar accepted the card with the barest of nods and took her hand briefly. This woman seemed to shoot straight without overtly revealing much that could not already be determined. He supposed it was a positive enough first meeting. At least his company retained the R&D facility contract, and with it access to the complex and equipment therein. Moreover, hanging onto the contract, or any decent contract nearby, gave them legal cause to carry and use otherwise restricted hardware, not to mention engage in investigations related to their contractor and personnel. Even if these people were directly responsible for the deaths of Alicia and Lorna, he would not give up that access. Hell, especially.

The thought of his girls struck him - the very recent memory of having to identify their bodies, having to experience the solid fact of their deaths. It began to overwhelm him. Fearing a noticeable break in his exterior demeanor were he to attempt speech, Caesar looked at the card once again, nodded a vague affirmation of what Mrs. Queensguard promised to set up, and turned to leave the room. She had appointments to keep, and he had his own things to do. Not the least of which was to arrange for the interment of his daughter.

Someone would have to take over this location in full while Caesar did what he did best: Finding fuckers and making them pay. But now that the issue of trust, on all levels, came into question, restaffing became necessary. His man, Keystone - he believed he could place his trust in him. After all, it was MSS that sought him out, not the other way around. But he wasn't much more qualified to run the entire location permanently than Caesar was to handle their Tech division. The large man had made a few good suggestions. Caesar was going to use them. Additionally, there was one person who, with assistance, he trusted to run this facility. But the conversation to recruit this person would be life-threatening.

The elder Mexican made his way from the conference rooms to the Security areas, less inviting places that were not quite as opulently furnished, and into the nearest employee lounge. He snapped a quick picture of Mrs. Queensguard's business card, front and back, then examined it closely. Regarding the small rectangle of rich pressed paper, he popped open the door to the microwave oven nearby and tossed it inside. He punched up fifteen seconds and watched as it slowly rotated.

As it cooked, he addressed his associate, Keystone. "You had some good ideas. I'm going to make those happen. You get in touch with your guys in London, your old Director knows what you're doing here now. I'm calling our offices in Seattle, get our tech team down here. At least the ones that Alicia hired last year. Let's get our own Agents in this place, keep a lid on what's going on here."

The momentum of the last few minutes altered as Caesar's phone buzzed quietly. An incoming text message (apparently actually from Cecily this time) drew his attention away from both serious personnel overhaul discussion and nuking the newly acquired business card. His eyes scanned over it, even as a look of bitterness crossed his face. Short seconds had a reply sent before his attention returned to the here and now:



Caesar changed his tone a bit, as he continued with Keystone, "I'm going to have to leave town for a few days, okay? I might be sending someone back, that's going to take over as Director here. Now, this is important: Do you remember the meal you prepared for us in my apartment? Good, don't say it out loud. That's how you'll know to trust this person."

Leaving the broad man wondering what the hell he was talking about, Caesar punched up the contacts on his satellite phone and began the first in a series of discussions that would shape the next week or so of his life, and his company for the foreseeable future. He rather wished he had a drink.

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Keystone summoned what manners he possessed, shaking Mrs. Queensguard's hand and intoning a quick "Thankya for your time, ma'am. We appreciate the personal touch you're takin' with this, really. Y'company's in good 'ands." He collected the paperwork and followed his boss/mentor out of the conference room. Yeah, he was really the smooth and savvy negotiator, rubbing elbows and blending in with the rich and powerful. Or not. Mostly not. He tried to shake off the somewhat awkward manner of his deprture, hoping that the woman would understand the newness of his position and not confuse it with a lack of competence.

The large man continued to follow Caesar through the complex until reaching their destination. He had expected to stop in one of their offices, and was surprised to see that the old man had chosen the lounge as their destination for serious, possibly game-changing discourse. It seemed a little odd at first, as they really never spent any time in here. Then he began microwaving the business card, and it started to make sense.

"Yeah, Boss. Heard clear n' loud, it is. I might be givin' it a wait 'till I'm someplace quiet to ring up neeps on a couple other matters, but I can press that personnel request to London right bloody now. You do what you've gotta. I'll 'old it down on this end, 'specially when we get our people flipped around."

He too punched up a number on his phone, intent on getting a couple of his people on board asap. Of course, where we was calling, the day was ending rather then beginning. Certainly, they wouldn't hold it against him. And if they did, they could wrap their anus around a doorknob. Keystone was an Acting Director now. So there.

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Lucas gave Roy a nod, eyes shifting again over to Risa as he finished off his breakfast, moving to stand as he picked up the plate, leaving his phone on the table with the message open as he moved into the kitchen, placing them in the sink as he looked over to Roy, giving him a nod. "Stay safe." He'd say idly, visibly seeming to relax somewhat as he moved out and closed the door behind him. Glancing over at Risa as she spoke up, he forced a half-smile. Risa had really kept him sane for the past few days, she'd been the only really calming thing when everything had been kicking his ass.

Moving back into the main room, he picked up the rifle he'd been looking at before, idly raising it and locking it into his shoulder, making sure that everything was properly aligned and working just fine. Lucas didn't really like rifles, he knew how to use them fine enough, but he preferred a handgun to anything bigger, rifles were a soldiers weapon, and he'd made a fair distinction many times between himself and a soldier, though, now it was harder to make that distinction, he wasn't exactly sure what he was, or what he was getting himself into any more. Risa was the only thing he still knew, the only thing he understood as he lowered the weapon, setting it down.

