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Riley looked towards Roy for a moment, he seemed to be pretty interested now that she killed a serial killer that was her former classmate something she actually hadn't spoken to much about it since leaving Grimm. "My family is also a secret group of assassins ready to take over the world." Riley said with a light laugh, as she grabbed one last burrito for the road she was pretty hungry she started to follow Roy out to his car and climbed into the passenger seat. She started to strap herself into the car seat as she started to go back and thinking more on her past.

"Well I guess I should start with Marc, Chloe myself and Cynthia the girl we came to visit at the asylum last night we knew each other growing up." Riley said as she leaned back in the car seat as she turned to look over at Roy, her firs thought then went to the prom. "The first killing actually happened during my high school prom. We had this bully named Simone, and I mean she was a bitch nearly got expelled because of her getting into a fight with her."

She started to open the burrito and started eating it, chewing on it a bit before swallowing. "Anyway I was doing the music back then, after that when we were going to announce the prom king and queen. I heard my classmate Ada scream, we all looked up and saw Simone's body hanging in some netting high above the gym room."

If it was anybody else doing what Relic was doing right now, Mali would have some words to say. Something like "Cut that shit out before you get caught." Or, "don't lie to me. You aren't hacking the CIA." Or even "oh yeah, of course you are." But given that it was Relic not only did she believe him when he said he was hacking the CIA's database or whatever, but she was also fully confident that there wouldn't be any negative repercussions as a consequence. That confidence seemed to be shared by everyone else at the table, the two "guardian" figures exhibiting exasperation before anything else.

"So why are you doing this?" Relic seemed to have a habit of suddenly busting out his computer to work on something without informing anybody of his line of thought for doing anything. There was really no point in engaging the bickering over whose fault anything was. it was clearly Relic's idea, if anyone were to blame, it was him. And the chances of getting him to stop where pretty close to zero as Mali figured it, so she may as well try getting some more info while he was doing whatever computer sorcery he was at that moment.

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The ice made small tinkling sounds as it melted, settling ever so slightly into the crystal tumbler glass. It was a clear, quiet sound, complementing the even breathing of the man seated next to it. Caesar was asleep, or very near to it, having surmised that this plane flying several thousand feet in the air was the closest thing to safety that he had experienced in some time. As he drifted away into lightly guarded rest, his landscape began to change.

---

The light of the dying sun held fast to Caesar, as if he refused to submit to the coming evening and the cold night was too afraid to deny the man the last rays of illumination. The heavens themselves wrapped their threads around the central, dominant strand of Caesar, completing the weave of the tapestry of his life flowing both unbroken and strong; it flapped in the breeze defiantly, standing against wave after wave of those who would bring him low.

Caesar was the very vision of a mythic demi-god. More than a man, but just short of an entity that demanded worship. He stood upon the top of a polished and shining Aztec pyramid, replete with radiant badassery in his fuzzy bunny slippers and smileyface boxer shorts, his hair and terrycloth bathrobe blowing freely in the same wind that brought the smoke of a thousand flaming corpses behind him; the remains of those who had challenged him and were not up to the task. More and more came, swarming, clawing at him with their yellowed fingernails and dead, milky eyes. He was in a lull now, but he saw more coming from below. They came bounding and crawling up the steps, climbing and scratching and gibbering for his blood. The light of the setting sun bathed him with the very last of its luminescence, reluctant to leave the man but powerless against the turning of the firmament.

But the sun was not his only ally.

Lightning rolled and flashed across an otherwise stormless sky, signaling the coming of great, tumultuous clouds in which hung the silhouette of a great, godly avian, ringed by thunderbolts that provided the elder Mexican precious ambient light with which he may continue his work. If Caesar was impressed, he did not show it, merely setting a firmness to his jaw and hefting a pair of massive laborer's blades: His company's namesake machetes, items of a sort that had been lifelong companions. They were almost upon him now. It was time to get to business.

The first of them foolishly tried to take him openly from the front, snarling and snapping. His blades flashed in the electric dim, lopping off the hands of the first that attempted to grab at him. He sidestepped and spun around, intercepting the claws of another while taking the apart his first attacker at the knees. He rose, slashing in front of him to dispatch the enemy at his fore, and turned, rotating his blades in a sweeping figure eight. Their blood was real enough, coloring the stone and stairs with red-black streaks like macabre graffiti or the workings of a deranged abstract painter.

Several more backed him to the very top of the pyramid, but it cost them dearly in limbs and blood. He was like a machine, hacking and stabbing, kicking and punching. He slipped his way between and amongst the mob of no-quite-men, dealing true death with both hands. A head rolled back down the pyramid, its former owner slumping to its knees before Caesar; in death paying the homage it should have in life. It was quickly followed by another as the Familia Gonzalez Warrior split its skull twain; a horizontal strike entering around the temple, crossing through both milky eyes and separating the top if its head from the rest of it. Impossibly, the thing still stood, trying madly to blink its half-eyes and stay on its feet. A single, spattered, fuzzy white bunny rose from the dust and gore of the stone beneath him and crashed into the torso of the gruesome, partially capitated thing in a vicious front kick.

