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"Potter reference, oi?" remarked Keystone, nearing the fairly official looking man at the end of the corridor. He couldn't quite tell what the guy was pointing his gun at, being as whatever it was lay around a corner, but putting Two and the Square Root of Four together, he figured that this was the cause of the disturbance. The large man brought his massive pistol to bear as he stepped near the Federal Agent, the question briefly going through his mind about his level of trustworthiness, given the situation with these powerfully positioned women and the extent of their reach. "Keystone, MSS." he stated quietly to the Agent, not taking his eyes (or his gun) from the woman down the hallway. But there was no time to go into particulars. There was a hostage situation, and he felt the need to do something stupid.

Even from a distance, the massive silhouette of a Desert Eagle is notable. The soft but solid triangular shape of the barrel easily marked the weapon as one designed for making a mess, not taking a prisoner. "People're tryin' to bloody sleep in 'ere, ya manky bitchfist!" he blurted out with his Cockney accent leading his verbal charge. "I'm new 'ere, mayhap you can tell what the Bacon-wrapped 'ell you're on about?" He really hoped Caesar would get there soon. This was a little out of his expertise, unless she wanted get into a fistfight with the man. At least with Cecily nearby, he could provide her the cover of his broad frame, in case something unexpected popped up. Like if this woman suddenly acquired laser vision, or remembered that she really had a gun all along.

Meanwhile...

Caesar easily located the pry marks on the security door and door to the stairwell beyond. He was really hoping for something less obvious. This felt like a trap, somehow. The again, he had lived this long amidst horrible surroundings and tons of carnage by thinking that exact thing. But if this was the lady that killed his daughter, and indeed was capable of doing such a thing to someone with her talents, then he could not afford to be any later to the party. No, Caesar was already on his way upstairs when his satellite phone vibrated, indicating that something was afoot a couple of floors above.

The venerable man drew his firearm and got a good blade at the ready. Hugging the wall, he quickly ascended the stairs, slowing to a quiet pace when he got withing a half flight of his intended door. From the noise on the other side, he surmised that he had found the right spot. That woman was on the other side of the door, but he wasn't certain how far away nor what the layout looked like.

Stealth was his friend. Usually, anyway. The practice of it kept him alive more times than he could count, but opening a blind door was still risky, even for an Veteran Mexican Ninja like himself. So, two options presented themselves: One, bust in there like the Kool-Aid Man. His sudden presence might distract the bad guys, giving the good guys their moment to move. Or, it could do the opposite of that, royally screwing people over. Two, he could crack the door as quietly as possible, counting on the tension inside to help cover his limited movement. It would give him a glimpse of the situation. Intel was everything. But he risked discovery; if he was in a bad tactical position, he might be revealed and that would be his ass. But it still might give the good guys a chance to move.

Then, he heard a loud voice, muted through the door. He couldn't quite tell what it was saying, but it was doing so in a stereotypical London lower-class accent. The man could draw attention. Caesar picked this moment to, as quietly as he could, crack the door open and have a look. Anything compromising, and he figured he could always go for Plan B: Shooting and Stabbing.

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Justice Asylum: - SWAT still hadn't arrived and there was no sound of sirens to even denote they were close. Outside people were pushed back even further but the local PD was not entering yet. Either they were afraid to or had orders not to. Either way, there was no additional help there at that moment. Well, except a large man with a gun who came up near Marc.

"Don't fire." Marc's voice was short and even as he spoke, last thing he needed was some new comer to the scene making things worse. It seemed though he already had as agitation was easily read on the woman's face when her eyes narrowed.

"Aww you think a big brut like you is gonna make my knees knock? Sorry to disappoint you, they couldn't make me tremble at Tutwiler, so you don't stand a chance. Now, drop the weapons or pretty girl here is gonna be foaming at the mouth like a latte," she said. Cynthia still squirming a bit and yelling out for help but it seemed the longer the little game went by the more scared she seemed and the less acting she seemed to be doing.

The woman didn't notice the door being cracked open behind her as she spoke and her words went out into the back stair well. "Tutwiler..." That word would ring a bell with the old Mexican. Kelley was an inmate there before she moved out to Seattle.

Zoies Farm: - Zoie cocked a brow at Mali's words, she hadn't expected that. Granted she also hadn't expected the woman to actually take her up on the suggestion. "Fair enough," she replied as she watched woman. Zoie couldn't promise the woman wouldn't die if she did this, she couldn't promise she would die if she didn't. She was glad she didn't ask her to lie and promise anything of the sort.

Zoie got up off the couch and motioned for Mali to follow her after saying a few words to her brother about Mali being right and needing to get wound down for the evening. The hour was still early for Zoie, normally being more of a night owl because of work and Juno. She doubted Relic would listen to her, knowing him he would be breaking out his computer and getting to work himself. On what she didn't have a clue. He might work on what they had spoken about or a thousand other things. Was up in the air with him.