"You know I've only got like two shirts left, right?" He called out to Risa, choosing to try and distract himself with her for a bit, she was what he needed at that point, after all.

Risa just smirked to herself as she stepped into the bathroom and got dressed. Coming out as she pulled the towel from her hair and letting it spill out around her she smiled at him. "I can't help if your clothing looks better on me than it does you," she said in a coy voice as she spun around slowly and tied off the shirt at her waist instead of tucking it into her pants. Stepping over to the counter she picked up the plate of food that Roy had left for her and sat down at the table. She tried to eat but it was obvious that something was on her mind as she just sat there staring blankly at the plate as her fork tapped the edge of it.

He chuckled softly at her comment, it was the same excuse she always gave him, but there was still something refreshing about every time he heard it, something comforting. He watched as she picked up the plate of food and brought it over to the table, frowning somewhat as he saw the look on her face. Moving over, he sat down across from her, reaching over to gently take her hand in his own, eyes watching her closely as he sat there. "What is it?" He'd ask plainly, the same way he would any other time he could tell something was on her mind. When there was an issue with her, he always wanted to fix it, and he never beat around the bush.

Dropping her fork on the side of the plate Risa slowly as her eyes lifted to his, lacing her fingers with his as he took her hand. Sighing she slipped her chair around to the other side of the table, pulling it up close to him. Reaching up she cupped the line of his jaw gently in her fingers as she just looked at him, her engagement ring shimmering in the low light of the safe house. "I love you Lucas, you know that right?" she asked in a quiet voice, her voice trembled slightly as she spoke; a trait that was not common for her.

Watching her closely as she moved around the table toward him, he leaned forward somewhat as he felt the softness of her fingers against his jawline. Smiling softly at her, he watched her closely as he listened to her, that same smile shifting into a more concerned look as he heard her voice tremble. Reaching up slowly, he gently took her hand as she rested it on his jaw, lacing his fingers with his own and leaning down to kiss the back of her hand. "I know, Risa..." He assured her quietly, eyes never leaving her as he gently caressed her palm with his thumb. "You don't need to remind me." He forced a half-smile, he had a feeling he knew why she was bringing this up, but he didn't bother to push the issue, things were grim. If he wasn't so focused on distracting himself, he'd have brought it up himself.

Risa nodded slightly as she kept watching him, her free hand coming up and running along the line of his jaw, around his cheek bone, up and over his ear until her fingers slowly ran through his hair. Risa wasn't the most tender or romantic of people on the outside; it wasn't something she showed often but right then it looked as if she was just lost in his features; as if she was trying to memorize every last line and crinkle. The longer she sat there she sadder she seemed to look, and a shaky breath left her as she leaned in and pressed her lips tenderly to his. Kissing him softly and slowly, savoring each feel and taste of him with her eyes closed so tightly as her fingers curled in his hair. Lucas kept his eyes on her the whole while, studying her expression, as if trying to establish what she could possibly have been thinking of.

Slowly her lips peeled away from his and she whispered against them. "It's okay," was all she managed to choke out. "It's okay," she repeated in a whisper as she leaned back and smiled solemnly towards him her fingers trailing along his cheek as she stood up. Her lips rolled in as her tongue ran along the line of them; turning she took the chair she had been sitting in and pulled it over to the center of the room. Resting herself down in it she let her hair spilled out over the high of the chair with her back to Lucas. While he didn't exactly understand what she was doing, as she moved to sit away from him, a grim feeling in his gut started to hint as to what it was, hand shifting to the handgun he had tucked into his trousers.

"Do your job Perseus," she said in a monotoned voice as she stared blankly at nameless spot on the wall before her. Closing her eyes, she felt her breath hold as she waited; each second ticking by like it was a life time.

Moving to stand, he walked over toward her quietly, he watched Risa closely for a few moments, complete silence filling the safe house as she sat before him, with her back to him as she waited for the death she expected. Risa had always been smart, he wasn't surprised she'd figured everything out. Sighing softly, he remained there for a few moments, thoughts running through his mind about their situation, he could have put an end to it then, done his job and slipped back into normal life. But that thought was gone as soon as it came. Reaching up slowly, he drew back the slide of his handgun, pulling it off as he took the weapon apart, dropping it to the floor.

Risa held her breath, her fingers curling against the edge of the chair as she sat there. It wasn't truly that she had figured out much, just slowly put two and two together. She knew what happened to operatives who's cover was blown. If hers had been, she knew she would be taken out. The attack on the UN and being rushed out of the hospital told her something was off. Roy keeping them locked down in a safe house was another. She had kept trying to tell herself it was something else but when she sat down for breakfast she saw Lucas's phone still opened to the message and she knew that was it. It was over. She didn't like it but that was how the game was played. She figured he could just pulled the trigger, get it over with. He wouldn't be a target then. If he didn't do it, she knew they would send someone else. This way at least one of them got out alive. She wanted a wedding but she was willing to accept a funeral. Hearing the click of metal behind her she figured that was the hammer being drawn back and she felt her heart stop, waiting on the end.

"Fuck my job." He said plainly. Moving around her, he knelt down to her height as she sat there, setting one hand on her own as he watched her. "I would never hurt you, Risa, let alone kill you, anyone who thinks they can order me to can come and I'll kill them, instead." Lucas said firmly, eyes locked on her own as he sat there, shaking his head as he stood up, slowly and carefully pulling her hands upward to stand her up with him.