Caesar used the momentum to bend backwards almost impossibly, blades reaching out and striking two more to his rear. One got it in its belly, the other its crotch. He twisted his body around to plant another bunny into the knee of the first, bringing to to the stone floor where it experienced a half-second of continued existence before the tip of the old man's blade finished him from above. The forcibly circumcised creature grabbed after its own wounds, patiently waiting to taste death at the hands of Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez. Its writhing patience was well rewarded as it was chopped to ribbons.

He was not done yet. He would never be done. Caesar was the flesh representation of gods older than eons; concepts of Death and Fire and Rage, fitfully coexisting with Justice and Revenge. A beast in the shape of a Man, motivated by love and honor, dragging fear beyond that of mere mortality along with him against its will, kicking and screaming, begging to be released from the shadow of this horrifying force of nature that acted solely in the best interests of that which was good and wholesome. A living contradiction, a harbinger of mutilation.

The blood stained Caesar lifted his blades to the sky as the first rain fell and lightning struck the stone around him. He let out a wordless bellow; a primal scream in proud Latino bass. The sudden and intense increase of illumination allowed him clearer view of the land around him. It was crawling with hordes of adversarial creatures at all sides. This was likely his last battle, but he would fight it in such a way as to be deified after his passing. He would make them suffer for every drop of blood the took from him. He would make them pay dearly for every inch. He was El Jefe. Gods would take notice. He would make them. Hoisting his blades, Caesar welcomed the coming onslaught. He was going home.

---

Sleeping in the reclined seat of his private plane, a small smile cracked the old man's face. Words could not describe how unsettling that sight could be.

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The jogging woman had the appearance of one who was about to pack up her sweatbands and leave. Not that it had any particular impact on Keystone, he was merely observing the situation play out and judging it against diversion or surveillance technique. That, and that manner of extremely casual behavior that he never would have seen in an airport in London, likely symptomatic of the very American concepts of "Make Yourself At Home". Ironically enough, it seemed to sit right alongside another of America's notable signposts; "Trespassers Will Be Shot". Common language (barely) aside, Keystone didn't figure that he'd ever really get the United States, let alone someplace as culturally fluid as California.

He spared a look at the television that the formerly jogging lady became transfixed by, noting the headline. He gave a tiny, dismissive head shake. That wasn't exactly how it went down. But if you looked at it from a slightly skewed point of view, the Insane Striking Back did have a truthy grain to it. Ah, spin. Keystone took the first few steps to get a little closer to the television, curious as to how badly the media would slant the facts. Then something more pressing was announced over the airport speakers; apparently Flight 1873 was arriving a half hour early at Gate 18D. This called for a direction change.

Excellent. Now he could gather the Tech crew, head back to MSS's setup back at Queensguard Industries R&D, and get them both settled in and hard at work. People one could trust were a rare commodity in this town, or so he had been informed. Recent days had him fully believing it. Keystone found a nice, visible spot in good view of the passengers from Seattle who were deplaning, and made certain that his MSS credentials were in plain view. He wasn't sure exactly who was gong to show up, nor how many. The most he could do was check their credentials against current employees; a simple task with his sat phone's work app, but they had to arrive and recognize each other first. So, Keystone stood and waited.

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Chicago Heights : - Oh Ms. Amy Adams of Channel Six News was not about to give up that easily. Turning she looked at the camera and flashed a smile. "Seems our doctor is tight lipped about the murder that happened at the asylum yesterday. Is this a guilty consciousness for failing a patient or have the administrators of the home for the insane made orders to say nothing and she is just covering her own rear end? We will find out! Stay tuned! This is Amy Adams of Channel Six News, back to you John. What's our weather forecast look like today?" she said and held that newswoman smile until she got the all clear from her camera man.

Soon as she was off the air she turned around to Iris and her smile faded. "Alright, camera is off. Now, just what is going on down there? At least one was murdered, one was taken to the hospital," she started as she whipped out her note pad and flipped it open. "A one Felix Hausten. An Author from over seas, newly arrived here in Justice." Looking up from her note pad she touched the tip of her pencil to her tongue and eyed Iris. "Here's your chance to speak anonymously."

Zoies Farm: - "Ohs good lucks gettings him to answer shit right nows. Soon as his nose goes into that computers of his he walls everythang else out," Zoie said as she glared at her brother and tapped her foot on the ground. Marc sighed but nodded as he rubbed his face.

"Yeah, kid goes off into his own little world..." Marc started.

"I'm checking to see if Ross has a CIA file," Relic said before glancing over at Mali and winking with a grin.

Marc and Zoie half gawked at him for answering. "Why the hell would he have a file?" Marc asked, now really damn interested in just what in the hell Relic was up to. Relic didn't answer, just kept hacking away and periodically looking over at Mali. "That girl Valentine, she has one. It's redacted to hell and back but she has one. Now wondering if Ross has a connection with her," he said speaking to Mali and ignoring the other two.

After a few minutes he laughed and turned his computer around to show them the screen. He hadn't been hacking the CIA. At least not right then. He had been doing a search on Barney Ross to see what his public history was, a damn simple google search. He had pulled up the Barney Ross website and simple went to the ~About Barney Page~ "Here, read this..."