Heading up the stairs Zoie showed Mali one of the spare bedrooms and the adjoining bathroom. "Hold up one sec," she said before walking out of the room and down the hallway. After a few minutes she came back with fresh towels and some clothing. "This should work. Cans gets ya better t'morrow but be rights comfortable enoughs to sleep in," she said. "Feels free to takes a shower, ain't no TV up here but there's books in me study downstairs if yas gets bored. Feels free to raids the kitchen if ya get hungries again. Makes yerself at home."

Justice Memorial Hospital: - Things at the hospital had gone from Code Black to Code Red, meaning it was still busy as hell but at least now it had calmed down enough to where they were just on the brink of chaos, not actually in the middle of it. It was dark outside now and the evening had fully arrived, along with a slight cooling in temperature. It was Sunday evening which normally meant the city got quieter than it normally was, as if the town was bracing itself for the week to come. Mondays were never easy, especially in Justice. Cars were coming and going, taxi's and the like as people were leaving, the parking lot shifting scenes as people clocked out for the day and the night crew clocked in. Several Ubers were outside, which was Riley's was anyone's guess.

In the OR, the operation had not even begun. Normally they would have fully prepped a patient before they were put under but due to the location of the damage they had to do things a little bit out of order. They couldn't effectively prep Felix with him still moving around since it was his eye they were trying to save. Natasha held out little hope that the eye could be saved but she knew the lead surgeon would try nonetheless. Even if they couldn't, it would at least give them better insight to how much damage was there and if the socket could be saved and prepped for a transplant at a later date or if the man would be walking around like a pirate for the rest of his life. Looking at the clock Natasha knew this was going to be an all nighter, she was not going to be bright eyed and bushy tailed come the flight out of Justice. She just hoped she could get some sleep on the plane.

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Riley sat in the lobby for a little bit longer until she got a notification that her Uber was here, she got up walking past a few doctors and nurses that were either clocking in or clocking out for the evening. When she came out Riley closed her eyes for a moment taking a deep breath and then opened them once more. Riley looked around seeing a lot of Uber drivers out in the parking lot, she started to grumble slightly to herself, there were so many that she didn't even know which one was hers. She started to wonder if she should just turn around and simply take the bus or taxi back to Boston Heights, Riley continued to search around the parking lot.

Riley looked up at the evening sky seeing that it had gotten a lot darker since she had left the Asylum, she turned back to look at the hospital. She knew that Felix was in very good hands with Dr. Brinne, and hopefully she'd get some form of update, Riley then turned her attention over to the Uber's biting her lower lip for a moment. She was probably going to make an idiot of herself, as Riley started making her way over to some of the driver's, occasionally looking down at the app.

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Cecily couldn't help but feel almost calmed by Keystone's Cockney rage. It cut through the tension like in a Marvel movie, where the seriousness was replaced with one character acting almost goofily. And while she was sure Keystone didn't mean to seem ridiculous, he also had said bacon-wrapped hell. It was the type of phrase that went on a t-shirt, alongside a picture of Rocket the Raccoon.

But as she glimpsed the increased irritation in Proserpine's face, as well as the shortness from the far smaller man's voice, she felt the gravity of the situation once more. The girl's cries for help brought her fully back into the more appropriate mentality, and once again, Cecily couldn't help but feel dismayed that there was a hostage. Otherwise, they could have arrested Proserpine already. Closure could have been achieved.

Tutwiler? She hadn't the faintest clue what it was. She couldn't help but imagine a Guantanamo Bay like complex, or perhaps even like Blackgate Prison in the DC comics. Or maybe it was some sort of special academy, where special forces were trained? Or perhaps a scene of a notorious fight? Either way, if they made it out of this intact, she was definitely going to do a google search or two.

Iris, however, let out a sigh of frustration, back in Cynthia's room. She couldn't hear any sirens and from what she could tell, SWAT wasn't even close to arriving at the asylum yet. The seconds seemed to drag on like hours and she felt like a sitting duck, just waiting for some horrible thing to happen, and doing nothing to prevent it. Tugging on her hair, she then glanced around Cynthia's room. Maybe there'd be something in there to help, at least--some sort of clue as to who the woman outside was. And while she felt it was a bit unethical, it was her best option. She started to look through Cynthia's things, hoping to stumble across something useful.

Mali looked around the room that she would be borrowing for the night. Considering the rest of the house, this was about what she expected to find. Definitely more spacious than her apartment bedroom, if somewhat less comfortable due to unfamiliarity. While she waited, Mali took off her socks and shoes. At the very least, it felt like her feet could breathe again.

"Thanks," she said as she accepted the towels and used clothes. Yeah they were someone else's and she wasn't used to having to deal with hand-me-downs (a perk of spending most your life as an only child with well-off parents), but she was grateful for a change of clothes nonetheless. She just hoped that the smell of another person wouldn't bother her once she was actually wearing them.