Her eyes shot open as Lucas spoke and the sound of metal hitting the floor echoed out behind her. Looking at him she could only nod. She knew if she argued with him at this point it wouldn't do any good. They were both stubborn people. They never listened to anything they didn't want to hear. It was one of the reasons they were together. The company bitched at them constantly for getting so close but they didn't care. It just drove them closer together. It seemed that was still going to hold strong even then. Curling her fingers around his she stood up slowly and finally remembered how to breath again.

"You say the most romantic things," she said with half a nervous chuckle as her hands came around him and she pulled herself close to him, tucking her head beneath his chin as she closed her eyes as she tried to calm the terrified pounding of her heart.

He couldn't help but smile at that, wrapping his arms tightly around her as he held her close. He was pleased she didn't argue with him on the issue, the last thing they needed to be doing was fighting over what to do, he wasn't going to follow that order, and he was pleased she didn't plan on pushing him to. "That's half the reason I was so good at work, my astounding charm." He joked, letting out a soft chuckle. He had needed the small bit of humour, something to keep him a little more relaxed as he watched her, turning his gaze to brush his lips against her own, kissing her gently as he slowly pulled back, hands on her shoulders.

Returning the gentle kiss, Risa couldn't help but smirk a bit at his words as she looked up at him. "You're a real wanker you know that right?" she said rolling her eyes a bit as she laced her fingers along his lower back and chuckled. He always was a smart ass and full of himself but oddly enough it was one of the things she found endearing about him.

"Now, you just need to work on getting better, I'll trust you with a rifle against whatever's coming more than Roy, any day." He said plainly, for some time now he and Risa had been something of an unstoppable force, but that was with the organizations help, it'd be tough going against it, but he didn't want to think of failure as a possibility. All he thought about was right now.

"Speaking of which, do you know where Roy stands with the company? I don't want to worry about him being the one to try to put a bullet through my skull," she asked as she let out a bit of a long huff. Roy had been the one to recruit her but last she had heard he was no longer working for them. Granted he had never really worked for them officially, he was basically like a sub contractor. If he was still part of the circle though she worried she would have to slit her old friends throat.

He nodded his head slowly, shrugging his shoulders somewhat as he glanced toward the door momentarily. "He got the order too, says he doesn't plan on following it." He said quietly, watching the door for a few moments before looking back to her. "Says that, anyway." He said quietly. Lucas saw no reason to keep his views to himself, Roy might've insisted he was with them, but in his eyes, right then, it was him and Risa against the world.

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@Morose - Ronnie just nods and holds his hands up in defeat before wandering to his place and stashing the stash for Tuesday. Looking over to her as he returns he chuckles. "Like I even know how to drive," he said shaking his head a bit and gathering his shit to head out. "Let's go see you sister, want to check up on her anyways and then maybe I can find out who to tap at the coroners office," he says before heading out for the bus. It wouldn't take too long to get over to Boston Heights. Taking a seat at the back of the bus he keeps an eye out as he always seems to, the usual ruffians are on the bus but nothing is standing out currently.

@Dragoknighte - Relic smirks a bit as he keeps driving around. "Yeah, that isn't a bad idea but I just got it a little bit ago. I want to check some things out. Heading down to the old department of records right now. I want to check out a few things but the city is so slow to get the older stuff put into the computers and online that I haven't been able to find what I am looking for. The place is open to the public and no one goes down there anymore these days. Like who besides some geek study architecture is really going to check shit in the city planning departments archives these days?" he says as he slips the pendant back in his pocket. "I found a picture of Peyton before she died with her sister and they had something similar they found on a dig. I know I have seen the object before here in the city I just can't remember where."

@Sigil - Well nothing happens with the business card other than the paper warming up a little. The door to the conference room had closed simply enough as Elizabeth got back to work on things she needed to do and shortly after she was seen leaving the facility and climbing into a waiting limo at the front. There a few nameless security folk that Alicia had brought in that she had hired before she had died. They are wandering the building and doing the usual security checks. For things seem calm - other than the Test message that Caesar got from Cecily about needing to keep ahold of Alicia's and Lorna's bodies for a bit because there was a break in the case.

@Nallore - Things seem quiet, at least on the home front. The computer is full of the usual stuff on Riley's pages - asking if she is okay, wondering why she is there, some saying she is part of it, or that she is only there so she can get attention. Time passes and such but it is still quiet. That is until there is a knock at the door. "Cecily, you there?" a voice asks, a familiar voice. It is Detective Gregory.

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Club AfterDark, a shit hole of a bar slash club in the DeadLight district of Justice. A hole in the wall with nothing but boarded up windows a the front and a lot of graffiti. The place had been there for decades, turning over hands from one person to another; handed down over the generations. Inside the walls were covered with layers of band flyers for local music, staples still in the walls from ages ago. A long bar along the middle of the room, a few tables but mostly open space in the center and a stage with a cage around it in the back. Along each wall was a row of booths, stained tables with broken open cushions in the seats. The floor was sticky as was the bar top from many decades of smoke, sweat, booze, and blood. The place was hard but it was popular. The underground in scene.