Barney Ross, born and raised in Salisbury Maryland, is a fitness icon and has been for the last thirty years. A decorated war veteran, after he retired from an illustrious career decided to start training the fittest of the fit. His decades of experience have helped him cultivate one of the largest Gym Franchisees and Fitness Equipment Suppliers in the Nation. He is a devoted family man though never have been married himself. He is the eldest of two sons born to former CIA director Marcus Bethal and has one niece."

Gun Range - "That would explain how you have survived in Justice so long," Roy chuckled as he drove them towards the Gun Range. "Guess using a gun wasn't really on the skills to learn list for an assassin? What did you major in, star chucking?" he teased.

Then Roy got quiet as Riley started to tell him about her High School days. That was one hell of an event to live through but it still didn't explain how she had fired a gun once before. Quirking a brow he looked over to her. "Hey, I'm a detective, not a physic. How did a dead body hanging from the ceiling end at prom get to you firing a gun at a serial killer?" he asked in a rather interested voice. This sounded like some bad murder mystery theme for a weekend get away trip.

MSS Private Jet: - "Sure thing, need anything just let me know. Right away. Doctors orders," Natasha said before nodding to Cecily about getting some rest. That sounded like a great idea. Granted she would much have rather been curled up in bed with Lincoln right then but a private jet wasn't such a bad way to spend in the air. Could have been far worse, like coach in some commercial air liner sat next to some over weight man who sweat the entire time and kept trying to talk to her despite a horrid case of halitosis.

Sitting down in her seat, Natasha got comfortable and tried to relax. Dosing in and out of sleep here and there. She never could sleep well on flights but a little rest was better than nothing. She looked up to see the single on flight stewardess coming over to her and placing their inflight meal before her. It was much better quality than anything she had expected. Perking a brow she looked at her plate and then back at the woman. "I was informed you are recovering from cancer. This meal should sit well with your meds, a bit blander than what we normally serve but it and some ginger ale should do you some good," she said with a smile. Baked chicken, steamed vegis, and some plain rice were on her plate along with a slice of angel food cake for dessert. "Thought you could handle this to sweeten up the meal," she said kindly before making her way over to the others.

Their meals were much more flavorful. Beef Wellington, seared asparagus, scalloped potatoes, and raspberry cheesecake for dessert. Placing the meals on the tables before the two she asked Cecily what she wanted to drink. She didn't bother asking Caesar, bringing him his usual. The flight was going well and they were half way there at this time. (We will even up times between those in Mexico and Justice later on.)

Justice Airport: - The walk over to gate 18D wasn't too bad, it was a bit from where Keystone had been sitting but due to the fact the flight was arriving early there were not many there waiting to board for the next flight out as of yet. By the time Keystone arrived, the one person in a wheel chair was already deboarding the flight followed by a slow line of first class people behind the old woman. It would be a few before business class and coach were able to gather their carryon's and get off the plane.

A flight attendant was standing at the end of the walkway, giving her usual "thank you for flying, have a good day, or yes, gate such and such is that way, or you can claim your baggage here," lines to the first class people as the disembarked from the flight. No one from MSS had left the flight yet. More people began to come down the path, until no one else seemed to be coming down the walkway tunnel. That was until a group rounded the corner, self separated from the rest of passengers. A mixed group of men and women but it was obvious who they were. They all dressed in black and held that MSS look on their features as if they were there to do a job.

Justice Memorial: - The News ended with a recap of the traffic situations in Justice, which as always were horrible, and a forecast for the day - Cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms rolling in that evening thanks to the heatwave running through the area. Once the Daily News was done, the flipped their programming to the Reports on the National Level. It would roll back to local in a couple of hours.

After a few minutes of commercials on the TV advertising everything from the teaser for the newest Reality Show to be aired that fall, Old Spice, and so forth the nurse finally came into the room. She was older, rather foul looking with a stern face that could have only be achieved from decades of working in the field. She dressed as if she was still a newly practicing nurse in the 1970's - complete with short white boxy heels that clanked hard on the tiled floor, boring white dress, and cap. Her gray hair pulled up in a whispy bun at the back of her neck. "What seems to be your problem? Not like the jello?" she snarked as she started checking the vitals monitor.

There were advantages to being an outsider in a group of people familiar with one another. Shake up the dynamic and let everyone learn new things about one another. At Relic's nod, she took the clue and acted at once far more interested in what he was saying than she really was. Not to say that she was disinterested, but she over-emphasized her curiosity, acting as if she was clinging to his every word. At the same time she made sure to completely ignore Zoie and Marc as well while he spoke. She dropped the act when he chuckled and turned the computer around.

"You ass," she said with a light chuckle. She balled up a nearby napkin and threw it playfully at Relic for lying about what he'd actually been doing. Really, just a normal internet search? He needed to do that so dramatically at the table? Well considering how often he was the target for teasing, this was probably getting a bit of payback.

"So a family man with no wife. So the two things that come to mind is that Valentine is either this niece, or she could be an unmentioned bastard daughter. Or adopted." No need to limit one's perceived options based on limited information. "If her presence on something like the CIA database is redacted to hell, I'm pretty sure some About section on a family member's website wouldn't mention her. Still, even if that is the case and the niece is a different person from Prosperine, we could perhaps get some information about her through that avenue. If what I said made any sense."