"So you don't talk much, do you?" Maybe she was prying into private matters, but given the level of involvement she had already achieved with Zoie & Relic and how much closer they'd probably have to act/become, she didn't think of it as being too much. If anything, it was more of an observation than an actual question.

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Zoies Farm: - "Sure thang," Zoie said as she leaned back against the door frame once Mali had taken the clothing. "I know it ain't be much but we can worries about style tomorrows," she said, smiling slightly. At Mali's declaration or more so question that she didn't speak much Zoie cocked a brow. That was a bit unexpected. Thinking on it though she really hadn't said much that evening, more so of delivering what information she felt was most needed and leaving the flavoring text to the wind.

"Guess nots, least not tonights. Usually yous can'ts shuts me up but todays... well been a day," she said with a bit of a sigh. "Brother usually be the quiet one and mes the talkative one," she said pushing off the door frame and walking back fully into the room. Walking over to the bed she sat down on the edge and looked over towards Mali. "You wantin' me to talks more? Or yous gots somethang on yer mind you wants to talk about? I be all ears or mouth, either ways. Just be figurin' you wants to be getting cleaned up and rested afters everythang. Don't knows what yous and Daniel's been up to but knowin' him he ain't been a quiet day."

Justice Memorial Hospital: - None of the Ubers that Riley checked seemed to be the one she was looking for. It wasn't until she got to the end of the Uber line that she made any progress. A hand waved from behind the wheel of a rather beat up Honda Accord. It didn't look like the type of vehicle one wanted to travel in. That was until the face of the driver came into light as a car passed it going the opposite direction. It was Det. Roy Gregory, looking a little worse for wear and rather adamant about Riley hurrying up over to him.

"Riley, get in," he called out from the rolled down window. It was about that time another driver who had a nice Toyota Avalon with an Uber sticker on his front windshield started to get out of his car.

"Miss? You called for an Uber?" he asked but Roy hit the gas on his own car and blocked the man. "Hey, watch it! I'm walkin' here!" the man yelled, his accent suddenly changing.

"Girl get in!" Roy yelled as he unlocked the back door on the driver side and flung the door open for her. Waiting for her to get in before he did anything else but it seemed the man Roy had cut off was not happy and that he was now reaching behind him, trying to get at his gun. He was effectively pinned against his car for now but how long that would last was anyone's guess.

Footsteps. That's all he could hear as he ran through the emptiness of his sub consciousness. It'd been a long time since he'd last been in a drug induced state of sleep. He hoped this would be the last, not a habit he was fully comfortable with making a regular occurrence. He was in pain. But it was numbed by the drugs. The overwhelming feeling of failure and disappointment hung over him. Regret. That invaded his mind. Regret and shame. How he had missed them.

he could vaguely see figures appearing before him. Those of men in balaclavas and ski-jackets. Men he had hired. Men he had put in the face of danger through his own stupidity. men who contributed to his book. That's what he did nowadays though, thats what it seemed. Death brought inspiration. What a fun yet morbid cycle he found himself in. His head was spinning slowly. The drugs keeping him caged in this dream state. He was being healed. Repaired. He begged for repair. To be able to see his future with both eyes. Maybe salvation was still in his grasp. Maybe. But did he want it? He hit his knees. Did he want it?

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Riley was starting to get annoyed as she passed by each Uber Driver, the ones that she had been approaching were the one that she had called she was about to give up by the time Riley had gotten to the end of the Uber line. Then she saw the lemon looking Honda Accord, seeing the driver waving over towards her Riley slightly shrugged it off, as long as she had gotten back to Boston Heights the better she would be off. When Riley got closer as a car drove past the Accord, seeing that it was Detective Gregory from earlier she was slightly confused she didn't think he would actually be an Uber driver. He rolled down the window hearing him telling her to get in, Riley was about to approach him and get in when another car drove up.

Riley turned around to face the Toyota Avalon, she saw the Uber sticker on the front windshield as the man got out of the car asking if she ordered an Uber. "Yeah I did but, I got another ride." Riley cut herself off when Roy gunned his car forward cutting off the driver and her, then yelling for her to get in. Riley watched the Uber driver reaching for something behind him, as Roy opened the back door of his car for her not really thinking Riley decided to just jump into Roy's car and quickly closing the door. Riley still wasn't sure why he was actually here, as she ducked down in the back of Roy's car. "Why the hell are you here?" Riley asked, she tried to make herself as small as possible, she was terrified that the other driver would start taking shots at Roy's car.

"Ah, perhaps I should have been more specific. You and your brother don't really talk much, do you? Like I saw you two bicker earlier, but I got the feeling that neither of you say anything important until you absolutely have to." Mali didn't mind the scarcity of clothes Zoie had available. It would be presumptuous to expect every place and every person to have a full wardrobe on hand that could fit any body-type, especially one as abnormal as her's.