At the door was the usual line, already forming for the night to come. People didn't care that the place didn't open for a couple more hours, they wanted to get in and to do that meant you had to show up early. Freddy, the bars main muscle was standing there in his pimped out blue velvet suit and suede shoes of matching hue. The man looked like a joke, or he would have if it weren't for the 6'5 height and the weight of around 270lbs. The man was a brick shit out with a grin on his cheeks that was far to bright and happy for someone in his line of work but hey, Freddy made it work. Freddy had worked as the main security for the bar for the last ten years after a 5 year stent in prison for Manslaughter charges. Fucker stole his Big Mac, you never try to steal a mans Big Mac.

Inside at the back corner booth near the office sat the owner of the club, Trisha Burnmore. The club had been hers since her mothers murder over two decades before. Trisha was known to be a hard ass, she didn't put up with anything. She didn't care about the illegal shit that went down as long as the cops didn't bust the place up. Her patrons did that enough. From drugs, to illegal weapons, to prostitution. It all went through Club AfterDark and Ms Burnmore took her more than fair cut of the profits. While a hardass she wouldn't tolerate cruelty though and it was known if shit got started in her place they would pay the price.

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Natasha stood there looking at the bodies as Cecily said she would let Caesar know about the bodies needing to be held for a longer time than what had been expected. "Thank you," she said twice, with a bit of a pause between. Once for the call/text and one for the hair dryer. Plugging it in she went over to Alicia's water logged body.

"You know, humidity can be a real pain with bodies decomposing. It speeds it up. Pulling a body out of water makes it even worse. Granted things are not as bad here as they were in Jaipur. I watched a tech there in their morgue do this once so they could actually get the deceased's finger prints dried off enough to be able to make an identification. Thing is, we know who she is. We want to know who killed her. See this bruising around her neck? That took a lot to do of someone of her skin tone and apparent build. This took a lot of force. Normally things get washed away in the water but our skin is funny. It has amino acids and oils in it, it deposits and unless we scrub after something like this, it can be left behind," she said as she turned on the hair dryer and started fan it carefully over Alicia's neck for a bit.

Once the skin had dried out some what she used a scalpel to make a cut to take out a long patch of skin from the woman's neck. Laying the skin down on a set of gauze she pinned it down with the blade of two more scalpels. Turning the hair dryer back on she kept drying out the skin until it became taunt but wasn't yet shriveling up. Turning it off she let out a long breath. "So, think you can see if you can find a finger print on that now?" she asked as she looked over towards Cecily. It wasn't exactly an orthodox way of prepping human skin to get a finger print off of it. She had seen others use finger print dust before but she warned Cecily quickly that could smudge whatever remained. Perking a brow she remembered an old movie she had watched when she was in Jaipur. "Does that super glue trick really work?" she asked as she glanced towards Cecily and then at the piece of skin. (Pm for results)

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Risa nodded slightly before resting her head back down on his chest and sighing deeply. This was not how she expected things to go down when they got to Justice. They had a job to do but now the company wanted her dead and Lucas wasn't going to follow that order; so that meant he would be in their crosshairs as well. She worried that Roy would turn on them but right then she had to at least place a little trust in the man. If he had gotten the same message and hadn't put a bullet through her skull yet she at least was considering letting her live. The fact he was leaving them alone with so many firearms was another thing that placed her trust in him. Just the smallest amount and she wouldn't hesitate to slit his throat if it was needed to keep her and Lucas safe.

Giving Lucas a bit of a squeeze before she turned and wandered over to the pistols. She wasn't good with rifles, never had really trained with them but she knew pistols. That was mostly thanks to Lucas though. He had helped trained her with them. Granted looking back now she wondered how much of that was wanting to actually help her and how much of it was an excuse to keep his hands on her and others hands off of her. He seemed to enjoy adjusting her stance far more than he probably should have back in the beginning, through she knew she enjoyed it more than she should have let herself.

Picking up a few she walked back over to the bed and sat down, laying down on a towel over the sheets as she started to take them apart and clean them; checking them as she went. She wanted to make sure when the time came that everything was in order and they wouldn't have to worry about anything sticking or jamming on them. At least making sure as much as she could. She was quick and nimble with each weapon, her eyes focusing on each one but form time to time she would lift her eyes and look over to Lucas, that sad smile still on her lips as she did. She was worried but she felt it was better to let herself worry now, she doubted she would have the luxury later.

"You know, I am feeling better," she said as she finished with a Beretta and shoved the clip back in. Pulling everything back into place her eyes sparkled a bit as they moved over to his. "Think maybe you could cut these stitches out?" she said as she turned around and lifted up the back of her shirts to reveal the bare skin of her back. The skin had healed well enough not to need them anymore but they still needed to be cut out. "Shit is starting to itch like crazy..."

"Would you happen to know the general period in time Peyton and her professor were at that specific dig? I don't look it, but I actually majored in History, so I might have a bit more luck finding some information about this. Pretty much all of my contacts are outside California, let along Justice, so they're probably not related to the shit going down here." Mali arched her back in the car seat. It wasn't that the seat was uncomfortable per se, but her body was starting to tense up all over from staying in one position for too long.

The existence of other similar objects brought up other interesting questions regarding the necklace. Was it part of a series of similar necklaces, and whoever's at the top of this wanted to collect them all? Did the pendents act as different keys to different 'chests?' Maybe one was an original and every other one that was similar was a fake, and they were out to find the real necklace. Perhaps the necklaces did something unexpected of such a small piece of jewelry. Mali burned the image of the small thing in her mind. If she ended up seeing it again, she wouldn't overlook it.