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"Yep, i'm a total expert in ninja throwing stars, and my sister was a master of poisons. Besides guns are to noisy." Riley said with a light laugh as she leaned back in the seat looking out of the window for a moment, then turning her attention back towards Roy. He certainly really interested in learning more about her hometown, well more on the whole murder thing. "I'm getting to it, you'd like the entire story of it anyway." She closed her eyes for a moment as she started to recall the events that had happened just a few months ago. "So anyway fast forward to several years later, we are all invited to go back to Grimm for our reunion. Cynthia was found innocent, but shes basically batshit crazy that's why she was at the asylum here. We all get there at the school gym for the first part of the reunion, that's when shit actually started to happen all over again."

Riley paused for a moment remembering that the first few victims she had literally saw moments ago. "So theres this girl named Valencia, real hot girl, she and this douchebag named Atlas were one of the first victims. There were a few, but I really try not to remember them, Chris Mallory was the killer. He would kill each of us one by one, and somehow manages to find the very same prom dresses and suits we were wearing that day. Val's body happened to be in mine, which was really freaky cuz I sold it off to an auction years ago for charity."

"After that then we are told to go to our hotel rooms, the next day my sister goes off and figures that it is Chris, I go off to find her and Marc finds me we find out that they are both at the fairgrounds that were going to be used for the reunion. Then Marc and Chris go at it, he flees into the haunted house, my sister goes shortly after. The two of them are still going at it, Chris grabs my sister Marc goes down as Chris shoots him. Luckily he had his vest on, otherwise he wouldn't have been here now he shoots Chris in the shoulder he drops his gun it ends up sliding close to me." Riley recalling it like it was yesterday, it was pretty much something that always came back in her head from time to time.

"I then pick up the gun, and just fired the whole clip into him the last shot hitting him right between the eyes." Riley said finally finishing up the story as she turned to look at Roy. "I do believe some dumbass over in Hollywood bought the rights to it and is gonna be making a whole movie off of the killings as well."

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Cecily regretted not bringing more volumes with her. She was about halfway through the book by the time meals were brought out to them. It was definitely way nicer than anything she had had on a plane before, her stomach grumbling a bit in agreement. Not only was it an actual meal, but it covered most of the major food groups. "Erm...Could I have a Virgin Shirley Temple, please?" Cecily asked, not wanting to have alcohol. She had had plenty of wine at Keystone's the night before, and she was such a lightweight she figured she'd be useless with any alcohol in her system.

Cecily ate her meal slowly, lost in her own train of thought as usual. The Jessica Jones comic was closed and tucked underneath her arm, as Cecily quickly swiped through her phone, seeing what movies she had in her library. They were all on the Cloud, but she kept most of them downloaded on her laptop. She mostly didn't want to go through the hazard of getting it out if none of them struck her interest.

There were a few X-Men movies on there, including her favorite one: Days of Future Past. While the plot differed a bit from the original comics, since Shadowcat was the one who originally went back in time, the famed Kitchen Scene always made up for it. Of course, Apocalypse was great too, though she felt that Quicksilver scene paled in comparison to the original. But speaking of the movies, something bothered her greatly...

How old were all the characters supposed to be? If Magneto was a little boy during the Holocaust, then she could estimate him as being born in the 30s. Why was he played by the same actor who portrayed him in First Class still? Shouldn't he be in his 50's now? And of course, the same went for Professor X. It made sense for Wolverine and Mystique to not age, and she supposed Quicksilver could have been 17 in the first movie and 27 in the next, but really? Even the CIA agent, who couldn't claim her slow aging to be from mutant powers, hardly looked a day older. And of course, let's not forget about Deadpool...He was in his 30s in Wolverine, but in a film set forty years or so later, he was still in his 30s? How could changing the timeline impact everything to that extent? Why didn't it make any sense?

To anyone watching Cecily's facial expression, she would seem to be deeply troubled. And of course, she was.

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Iris hesitated, looking at Amy with apprehension. She wasn't sure how hard it would be for the administrators to figure out who spoke anonymously, with everyone forwarding her contact information to anyone who had questions. There still seemed to be a big danger of losing her job, but Iris' conscience was already beginning to feel guilty. She was new to this career and knew that the board would likely cover up the incident. The families affected by this tragedy probably wouldn't learn the truth. And if she was fired and had her license confiscated, her brother would help her out. He was overprotective--he'd likely just find some job for her at his company and that would be that.

"Okay," Iris said finally. "Off the record, non? Mr. Hausten was visiting a patient who had just transferred to the Ludwig Building that day. She attacked him et bien, another patient got 'excited' and decided to join in, killing an orderly. Shortly after, the patient Mr. Hausten was visiting was abducted by an unknown woman. The SWAT team didn't arrive in time, but FBI was already on the scene for some reason..."

Iris bit her lip, tugging on another strand of her hair. "I can't give you names but...there's likely a visitor's log that you can access and figure them out from." Her conscience felt a little bit lighter, though Iris was simultaneously worried that she had made a horrible mistake. She prided herself on being an honest person, but she loved her job and loved being able to try and make a difference. She looked uneasily towards Amy, still feeling gripped by her dilemma.