"Which I guess I understand given all the shit that you seem to get into, but I dunno. Seems like it might be more trouble than it's worth. Like all that stuff you said earlier, if you could tell that to a complete stranger like me, maybe it shouldn't have come as a total surprise to your own brother." Mali leaned against the wall and thought about how she should go about saying what she was going to say next. As it stood, she had already stepped ahead of her bounds, and it was really tempting to simply go all in, but maintaining some tact came off as a far wiser move. In the end she decided to save it for another day.

"Then again, I'm not much better in that respect. I barely tell my family anything when I talk to them these days. Also, since you've laid out some of your cards on the table, let me lay out a couple of mine. Fair's fair after all. I have more than just your brother and myself as resources for looking into Juno. I'll try and establish some contact info later, so if I croak, they won't be totally in the dark. Got a number or email you'd be willing to hand over for that purpose?"

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Oh, good. So Keystone's presence was noted by the syringe wielding psychopath down the hallway. Maybe noted a little too well. The extra piece of aggravation wasn't really the large man's intent, but if it kept the attention on him, all the better. Unfortunately, this woman appeared to have no regard for the girl in her grasp, as if any hostage taker might. Further, the American Federal Agent gave him a stern suggestion that it would be prudent to not fire upon the rampaging she-hulk. For the sake of the girl or because they needed answers from her; whatever the reason, he did in fact agree. The barest nanosecond of thought had him focused on the potential to end the situation - Keystone carried a Desert Eagle .50, a nasty piece of hardware. If he fired once, and that bullet caught any part of her skull, it would paint the wall behind her with half of her head long before her nerves would allow for the plunger of that syringe to depress.

That was a huge IF. Keystone was a competent shot, rated by Caesar's company. Competency did not make him one for trick shots, nor very comfortable shooting around hostages. So yeah, the Agent was right. It was not his place to make that decision. He was about to soften his dialogue and lower his weapon when he saw the door crack behind them, on the far side of the hall. He detected the barest hint of black leather and long, dark hair. Good.

New plan! He cleared his throat and forced a slightly more jolly tone to his voice. "Tutwiler, ey? I remember 'avin' me a few pints o' Tutwiler back in Jolly Old, y'see, with a plate o' fresh chips. Not great lager, but it ain't quite scary, lady." He was playing up his humble, Londoner origins, taking the role of the big, stupid muscle. People wanted to believe that about him a lot of the time, and so he obliged if he felt it was to his advantage.

On the other end of the hallway and closer to the action, Caesar got a glimpse of what was going down. Momentary understanding of his employee's tactic came to him: He was acting the part of the Braying Jackass to buy time and keep Proserpine focused forward, so that someone like him could have a moment to act. But therein lay the problem. A needle in a girl's neck, hand on the plunger. Limited his options. If he had one of his machetes on him, it could be a simple matter of hacking the woman's elbow joint. Or a good slash across her inner forearm would disable that hand, surgery being a later option. Not that he cared if she regained the use of her hand, but he wanted answers. With the Feds on scene and local (read: corrupt) police supposedly coming this way, he wanted her to be able to answer some questions. Big questions, asked very painfully.

And if he was even a little off mark, what would happen to the girl? Used as a human shield, maybe? Or just killed outright for the purposes of lightening her load? Caesar didn't want any more loss of life. Wait, scratch that. Caesar did want a loss of life. Hell, he was making a list like a murderous Santa Claus, ready to drop his blade over and over and over until it, he, and everything in the surrounding twenty feet was soaked in warm, red blood. But as far as he could tell, this kid was an innocent. It pained him to do so, but he was going to have to play it straight. Damn it.

Caesar tucked his knife into a concealed, underhand grip along his forearm and brought his .45 to the ready. He quietly nudged the door the rest of the way open with his foot and stepped through, then to the side. If shots were fired, he very much did not want to be caught in friendly bullet trajectory. As the door swung to a close, he stated in a calm, direct voice.

"Your friends aren't coming." he started, gun leveled at the dangerous woman. "It was a setup, puta. You've been sold out. And you know what I'm willing to do. One professional to another: Put it down."

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Justice Asylum: - The woman just cackled a bit, pulling Cynthia closer to her and pushing the needle a little bit deeper as she turned slightly. One man behind her, others in front of her. The situation didn't look good but that didn't seem to phase the woman. Something clicked in her mind and was either pulling her out of the insanity or driving her further into it. It was hard to tell. Yet she stepped, slowly and put her back against the window, using Cynthia as a meat shield and keeping her vitals covered by her daughter.

"Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez, age 65, born May 15th in Monterrey, Mexico. Ey' Chihuahua. Former Federale, owner of Machete Security Solutions. Better wise know in the industry as El Jefe. Married to Maria Santiago at one point but your divorced now. She just couldn't take the life style. You enjoy bird watching, tequila, and fuzzy bunny slippers. Before the divorce Maria gave birth to a little girl. One Alicia Maria Juanita Sophia Gonzalez, aka Taco Belle. You raised her to be everything you were because she wouldn't have it any other way."