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The Imperial Apartments were, well and truly, a new Harlem in Scott's eyes. Drug dealers, gun runners and addicts crammed into the same set of buildings, everybody fucked with everyone else, everyone except Scott that was. Scott figured he might've been the only one in those apartments completely clean, well, not completely, that word didn't apply to anyone in Justice, Scott just had less stains. He made his way down the hall, past a few of the addicts in the halls and a few thugs, one of them he could see still had a black eye, his own doing from the other day, man had been screwing with some student in an alley below the building while Scott came home from work. It hadn't gone well for him.

He might've been known by just about everyone in the building, but Scott still had a way of blending in so that everyone ignored him, the Imperial might've been a shit hole, but it was the shadows, and he liked staying in the shadows. Making his way down to the street, Scott started to make his way down toward AfterDark. Others avoided this part of town if they could, especially later in the day, but Scott was right in his element, nothing phased him around here, he walked down these streets like it was Pennsylvania avenue. Some people knew to avoid him, they were the kind of low lives he used to be, thugs, dealers, others said hi and gave him warm smiles, the few good souls stuck in lives too rough for them. He'd just smile back, never anything more.

It wasn't a long walk before he reached AfterDark, making his way along the line, he smiled toward Freddy, grabbing the man's hand to give it a firm shake, bumping shoulders with him. "Evenin' brotha', goin' easy on the Big Mac's today?" He chuckled, giving the man a pat on the back as he moved past him and inside. He got along with Freddy, the two had once lived similar lives, and he appreciated Freddy trying to work things out on the outside, as far as Scott knew he stuck out of trouble, he was a good man in his eyes. Moving inside, he saw his boss toward the back, he didn't say or do anything in relation to her, just making his way behind the bar.

He'd heard the stories about Trisha, and he knew well and good the kind of deals and trouble which went on in the bar, he didn't want anything to do with it, or with her. She was his boss, and Scott worked hard to keep their relationship that way, he stood out as little as he could. Moving behind the bar, he started to go through the usual routine, wiping it all down, making sure the glasses were clean as they could be, getting ready for the rush which would no doubt come. While Freddy and some of the other staff dressed up, made themselves look nice, he did anything but, jeans and a T-shirt were usually the best dressed he got, especially at work, helped him look normal, like nobody.

Just how he liked it.

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Riley looked at her various pages and feeds, the same old stuff since she had been out of the hospital and she had answered as much as she could having so many people that knew your face you couldn't respond to every single message. She sometimes got really sick of it and she would just turn off all her notifications or just ignore them all together. Riley got up from her couch and headed over towards the fridge and grabbed herself a bottle of beer, she looked at her phone seeing a text from Cecily she smiled slightly as she took out her phone to send her roommate a quick text.

"No car, so pretty much will be here all day see you whenever you get home."

Riley hit send as she grabbed a nearby bottle cap opener and twisted it off tossing the cap into the trashcan, she didn't see much of Cecily only for the times she had come to the hospital to visit her. As she was about to head back towards her couch Riley jumped suddenly causing her to gasp in pain and held her side. The voice sounded a bit familiar as Riley made her way towards the front door to the apartment, she looked through the peep hole in the door and remembered the face it was Roy from the block party. Riley then unlocked the door and opened it she eyed the detective up and down for a moment and then waved him in if he chose to. "Hey there, uhm Cecily is at work right now if you were looking for her. Would you like anything is she in some sort of trouble?" Riley asked, she wasn't sure why Roy was here and why he needed to see Cecily for.

He walked with Marc, his hands trailing through the air absent mindedly as he listened to the agent, gathering every word like it was an important jigsaw piece. It was truly remarkable how quickly the agent was assessing the situation, it was like he was trained specifically for this special set of circumstances. Felix supposed that eventually someone would find the exact situation that they'd be perfectly suited for. It just so happened today was Mr Tinder's lucky day. Or maybe he was always like this, Felix couldn't tell to be honest.

Felix's eyes picked up at the word sloppy and he took that as his cue to talk. Not that he was the sloppy kind, more that it seemed like Tinder's line of talking was over. He hoped it was the signal to start talking anyways. Truth be told, he didn't like this at all. Being stuck in a crime scene with an FBI agent. It was almost a death wish, one wrong word and he could be framed for all these murders and so-called 'accidents'. He nodded to him and took a look for any pictures of the "Happy" couple.

"Pardon me if I'm wrong" He started, putting a gloved hand to his chin as he pondered over his words. "But are you insinuating that this man, and this woman were working together? Like they knew about the Mr's work. They weren't a newly married couple at all?" His eyes gleamed. What a twist. "And pray tell, why would you drag in a newcomer like myself to learn all these secrets mr Tinder?"

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Cecily's phone vibrated incessantly, receiving texts from Riley and Caesar. She peeked at them quickly, before shoving the phone away, seeing no need to reply at the moment. Caesar continued to frighten her, but over the last week, she had become more accustomed to the grieving Mexican. Ironically, it was when Caesar was at his most dangerous that he ceased to terrify the forensic analyst.

"You're doubly welcome," Cecily replied, before watching Natasha get to work. Forensic analysts used entomology on occasion in order to date crimes, and while she was educated in Pittsburg and then employed in California, she hadn't learned too much about the field. She knew enough to follow the procedures and perform the needed calibrations, as it all boiled down to chemistry and biology in the end. "I have a feeling you'd like the Body Farm," Cecily commented, remembering the more disturbing technique developed there. It was a process called degloving. Skin could sometimes be peeled off in patches, and worn like a glove. A technician would then simply take a fingerprint, while wearing the skin of another.