"I don't know what else I can tell you...Maybe try talking to the coroner's office? Forensics already cleared the scene, je pense."

His eyes were fixated on the TV screen, as it appeared to be the only item of interest in his range at the time. He didn't realise this was a heatwave to be fully honest, he just thought it was like this over here a lot. He tried to have a little chuckle but he couldn't force it. Who cared about the weather? Unless it was integral to upcoming events, it was useless to him. if he got distracted now, it'd be game over for him for certain.

He lifted his head a little with a little push of will and physical strength, making a little smile, almost cocky but lacking the energy to full convey cockiness or smugness. If anything he was happy she was older and unremarkable. made her less likely to be working against him or be a distraction. He had to focus on the task at hand, and this woman, if she was nice enough and didn't argue or nag at him, she seemed like she could be a potential help.

"Almost like magic!" he announced her arrival after her little comment about the jello. "I didn't expect such quick help! The jello was lovely by the way, couldn't find fault at all. However, I was wondering if it was possible to get my notebook and pen, wherever they may be, or a note book and pen from anywhere in this hospital" A gentle smile was apparent on his face after talking, his German accent more apparent in his little request.

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The appearance of supper roused the grizzled master of dismemberment from his deep and profound slumber. If there was anything that could wake Caesar, it was the appearance of medium rare red meat (be it wrapped in golden puff pastry and slathered in mushroom duxelles). Almost as if by magic, even. The second that the scent of their first-class repast cut through the canned air of the plane's cabin, Caesar snapped to life, springing to his feet with hands instinctively moving to fill with sharp implements.

A gruff but unintelligible grunt later and Caesar excused himself to the cabin lavatory, where he took care of a pressing internal issue. He returned to a slightly more talkative Cecily, who was seemed particularly interested in the cinematic selections they had at their disposal. She looked disturbed. Highly. "We have time for a movie, Niña. Put something on if you want." He gave consideration to asking the young lady what troubled her so, but stopped just shy of doing so. If she felt like sharing, he reasoned that she would before too long.

Their meal looked superb. Caesar was never really one to personally go for the finer things in life, content to take things as they came. His money merely made it easier to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. It just so happened that while he financed his own desires, he was exposed to fine food and wine, vehicles, art, etc., and found that he did not hate it. Still, it was not with any particular degree of joy that he sat down to eat. His "usual" beverage, so far as plane trips went, was actually a large bottle of water. Ok, the water, plus mescal. Just not in the same glass.

About halfway through his steak, Caesar mentioned aloud, "I don't know who will be meeting us at the airport. Might be MSS, might be blood. There could be a scene. Just let it happen. Also, not everybody in mi familia speaks English." He cleared his palate with a sip of liquor, "I haven't seen these people in years. Maria will definitely be there. Benicio, Angel, too. Couple dozen others I share a name with. A lot more I don't." He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, "Maria... might want to kill me. Maybe she has a right. But not until we're done."

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They looked like the last ones off the plane, but there was no mistaking who they were. Five of them, head to toe in tactical utility wear, head to toe black. Slender in comparison to many people that he would train in unarmed combat, but they possessed a look about them that hinted to everyone around to treat them like broken glass - dangerous, best left alone. Three men, one woman, all younger than the broad pugilist would have liked. They spotted Keystone right away. Approaching directly, they stopped just outside of striking range. One extended a clipboard with official looking papers attached.

"Ibanez, Tech Specialist. Who am I reporting to?"

He wasted no words on flowery banter. "Actin' Director Johnathon Keystone. Use my last name only, right? So, you lot rated on 'and to 'and? Firearms? Tactics, Stealth an' the like? We've got us a situation in Justice, understand."

"We all have company certification in at least one firearm type, Sir, plus intermediate to advanced close combat skills. Two of us were military. The other two were recruited right out of college. Alicia trained all of us personally and we've been wearing the Black ever since. No looking back. Some asshole murdered her and we were the first ones to volunteer. We're anxious to get settled in and started, Sir. You point us where you need, and we're on it." The others seemed fine with letting this ...Ibanez speak for the group.

"Right. We can use all the 'elp we can get while Jefe's with his family. You in charge of your group, Ibanez?"

"No, sir. Seniority. We were informed that our direct report might already be on site, or arriving soon. That you?"

"Bloody 'ell no. 'eard that, too. Caesar, erm, Mr. Gonzalez told me it'd be someone unexpected-like, gave me a signal to listen for. They ain't 'ere yet, far as I'm knowin'."

"Ok, Sir. If you get us to your Hub, we can at least take over and do a fresh diagnostic, get acquainted with your system and your private files. If it's okay though, Sir?" He seemed to want to ask something.

"Yeah?"

"None of us was eaten since lunch yesterday. We could really go for a burger or something. Is that alright?"

Keystone gave a small smile. "Of course! We'll work somethin' out on the quick. Now, let's get your baggage and be on our merry."