The woman spoke clearly but the look in her eyes was anything but that of clarity. "Being a father, there is one thing I know you won't do. Cause the death of someone's daughter," she said flatly as her eyes darted between Caesar, Keystone, and Marc. "Really going to let this little girl pay the ultimate price? Just to kill someone? Oh you want me dead, and sure I should die. One day. But not today and not for killing Alicia." Her voice was steady and even. Was she really trying to push his buttons or was there more to it. There was a flash in her eyes before she spoke again and the first hint of emotion came through. "I didn't kill your M'hija and if you kill me, you'll never find out who did."

Sounds of sirens started to come in from the distance, it seemed that the SWAT team was finally getting closer. "Oh, that would be my ride. Lovely talking to you all," she said as a smirk crawled across her features. Without warning the window behind her blew out. "Toodles!" she cackled as the debris flew through the room and she jumped back, out the third story window. Her legs wrapping around Cynthia, taking her with the maniac. Was she jumping to her death? And taking her daughter with her. No. They landed on the fire escape just a few feet down. The woman moved quickly, fastening a belay onto her waist and rolling off the rusted steel stairs, a rope repelling her and her daughter down further towards street level in the alleyway.

"Son of a bitch!" Marc yelled as he ducked for a second to avoid the shrapnel that blew half way down the hall. Glass, wire, metal, scattering everywhere. "Don't shoot!" he yelled as he sprinted towards the window. He didn't want the woman to get away but like hell if he was losing Cynthia to a fire fight.

Zoies Farm: - "Oh that," Zoie said and nodded a bit. "Well me telling you, even if you are a stranger is because of Daniel. If he trusts you, then I do. Granted he and I aren't close," she said losing a bit of her accent and putting on a more formal tone and syntax to her talking than she had had earlier. Sounded more like she was on the job now than letting herself just be her.

"We haven't been in a long time..." Zoie said thinking back to the day that she had all but lost every last ounce of respect her brother had once held for her. They had been close but her demons had caught up with her and she had to pay the price. Zoie, truth be told, had been a little shit growing up. Especially to her twin sister. So much in fact it lead to an incident and Thana had lost any chance of ever having children. It was all Zoie's fault, though she never admitted it until she was much older and only to Daniel. That day he pushed her away and started to try to track Thana down. She had been the outcast of the family for so long and once Daniel learned the truth he was determined to try to reconnect with her. Thana has been anything but receptive to it.

Pushing the memories to the back of her mind and sighed a bit looking at Mali. "I have sins to pay for, this is my way of making amends," she said in a sorrowful voice before standing up and clearing her throat. "Um yeah, I'll get you one of my cover cards in the morning that has a secure number and email on it."

Justice Memorial Hospital: - Roy looked over to Riley as she got into the car and as soon as the door was closed he hit the accelerator peddle and sped out of there. The man managed to fire of several shots, hitting the car but not doing any serious damage. Thankfully no one was hurt. "Long story. Heard over the scanner about the Asylum, some of the images were uploaded to the police database. Saw you getting into an ambulance, figured I would try here first to find you," Roy explained quickly as he weaved in and out of traffic, racing away from the hospital as quickly as he could and praying to whatever god that was listening that the so called Uber Driver was not following them. "Glad I did... That man is known as Mr. March. He was at your apartment complex the night Danica was killed. He was retired but after White killed himself, I dunno..." he said as he continued to speed off. "Are you alright?"

Back in the hospital things were going slow when it came to Felix's surgery. Granted that was to be expected, they were only an hour into what looked to be an eight hour operation. Natasha watched carefully and assisted where need be but she had figured out within the first hour during prep that the chances of saving the eye were low. Prepping Felix was nearly complete, they had cleaned the area, removed the bandage, and shaved part of his hair to keep it back and the area sterile. The last thing he needed was an infection so close to the brain cavity.

There was clearly a lot of backstory here that Mali didn't know about, and frankly she didn't care to learn any of it she didn't need to. Yeah, it was probably tragic and sorrowful, but it was also not her business and taking on somebody else's melodrama was not on her list of things to do. Besides, it was likely to come up again at some point or another. Seemed to be a sticking point between the siblings. As it was, Mali just rested her broken hand against her hip and cocked a brow.

"If you say so. Just keep in mind that nobody appreciates having to pick up a body bag. Assuming a body's ever found." In hindsight those last two sentences were way more morbid than appropriate. Especially the last one. They had sounded less crass in her head.

"Well I'm going to wash up now. No need to stick around, unless you want to join in." In hindsight, that joke could have come off far more sleazily than Mali had intended. All things considered, it was probably a good thing that she was ending the conversation here, lest more potential faux pas spring from her lips unbidden.

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Iris' search in Cynthia's room appeared to amount to rather little. And by rather little, it would be more correct to state nothing at all. Sighing, the young doctor sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands, feeling powerless and useless once more. She could not leave the room without ignoring the agent's instructions. She had alerted the asylum to the hostage situation, yet as far as she could tell, it hadn't helped matters at all.