With a fresh set of gloves on, Cecily nodded, grabbing the skin delicately. "Cyanoacrylate and heat, yes," Cecily replied, with a bit of a smile. "The carbon and tape method is simply awful...I really hate lifting prints off with the dust as well, it makes a complete mess. Heating iodine is my favorite method, mostly for the purple color it gives the print...But in honor of bad movies, we'll do the superglue and heat method."

Cecily set to work, motioning for Natasha to follow her, if she was curious. Fume hoods were generally the preferred method for doing it, but she had once heard that someone used a fish tank. Handling the patch of skin carefully, Cecily prepared a high molar concentration of cyanoacrylate and heated it, using a hot plate. Setting the makeshift contraption inside of the fume hood, Cecily watched carefully, seeing the print come to surface.

"Our latent print is now a partial print," Cecily grinned, excited for the small break in the case. Careful not to breathe in the fumes, Cecily collected the print that had formed, and then put the skin from Alicia on the tray next to her corpse. She slid the fingerprint inside of a bindle, filling out the paperwork and the information quickly. "I'll run it through A.F.I.S. and see if anything comes up," Cecily offered, though she was skeptical about it. "We're much more likely to be able to use this to test for suspects...Though we can't exactly force everyone in Justice to give us fingerprints....Thank you, Dr. Brinne."

And then, in a method to help with her own paranoia, Cecily removed the print from the bindle and photographed it. Having done so, she put it back inside, and texted a copy of the prints to Gregory. She expected that someone would burst in at any moment, ready to finish the job. The more she investigated the deceased, the more danger she felt she was in. Cecily already knew that she'd likely be killed for knowing too much.

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"Just making sure that you don't get any stupid ass ideas," Tuesday reassured him, jokingly hugging Ronnie with a single arm. She climbed onto the bus behind him, taking a seat by his side. It smelled awful on public transportation, and Tuesday let out a brief sigh, momentarily reflecting on how different her life could have been. Had she not made an idiotic choice in college, she wouldn't be sitting in a cramped bus that smelled of piss and farts. She glanced out the window, noticing as a confident man strolled by, acting like he couldn't care less where he was. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

No one lasted long in the Deadlight District with that attitude. "What do you think you'll even find?" Tuesday asked, not intending to sound unsupportive. "The police don't give a shit about anyone, man. It can't be healthy to fixate on it like this....Hell, you're only doing pot. It's weird as fuck snorting crack alone."

However, she wouldn't press the matter more than that. Coming from the infamous Murder High, Tuesday had seen her fair share of dead bodies. Answers never made anything better, justice never truly existed, and even revenge couldn't fix problems. For all she knew, Marc could've only been in town because Riley freaked out. He was the caring type, and she wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be the reason. "Look, I'm not saying nothing happened...But don't stop living because she can't," Tuesday said, grateful for the short and relatively uneventful bus ride. She could see the Boston Heights looming into view, and as soon as the bus stopped, Tuesday would get off and head towards the Classic Building.

"You texted Rye that we're coming over, right?"

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@Morose - "I told her i would be stopping by later today, just a bit earlier now than I told her." Roy looked over to Tuesday and sighed. "No she wouldn't but I know if it was me in her place, she would be doing the same for me. Just like she was for her sister," he says as the bus stops and they can move to get off and head towards Boston Heights. Rubbing the back of his neck he then shoves his hands in his pockets. "If someone you cared for was killed, wouldn't you do everything you could to put a bullet in the bastards brain? I know you would," he said as he stopped in his tracks near the apartments and tilted his head to the side as he noticed the BMW sitting there. He hadn't seen that car before but Tuesday would know that car all too well. That was Marc Tinders BMW.

@Dragoknighte - Parked in front of the public records department Relic nods and pulls out his bag, reaching in and handing over a folder he had. It looked to be a newly acquired police file. "Here," he says handing it over. Inside is information on Peyton's case, beneath it is a photo Relic had gotten his hands on. On the photo it is dated six months prior to Peytons death and a location outside of Athens Greece. The image is of her, the professor, and Danica with another one of the relics but this one is made of a different material and is much larger. "Any help would be great. The dark net is a buzz with theories but we keep hitting walls. Who ever is controlling the flow of information knows what they are doing. Thankfully not everything can be found on the net these days," he says before getting out of the car. Waiting for Mali he locks up and heads inside. The place is pretty dead, no one ever comes in here. Just a single guard at the desk that looks up form his reading before going back to it and ignores them as Relic walks right passed him.

@Nallore - Roy shakes his head a bit. "No, I Was just hoping I could catch her here instead of having to go to the coroners office." Stepping inside he closed the door behind him. "No thanks and she could be but hell who ain't in this town?" he said as he sided and rubbed his temples. Looking down as his phone went off he checked his messages and his eyes perked up a bit. "Well she isn't in trouble right now but seems she found something," he says more to himself than to Riley. Shoving his phone back into his pocket without replying he looks back over to Riley. "

@Pundii - "Don't be saying such things! A man has to have his Big Mac! Speaking of which, need you to watch the door later! I need me some fries!" Freddy laughs as he returns the hand shake and lets Scott in. Closing the door things are quiet in the bar as Trisha is going over her papers. From the back, an all too familiar face comes from the office; Miss Zoie Crawford; dressed in her usual pin stripped business suit with heals that showed it was on for anything but business. Winking at Scott before she heads over to Trisha, the two exchange a few words quietly before Zoie nods and heads over to the bar. "Be likin' the usual darlin'," she says to Scott in her usual southern drawl that gave away that despite her dress she was anything but a west coaster.