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Chicago Heights: - "FBI?" Amy said, it was a question but more of a question to herself as she jotted down what Iris had to say now that they were off camera. Flipping the notebook closed she slipped it into her purse and nodded, a bit of a smirk on her lips as she pulled out her card and handed it over to Iris. "Think of anything else, do call me," she said before turning around and heading down the steps. Stopping at the van where her camera man was loading things up she looked back at Iris. "I'll be in touch, watch your back," she added. There was a bit of finality in her voice as the camera man pushed open the front passenger side door from his driver seat. Amy climbed in and gave a bit of a look towards Iris as they drove off.

Zoies Farm: - Relic laughed a bit as he was called an ass and shrugged. Marc on the other hand wasn't laughing and Zoie looked like she was about to thwap her brother upside the back of the head. "One way to find out," Relic added before glancing over towards Zoie.

They stared at each other for a few minutes. Brows raising between them, it looking as if they were having a wordless conversation. The further it got along the more Zoie looked as if he was asking the impossible. "Come on," Relic finally said as he closed his computer.

"Are you trying to get me killed? She'll take my damn head off!" Zoie finally snapped.

"Then don't get caught."

"What? Who?" Marc finally asked before looking over towards Mali confused as hell.

"Uh huh, no way."

"Zatara Lyo," Relic said as his sister shook her head.

Marc nearly spit out his coffee. "The supreme court justice?!?!"

Gun Range - Roy parked the car and sat there a few minutes taking in everything that Riley had told him. "That is one hell of a story, so who's gonna play you? Avril Lavigne?" he asked chuckling before shaking his head and climbing out of the car. Grabbing his bag from the back seat he rested it on top of the hood of the car before lighting up a cigarette. Taking a long puff he rubbed his chin a bit.

"So you go through all that and decide to move to Homicide USA? What, get a taste for the insanity?" he asked her as he let the smoke slip from his mouth and blew it off to the side. "Well, if you are gonna stick around and not move to some quiet place in backwoods Montana, gonna need more than Ninja skills. I mean, you're a singer, not a damn toxic waste exposed turtle right?" he said, playing around a bit but he was dead serious. She needed to learn how to handle a gun. He doubted she would get that lucky of a shot off again. Lady Luck was a fickle bitch.

MSS Private Jet: - The stewardess went and got Cecily's drink before bringing it back. Natasha sat there eating slowly. After a few bites she reached into her purse and pulled out several bottles of medication. Opening each one in turn and pulling a pill out here and a pill out there before popping what looked to be more than half a dozen in her mouth and downing it with half a bottle of water.

Natasha slowly lowered the bottle from her lips as Caesar started speaking and cocked a brow. That little speech left a lot of questions but she didn't say anything. Just gave a simple understanding nod. Had this been years ago, she would have asked a million and one questions. Asked how she could help, what she could to do be a shoulder to lean on. Those days were over. She had nearly lost herself last time she put herself out there, she wasn't going through that again. Granted she was on a plane heading to Mexico, playing personal physician to a forensics tech that had crawled shot out of a sewer right into the morgue with her Tyrannosaurus-Mex. Maybe she needed to retire.

Justice Memorial: - "Must be the drugs..." the nurse muttered after hearing Felix's little word vomit. She scowled slightly as she walked over to the table next to him and opened the drawer. Pulling out a scratch pad with the hospitals name on the top of it and a pencil she tossed it next to his tray. "Haven't got a clue where any of your things are," she said before turning on her wide low worn heels and clopping her way out of the room. The door closing heavily behind her with a thud. Why didn't she know? His things should have been in his room or at least someone should have known where they were. Shouldn't they? Okay, maybe the clothing was too ruined to keep but his wallet? Possessions? Nothing was there? That couldn't be right could it?

"What are you looking at me for? I'm just as lost as you are." Seriously, she had only known Relic for what? 9-10 days? And she'd only known Zoie for about 12 hours. There was no way that she'd have the emotional closeness to be able to instinctively suss out what their non-verbal arguments were really about.

"Wait. Stop right there. Before you go any further, you're going to have to stop being vague and explain what you're going on about. What about Zatara Lyo? Why is she important to the current conversation? Remember, I'm new. I don't know shit." Mali stood out of her chair and lightly slapped her hand down on the table (enough to make a noise, but not enough to shake the table or anything resting on it in any significant way) to punctuate her first two sentences. It seemed like everyone was about to get caught up in some long discussion and could miss her objections if she simply spoke normally. Physical action was a lot harder to ignore.

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"Heh probably that's if she decides to take up the mantle to play me." Riley said with a light laugh as they got to the shooting range, she opened up the passenger side door and followed him over to the hood of the car. She looked over at the bag, wondering what kind of guns were stored in that bag of his. Riley leaned up against the hood of the car as she started to wonder why she actually did come to the city for, and gave a slight shrug. "Just needed some musical inspiration really. That and I wanted some excitement between touring and recording." Riley answered as she thought about leaving the city, she wanted to find out those who did kill her sister as well.

"So why become a detective in the murder capital of the world anyway, why not a safer city then here?" Riley asked, since he had been drilling her, she was more curious about him not that she was suspicious of him she was just curious. "Also what kind of guns will we be shooting today and do I win a free gun permit after this as well?" Riley asked jokingly, she was also being serious someone did try to kill her the night before and she was pretty paranoid after that.