All Iris did know was that an orderly was dead and her patient had a good chance of being next. She knew rather little about hostage situations herself, but a gut feeling told her this wouldn't end well. Huffing a bit, she mumbled under her breath, "J'ai l'utilité d'un chou." She only rose her head slowly as she heard the sound of the sirens approaching, hoping that it wasn't too late for Cynthia.

Cecily, meanwhile, didn't know Keystone enough just yet to tell if he was being serious. From the way Proserpine spoke about Tutwiler, it didn't sound like an alcoholic beverage to her. His jolly tone, combined with his huge stature, only further confused the young coroner. And of course, it wasn't like Cecily had an extensive knowledge of alcohol to begin with. As far as she knew, Tutwiler could have actually been an alcoholic drink.

But reconsidering it, Cecily instead came to the conclusion that Keystone was perhaps trying to aggravate Proserpine. It certainly was the more logical idea, at any rate...though, she wasn't too sure what irritating the woman would accomplish. Her thoughts were dismissed quickly, however, as she jumped a bit, seeing Caesar appear behind Proserpine. She felt like she had blinked and in that moment, the heavily scarred Mexican had appeared, gun in hand.

And while Cecily was quite certain that Caesar even glaring at her would be enough to get her to sign over pretty much everything she owned, Caesar's threats appeared to do nothing to Proserpine. Hell, the woman laughed, as if she was Harley Quinn or the Joker. The news that Proserpine claimed to not have killed Alicia was troubling, at the very least...Though Cecily wasn't certain if she could take Proserpine's word at face value. She didn't see the logic in trusting someone's word when it came to murder and destruction--science would always have the answers, after all.

"Damnit," Cecily cursed under her breath, seeing Proserpine escape with her daughter. She yelped instinctively as glass scattered everywhere down the hallway, ducking slightly with her head down, almost resembling a turtle hiding in its shell.

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Once Roy sped up the car Riley quickly strapped herself in breathing heavily she continued to try and make herself as small as possible, letting out a yelp when she heard the gunshots going off. Slowly turning her head looking back at the hospital as it got smaller and smaller as Roy drove away weaving through traffic. Riley slowly turned her attention back towards Roy letting out a slight sigh of relief she was glad she didn't get into that Uber driver's car, now named Mr. March. "Well i'm certainly not new to having a target on my back." She continued to hold onto the back seat as tightly as she could making sure that the seatbelt was as tight as it could be. "Thanks for the pickup by the way." Riley said, she listened to Roy as he mentioned more of the guy and that he was at Boston Heights the night that Danica was murdered.

"So then he basically knows where I live if we go back there, and what do you know of him exactly if you know him by name?" Riley asked, she wasn't sure if it was safe to go back home now or not and she still had those guns stashed inside her closet back there. Then she started to worry about Cecily and Marc, if either of them did get back to Boston Heights and he was there she wasn't sure if it would turn out well at all or not. "Have you spoken to Cecily at all?" Riley asked, knowing that the two of them most likely worked in someway together or not. "Could you like slow down to if we aren't being followed? I really don't want to plan on getting into another accident like in a week." Riley asked.

She would occasionally look back behind her just to make sure that they weren't being tailed either, Riley also needed to get in contact with Marc and Cecily to know where they are and where she will be at as well. "We are going back to my place right?"

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Zoies Farm: Zoie's brow rose slightly at Mali's words. "Yeah, well let's us justs sees if we can't keep the body bags down to a minimal," she quipped. She wasn't sure what Mali was going for with those two sentences but she was heading out in this with the plan that people were going to die, just that it could happen. She was a Southern Girl, it didn't mean she was dumb. She knew good and well that things could turn south especially in Justice. Zoie just would rather die trying to help than running. Years ago she would have thrown her own sister under a bus to stay out of trouble, in fact... Shaking her head she pushed the thought out of her head. That was not something she wanted to think about but she knew she was damned to hell for what she did. "Thana...I'm sorry..." was all she would give herself right then in her mind.

At Mali's next words Zoie giggled, actually giggled. "You knows what, let's gets to know each others better. If we's takes a tumble I'd rather it mean somethang than treats ya like a client," she said before turning on her heels and strolling out of the room. Pulling the door shut s she went so Mali could have some privacy without having to worry about anyone walking by. Heading back down stairs she got to work on putting away dinner. There was a decent amount left, at least enough for a cold lunch tomorrow. That was if they were even at the house then. They had work to do the next day.

Roys Uber Mobile: - "Right, yeah," Roy said as he slowed the car down and let out a long breath. "Sorry, damned paranoid right now," he said before glancing into the review mirror. "Can you come up here please," he said moving his bag off the front seat and tossing it in the back next to Riley. "Grab that roll of bandages while your at it in my bag."