@Scallop - Marc looks over towards Felix ad chuckles a bit. "Yeah, may be a bit unorthodox but there are several reasons you are here. One, nothing I have said couldn't be found with little work and records check that are available to the American Public, love or hate it. Other reasons have to do with who you are," Marc says as he pulls out his cell phone and pulls up something on the screen. "Felix Hausten, mystery author from Germany. So you are new to the area and from well out of town. Makes it less likely that I will have to put you into cuffs over this. Not to mention, it means you think out side of the box and might see something I don't. Like having my own personal Castle," he jokes before slipping his phone back into his vest pocket. Glancing at the man he crosses his arms over his chest. "So what say you? You tag along, stay out of the way, give a fresh prospective. Keep your mouth shut to the public until the investigation is over and once it is you are free to write to your hearts content having had a first hand account at such a tingling story. What more could a mystery writer ask for?"

@Morose Natasha smiles and nods. "Cool, let me know if anything pops," she says as she gets back to work, extracting fluid from the lungs and taking a whiff before her nose curled. Shaking her head she set down the sample for Cecily and went back to work, talking as she went. "See these lines on Miss Dunn's neck? They are from behind with a rope or band or something. It was quick, her neck snapped like the assailant wanted. Alicia though, this was with bare hands facing her. It took a long time, it was personal. Time of death puts them pretty close together but I can say that Alicia died at least an hour after her friend here and her death was much more brutal," she adds. (PM for Print and water sample results.)

"Athens, huh?" Mali remarked while flipping through Peyton's case file. "If I had to guess, these things would probably date back to the Classical period, if not earlier. Almost certainly from before the time period of my area of expertise. Athens wasn't exactly a happening place during the Middle Ages. But I think I know somebody who might be able to help. This sounds about the speed of my ex, Hana. I'll call her up later and see if she knows anything or can find something out. Any tips for sending images cross-country without it getting messed with?"

When Relic got out of his car, Mali debated whether to leave the file in the car. Carrying around police documents that didn't belong to you probably broke some law or at least was suspicious as hell, but ultimately she decided to just take it anyways in case they needed it. She just tried to keep it as covered up as possible, which the cast on her left hand was pretty good at. She spared only a glance at the bored guard reading a how-to book about sailing. Yeah that seemed about right. Briefly, Mali wondered if this build was just as dead in the days before the internet.

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"She honestly hasn't been here that much, that and being cooped up in the hospital for three days I saw her there. And who isn't in some sort of danger here, getting rear ended in the pileup last week wasn't all that fun." Riley said as she took the bottle of beer in her hand and started to take a drink from it and setting the bottle down next to the counter. She was slightly curious why Roy and Cecily have been working closely then Riley raised an eyebrow at the detective when he got a text from Cecily that she had found something apparently. "I'm going to assume that it's something related to one of the recent killings in town?"

Riley ran a hand through her hair and sighed slightly as she took another drink. "And i'm gonna assume also that it's something you probably wouldn't tell me." Riley said jokingly though she was worried for her roommate since what had happened to her the day after the block party and her being shot at. She then started to wonder when Ronnie would swing by, she knew that he was going to be coming by later in the day but she didn't know exactly when he said he would be over.

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Absently, Caesar opened the door to the microwave, and inspected the business card. He was still on the phone, but it looked very much like he was on hold. Whereas he was not the type who enjoyed listening to crappy elevator-style music, at the moment he was not about to scream about it. Bigger battles to fight, more important emotions clawing their way to the top of his psyche. He slipped the card into a pocket, just in time to continue speaking to whomever was on the other end of the conversation.

The dialogue was spoken completely in Spanish. The tone of his voice changed several times, from flat and impersonal to remorseful, even a tiny chuckle once or twice. One observing the conversation could surmise that he was speaking with multiple people. One who spoke the language would have that confirmed. Not only that, but people with whom he was very familiar. After a while, he bid a melancholy "Adios" and ended the call.

"Alright, Keystone. Mi Familia is set up to receive company back home. It'll be a stupid motherfucker that tries anything there. More guns than Texas, and my people are many. Pissed off, too. Alicia was loved. Before that, I have a stop in redneck country. I leave as soon as the bodies are released. Speaking of..."

The grieving El Jefe punched up a fresh text message, again to Cecily.



He looked to the massive Londoner. "Going to the morgue. Hold this place down. Interview people, sit in on a training session for the new guys. Be noticed. I'll be in touch later."

Without so much as waiting for a return to his statement, Caesar turned and walked out of the lounge. The next few minutes found him on his Harley trike, roaring out of the R&D complex.

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Keystone had finished his own calls long before Caesar did, and felt just a bit awkward standing there while he engaged in serious conversation, using a language with which he was very largely unfamiliar. It's not like it was standard learning back in grade school. At least not for him. His linguistical capabilities went significantly more east than Spanish, though in contemplating this fact, it might not be a bad idea to pick up a little of the language. He was in California, after all. It was a widely practiced secondary tongue here.