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Cecily considered sharing with Caesar her concerns about the established timeline for the X-Men film franchised, but she figured that the man both wouldn't understand and wouldn't be in the mood to talk about that. His daughter had been killed and they were on the way to her funeral. It wasn't exactly the time to explain to him the twenty year age gap that would have to be between Havok and Cyclops, as well as the fact that in the comics, Cyclops was the older one anyways. And of course, who could forget the third Summers brother, the super villain Vulcan? He hadn't even had a chance to appear yet in the film franchise, though Cecily was interested to see how that would be handled if they did.

Still, Caesar had told her she could put on a movie. Did she want to watch an X-Men film, even now? The Kitchen Scene was always a treat and she adored it, but still...But fortunately, Caesar gave her mind something else to worry over. She didn't speak a word of Spanish and she was the only one on the plane who did so. She doubted anything she picked up from watching Dora the Explorer as a little kid would be helpful. And while French was similar to Spanish, it likely wouldn't help much at all. She wasn't that proficient in French either.

"Why would she want to...never mind," Cecily said softly, shaking her head. It was Caesar's own business if he wanted to share more and elaborate as to why this Maria person wanted to kill him. She figured that a guy with that many scars had to have some people responsible for them. It made sense that Caesar would have enemies, but from the way it sounded, Maria must've been a family member. He didn't strike her as the married type, but he did have a daughter...Maybe it was Alicia's mother? Alicia's sister? She'd have more success, Cecily figured, in stressing over not knowing Spanish when visiting a grieving family of Spanish speakers than she would trying to understand Caesar's life.

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Iris took the card, about to shove it into her pocket when she thought better of it. If she reached into her pocket and took it out at work by accident, what would that say about her? It'd basically be a confession to having talked to the press. And even if she remembered not to take it out, things fell out of pockets all the time. It'd be better to leave it at home. If she needed to get in touch with Amy, it'd be able to wait until then. Or she could just look up the number online--Amy seemed the type to have her number online.

"...Watch my back?" Iris whispered to herself, gulping. Maybe keeping the card with her wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. Sliding it into her back pocket, she just hoped that it wouldn't get lost somehow. From the tone of Amy's voice, Iris felt like she should've kept her mouth shut. Stepping into her apartment, Iris closed the door and took a deep breath, trying to think of what Amy had meant. Would someone be after her? Would someone try to hurt her for talking to the press? Termination of employment was a reasonable response--was that what Amy wanted her to watch her back for?

Shaking her head, Iris grabbed the things she needed for work, Cynthia's scrapbook included. She could worry about Amy later. She didn't want to be late for work.

A brief moment of joy and anticipation flooded his body as he caught a glance of the notepad he had requested. He looked to the tray with the pencil and pad and reached for it. Then that brief moment of joy quickly passed over, his mouth left hanging open as the words he was about to let out were left empty. This was not his notepad. Almost instantly he began to feel goosebumps spread across his body like a virus. His notepad was gone. he always had his notepad on his person, yes it was true his clothes would have been ruined but in order to identify him they must have had his wallet.

Without straining his neck too much, he looked around, his head scanning the room like a sensor, trying to pick out anything unusual, but his belongings, were nowhere to be found. That nurse who offered no hospitality? Wouldn't she have known the whereabouts of his belongings, she was the one who answered his call. He tried to look out the door to see anything but it was unlikely he'd see anything of note. His thoughts swam and raced as he panicked and began writing.

In this state of confusion and realisation of vulnerability once more, he began writing about the unknown whereabouts of his clothes, the connections of the rollerderby and the murders and the shooting. That was all he got before putting the pen and paper down, ripping the paper he'd just written on out and stuffing it under his pillow. It struck him that this wasn't neccessarily Justice Memorial Hospital, or if it was, he might not be in the safest of hands. He began writing about his home life, it was on his mind, and it wouldn't appear unusual to anyone who came snooping.

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Being cryptic was new to Caesar. If he had been in the past, it was not particularly intentional. But sitting there, slowly consuming his meal (which destroyed the cliches of airplane food in general), he came to the realization that what he had just said might require some sort of explanation, however brief. The fact that his two companions on this trip back home had glanced in his direction with puzzled demeanor after he said this aloud. They hadn't asked any questions about it (though Cecily started to), but they were there, just under the surface. Ok, a little supportive detail wouldn't hurt. But he didn't feel like turning this into Story Time with Unca Caesar.

"Maria was Alicia's mother. We were married. She said this might happen." He didn't mention it, though it could be assumed that his lifestyle was a key reason why they were no longer together. And true, private security was a potentially dangerous occupation and Caesar's former life had a LOT to do with her misgivings, but very rarely would a professional in the field get themselves murdered for it. They were conducting business as usual, as far as Caesar knew. It wasn't until after that the full scope of Alicia's activities began to come out. "I didn't listen to her. M'hija didn't to listen to her either. I thought our familia was done with this foolishness. Here we are, in it again." Of course, there was the other side of that coin, now that they had viewed Alicia's second tape. Talk about cryptic.

"Now we need them to get back out." Fine. So he was being cryptic. So sue him.