"And no, we aren't. Need to get to a safe house for now. I'm a little light headed," he said as his lips thinned. If Riley got in the front seat she would see that under his over shirt his white t-shirt was soaked in blood on the right side. Lifting the shirt she would see where all the blood had come from, a knife wound across his abs and around his side. Seemed things had been rather bad for Roy since the last time Riley saw him.

""It isn't deep but damn it is bleeding a lot. Can't pull over to wrap it up, so come on Nurse Ratchet, help your driver out so we don't get in a wreck from me passing out."

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Before the exploding window/masterfully staged improvised exit, the crazy lady had a lot to say about Caesar. She had omitted from her little biographical rambling, though. The lack of these major details was as telling as the fact that she knew as much as she did. While not just "public record" stuff, she definitely seemed to have gotten the redacted version of his file. This was a thought he would have in coming moments. Right then, Caesar took in a brain full of the concept that his attempt to talk the situation down using any of his negotiation or intimidation skills. No, this bitch would have to eat cold, emotionless steel.

But she did get one thing wrong with utter certainty. Caesar was not a father. He had fathered, raising a baby girl into an intelligent, powerful woman, but the moment that the light of her vitality was snuffed, so was his claim to be someone's daddy in this lifetime. With that gone, Caesar wasn't sure what he was capable of doing anymore. His wife (well, ex-wife) had often told him that having Alicia made him more human, less of this creature shrouded in blood and darkness. But the crazy, window-jumping bitch was correct, she couldn't keep up with the lifestyle. Even the watered down, abridged one he showed her; not for very long. The truth was that his role of "hero to the common people" aside, he was a borderline sociopath that clung to a few, faint glimmers of morality. Grief had made him very dark before. It would again. Just a matter of time - probably after they interred Alicia. It would make for a profoundly interesting week.

But first, Caesar could not just let the woman run away without protest. He too sprinted for the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the retreating duo. Hopefully, he could find an equally speedy route down. Possibly using her own line, though if it was reactive and she thought to bring long a catalyst stick, it would be a very bumpy landing. But before he attempted anything, he shot a look to Keystone, who was still covering Cecily. "Orders still stand. You know what to do, Stone."

Keystone looked to Cecily, then back to Caesar. This was a touch of madness, what it looked like he was about to do. Give him a good, solid opponent to beat down and he was happy, but jumping out of windows? Hell, everyone's got to have a hobby. Though somewhere in the back of his mind, he was wondering if this was a diversion for something. He was thinking like a Security Agent. Arrive on scene, secure ground, protect your charge. The brutish man had standing orders, and he was the only one around that El Jefe trusted, despite his glaring lack of administrative experience.

"Got this. Do what you gotta, Boss." he said quickly to a man taking short nanoseconds figuring the best way to give chase to a psychotic chick who jumped out of a window carrying a child. Then he remembered a minor myth attributed to the man from just a few years prior. It was a particularly gruesome Alternate Method of Descent. Let it never be said that the man was a slouch at improvisation. He just hoped that a similar situation was not shaping up here. The way Caesar was looking at that Federal Agent, it was possible that's what he had in mind for a moment.

Wait, did Zoie answer that question seriously? And was that a serious consideration for actually taking up the offer? What a strange woman, that one. But perhaps Mali was overthinking this. After all, thinking back over the day, her thoughts did seem to revolve around sex more than they normally would.It had been a long-ass time since she'd gotten laid. Or maybe the stress of constantly worrying about a Shadow Cabal maybe wanting you dead was affecting her thoughts more than she would be willing to admit. Whatever the case, the shower would do her good, clear out all the confusing thoughts and just have a chance to chill.

The best part of any shower was the moment when one could peel off their dirty clothes and feel like an insect that had just completed metamorphosis, reborn and squishier than one would think. This feeling, followed closely by the moment one stepped into the shower and upon the first contact of water on flesh realized that the temperature was accidentally set to match the surface of the sun. After a scramble to set the water heat to a point tolerable to organic life, Mali found herself feeling more frazzled than she had been before stepping into the bathroom.

It took a minute or twenty, but Mali managed to approach something resembling a peaceful state of mind, her body was clear of dried salt and dirt, and her cast only got a tiny bit wet. All in all a productive time. The change of clothes weren't meant for her at all, but other than smelling weird, they suited her purpose fine. All dressed down, Mali made her way back into the common area of the house. Maybe she could still get a thing or two done before turning in for the night.

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Riley slowly closed her eyes letting out a soft sigh feeling the car starting to slow down somewhat, she opened her eyes again looking over at Roy as he looked at her through the review mirror asking her to take up the front seat. "Yeah, sure." Riley said softly as Roy tossed a bag into the back seat, raising an eyebrow when he said to grab the roll of bandages from the bag which she did. Riley took off the seatbelt and slowly got up, awkwardly moving into the front seat letting out a slight sigh as Riley turned her attention towards Roy. Then she looked down seeing the blood staining his shirt, looking shocked and then met Roy's gaze once more. "You look like shit man, what the hell happened?" Riley asked.