He did take Caesar's advice to heart, though. Get around the Complex more. Be seen. Sit in on a training session. Yes, that. Paperwork was taken care of, the place was under wraps for now. Good time to let his presence be more than that of a figurehead. A short bit of time after the venerable Mexican left for Cecily's place of business, Keystone trudged out, crossing MMS's section of the Complex and quickly locating the company gym. Class was in session, as it turned out.

This was not the martial training he had personally thrown himself into. It looked more like an intellectual discussion about theoretically punching and throwing people, led by a guy who obviously just got the position by default after Lorna's unfortunate demise. Sure, this one trainer looked like he could handle himself, and true to form, the trainees needed to get the background and basics down first. But it just didn't look remotely as fun as the torturous crap inflicted upon him, designed to break down and rebuild his body in ways that most of humanity would never have to endure. The experiences gave some trauma, yes, but made him a particularly dangerous man, even among dangerous men. It was time to pass the love on to others.

He burst through the door, almost screaming the phrase most loved by the Bobbies that had occasion to chase him down in his youth. "What's all this, then?"

Their reaction was priceless. This was going to be fun.

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Just moments after she had put the test results into A.F.I.S., she received yet another text from Caesar. Glancing at it, Cecily frowned slightly. She wasn't quite prepared to take a break from work to talk with him just yet. It was the very reason she told him that she'd be at the Heights that night, if he wanted to talk. And with Natasha recovering from chemo, she hardly wanted the angry Mexican to scare the woman to death. Though, the doctor did appear to be a braver woman than she could ever be.

While the computer searched for a hit on the fingerprints, Cecily set to work with the sample Natasha had given her. She prepared a micropipette, calibrating it with an analytical balance before use. Once done with that process, Cecily separated out the sample in portions amounting to less than twenty microliters, each. The more sparing she was with the samples, the more tests she could perform. She began with the basic tests first: Benedict's Solution, Lugol's Iodine, Biruet's Solution, and a simple phenol red indicator. These tests narrowed down the aspects of the unknown chemicals, and once she recorded the results, Cecily moved over to the spectrophotometer. In one cuvette, she placed a control sample -- deionized water -- and then set to work. By the time she had thoroughly completed all of the trials, the computer dinged softly. A.F.I.S. had found a match.

"Before I go and check that, here's what I found...The water contains various fuels and oils, as well as some halogens--fluoride, chlorine, and so forth," Cecily explained, powering off the spectrophotometer. She quickly jotted down the finished results for the water analysis and signed the paper, before heading over to the computer.

It was a three point match to an unknown individual. She frowned, clicking on the name, in order to bring up the relevant files--the file was scarce. There were matches to other crimes, but it was an unusual lack of information. "This isn't too helpful--but whoever did this, we're likely looking at a serial killer," Cecily said. "Got some information from the hit, but honestly, there's hardly anything here."

She strummed her fingers against the counter, quickly pulling and saving the few pieces of information she had collected. Thinking through the combination of chemicals she found, Cecily mimicked her favorite television detective. There had to be somewhere that would have all of those elements in combination. Focusing in on the fuel, Cecily continued to strum her fingers, her mind briefly flickering to Riley and her tour. It had been pushed back once again, requiring the plane tickets to be....

....Plane tickets?

Making a gigantic leap of deduction, Cecily smiled, a bit smugly. "It's some sort of aircraft storage. That's the crime scene we're looking for." Pulling out her phone, she sent an identical text to Roy, Caesar, and Detective Johnson.

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Tuesday was preparing some sort of retort, having abandoned her sister when they were in high school, and how she'd likely be able to do it again. That was all a lie, of course. She knew that she would do the same exact thing, but it was more a matter of saving face. However, all of that vanished when she saw that fucking car. Her blood turned to ice, and she glanced up at the apartments, knowing fairly well Marc had to be inside one of them.

"Marc bloody Tinder is here," Tuesday groaned, kicking at the ground slightly. "Why must bad things happen to mildly bad people?"

She looked up at the apartments once again, knowing that Riley would be in the classic building. Her producer, as far as Tuesday was aware, had put her under house arrest. It helped that Riley had a broken bone, it forced her to stay home and not get herself mixed up with anything. Biting her lip, Tuesday contemplated her options. She could walk into Riley's house and pretend, if she ran into Marc, that she hadn't seen his car.

Blinking her eyes several times, she couldn't help but feel trapped regardless. It seemed fate had decreed that Marc would run across her, and wherever Marc went, murders were sure to follow. It was the balance of the universe. "Come on, let's go." She tore her eyes away from the car and crossed over to the classic building, hoping that Marc wouldn't be looking out one of those windows and spot her flaming red hair.

The words were like music to the man;s ears. They were what he didn't know he needed, but right now he just let the feeling of success hit him like a bus. He diodn't now quite why he felt success. He felt like, he had control of the story now, well more control. COntrol to make sure it didn't get too anticlimactic or too predicatble. A perfect perch to shake things up. But still something wasn't clicking. Something was wrong.

He shrugged that thought off and observed his phone before smirking and nodding. He'd be in their pocket, but they'd also be in his strings. He wasn;t gonna be a goody two shoes for the FB fucking I. He had a high octane thriller to write. But for now, appearances had to be kept in check.

"Own personal Castle huh...I like the sound of that" He grinned, and glanced outside for a moment, back to Marc. "I'm sold...but you promise me you keep me up to date on this whole case, any slip ups and I'm out"