Mentioning going to the safehouse would probably be a good idea at least for now as she started to unroll the bandages she slowly started to lift up Roy's shirt some to get a better look at the wound. This was something Chloe would probably be good at, she bit her lower lip for a moment as Riley started to wrap around the bandages over Roy's wound. "I should drive, if you are getting lightheaded. If you start passing out on me pull over." Riley said as she tried her best to put on the bandages as tightly as she can. She would occasionally look back through the back window the car, Riley was getting paranoid herself from nearly escaping the other Uber Driver that tried to kill her.

Taking a few more seconds Riley finished using the whole roll of bandages and did her best to make sure that it was as tight as it could be, biting her lower lip for a moment then letting Roy's bloodied shirt roll back down. "I need to call Cecily and Marc let them know what happened and where i'll be. Should we take you to the hospital or something?"

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Iris tried to keep herself still and calm, sitting on Cynthia's bed, but she wasn't able to stay still. It took everything she had in her not to run out of that door and chase down Cynthia and her mother, regardless of what the agent told her. And not only was Iris impulsive by nature, but she had a deep fear of letting others down. This was a day, she felt, that would haunt her for the rest of her career in psychiatry. People had died and a patient was kidnapped.

She wanted to trust that all of the pieces would fall into place. She wanted to have faith. But the well of positivity seemed to be running dryer and dryer with each second that passed. Tugging on her hair, Iris walked over to the door. The agent had told her to stay inside the room, no? He didn't say anything about sticking her head out to have a peak. Quietly, Iris opened the door a crack and tried to get a glimpse to see what was going on. Perhaps, somehow, she'd figure out something she could do to help--something other than sitting in her kidnapped, likely soon to be murdered, patient's room and pulling her hair out.

Meanwhile, Cecily slowly went out of her slightly crouched position, reminding herself that Keystone was covering her, and easily three (if not more) Cecily's could fit behind the man. Caesar and Keystone exchanged a short conversation, as Cecily stared at the window, trying to imagine what Caesar's next move was. But instead, all her mind would show her were the possible points to take evidence, as well as a rough model for calculating Proserpine's impact velocity. She couldn't think in terms of combat and security--at least, not yet.

She couldn't help but feel like a broomstick would've been bloody useful about then. If magic was real, they could've jumped on a broom, cast Stupefy at Proserpine, and then arrested the woman, once and for all. But even that, from what Proserpine said, wouldn't bring Alicia's killer to justice. It would only bring Danica and Wallace's. That was the way justice worked, after all--every victory for the 'good guys' was just two steps forward and one step backwards.

But then Cecily's eyes widened slightly, thinking of something that she could do. If she was lucky, she might be able to pull a fingerprint of Proserpine's somewhere along the facility. Perhaps on a door handle, maybe on a railing somewhere. There was a chance, she felt, that a print was somewhere in the asylum. And if she had a print, she could prove--with evidence, rather than the words of a murderer--whether or not Proserpine was responsible for Alicia's death.

It was a long shot, however. Fingerprinting was difficult enough with a good surface and a clear print. And even if she could lift any prints, there were dozens of people in the asylum, at least, that could have left a print on the same object. Or perhaps Proserpine would have left a hair behind--and if they were lucky enough, the hair would still have the stem on it, allowing the mitochondrial DNA to be analyzed as well.

And then, realizing how incredibly daft she had been when a fresh clue had already presented itself, Cecily pulled out her phone and did a simple google search for Tutwiler.

If he was able to be more aware of what was happening with his body in the world of the awake, Felix would be objecting and in a state of argument at what was going on with his hair. Although, in his current state he wouldn't have even argued if he was aware. At this point, it felt like he no longer had control of the dice, he couldn't even roll. Hell, he had no choices, things happened to him, for a reason? Who knew, he wasn't so condescending and pretentious to perceive such accidents and mishaps as some sign of god that he was meant for something else.

To him what this all stood for was that he wasn't dead yet, which meant there was something he had to do, then his death would be barrelling around the corner, a theme many in this god forsaken city seemed to have awaiting them. In this dream like forced unconscious state, Felix could feel regret yet gratitude. He regretted leaving Berlin, the chaos and misery he'd caused here were all because he had left his comfortable home of Berlin. Because he wanted this. He wanted the risk and adventure of solving another case, he wanted more material for his novels.

That's why he was grateful. he was grateful for this hands on experience, of being forced to be fully submerged into the scum and depths of this hive of mystery and underhanded dealings. The city's personal initiation ritual, to show him what he was getting into. yet something at the back of his mind knew, that the city had already changed him. Not just the survival rate of his eye, but more his drive. His drive to solve this mystery was becoming more and more strong. He had to get deeper. He had to. he couldn't give up now that he himself was a target.It would just make the novel more immersive and a rollercoaster for all readers. Hell, it would zoom off shelves. he could raise money for this affected by this huge calamity parade. He wasn't done fighting yet.