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Keystone flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard handed to him by Ibanez as they all made their way to Baggage Claim. It was work orders and personnel overview mostly; basic stuff for transfers, but what surprised him was the lack of official documentation that he would have to sign or at least acknowledge before moving forward. A brief second of distrust hit him at that realization. It smoothed over as he came to the conclusion that imposters would probably have had much more complete and convincing paperwork. Figuring that this group was probably sent in by El Jefe under direct orders and not through channels, there would be less to process. It might even be better this way.

Personnel files at least gave him names, which he went over in a quiet voice. "Ibanez... Vinters... Huang... Huang?" A moment of curiosity overtook him and he casually glanced back to the Asian in the group, and he asked, "你的家人是從黃河流域嗎?"

"Originally, yes sir. Some still live there." he responded, surprised that the large, oafish-looking man was fluent. Very fluent.

Turning his attention back to the list, he finished up with, "...and Whitmore... Right. Got space in m'ride for the lot of you; you and your bags, both." He did like his new vehicle. Not that he was the "thank-you note" type of guy, but he would have to mention something to Caesar when he got back. But speaking of room for bags, the group of similarly dressed persons had made it down to Baggage Claim. "Right then. Grab your shit. Car's outside; big black monster. I'll fill in proper once we're on the way." An odd thought occurred to him. He looked back at the new Tech people, curiously inquiring, "Oi! You lot wanna buy out a taco truck on the way in? I could do with a grande soddin' burrito 'bout nowish."

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The room was barely lit but within it and reflecting off the the marble walls one could see large table with seating running down it on either side. Yet not all of the seats were filled at this time. The ones that were, it was hard to tell who was sitting in each of them but that didn't matter. They all knew their place, their jobs, and that they were not to touch the head of the table. That place was reserved for one person and one person alone.

Nails drummed on the dark wood finish, pail skin that looked like it had started the first signs of creping. Tissue paper forming along the surface of once young and nubile flesh. Nails, long and ovaled were painted in a deep crimson as they rapt on the surface. Clicking away in staccato with each tap.

"What the hell was she thinking?" a cold voice said in a low tone. It was like ice cracking under pressure on a lake the way it came out. No one answered. "This jeopardizes everything."

"Perhaps it is time to fall back into the shadows until things calm down," one said sitting further down the table.

"Agreed. This will blow over, there is no connection. We shouldn't make one," another added.

The nails disappeared into the shadows before a single gun blast went off, the flash from the barrel seen from the darkness and the sound of it hitting stone echoing out in the room. "No, we take care of this and we take care of it now."

"And where do we start?" a third asked.

"I already have, we have someone on the inside," a forth answered.

A man came out of the shadows, carrying a stack of folders. Slowly he distributed them to each of those sitting there. "Take them out, all of them," the cold voice ordered. There was no argument. An order had been given and they followed it. The last folder was placed in front of the head of the table and the thin fingers slowly opened it, a list of names, information on each of them. They were now on the list.



Even though so many are now being hunted, there are still bodies that have had no Justice laid out on slabs. Maybe, just maybe figuring out what happened or what will happen to their killers will keep you safe. Then again, it just might take you deeper down the rabbi hole.

Case file 7354-DW-592 - Alicia Gonzalez and Lorna Dunn: Case Open - Homicide - Assigned to Detective Johnson

Case file 7353-JQ-889 - Stephanie Gretchen: Case Open - Assault - Death from infection - Assigned for some beat cop in the 23rd precinct

Case file 5461-LX-115 - David Lawson & Lance Clemins: Case Closed - Murder/Manslaughter - Case Reopened by FBI Agent Marc Tinder - Feds have jurisdiction granted by Supreme Court Justice Zatara Lyo

Case file 3545-FJ-657 - Randel Harding: Case Open - Murder - Assigned to some homicide detective in the Deadlight District. Orderly at Justice Asylum murdered by Jaina Sarbye - Charges will most likely involve Insanity Plea

Case file 3545-FJ-657B - Felix Hausten: Case Open - Assault with intent to kill - Same homicide detective. Stabbed in the eye by a crayon



MSS Private Jet: Tasha kept silent as she listened to Caesar explain, well partially explain. The way he left it off left perhaps more questions than there had been to start with. Looking back down at her meal she ate slowly, figuring it was better to leave things alone than to press the matter. She managed to eat about half her meal before she pushed the tray away and asked for the stewardess to take it.

Resting back in her seat the doctor got comfortable, curling up slightly under her coat. She hadn't even realized that she had drifted off to sleep when the stewardess was shaking her shoulder a bit to rouse her. Natasha opened her eyes and gave the woman a perplexed look, that was until it was explained to her that they were about to start the descent for landing in Monterrey. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and put her seatbelt back on.

"We should be landing in about fifteen minutes," the stewardess told Caesar before she started her rounds collecting the last of the glasses and such from drinks and snacks during the flight.

Justice Airport: By the time the crew from Seattle made it down to the baggage claim area the rest of the passengers that had been on the flight had cleared their stuff away and were gone. Whether everyone that had been on the flight was gone because the crew had gotten off the flight last or because the crew gave the rest of the passengers the heebeegeebees was up for debate. Either way, they were gone and the only luggage left on the carousel was theirs. It was time grab their shit and go, least there was no line to wait in.

Zoie's Farm: Zoie threw her hands up. She looked vexed but it was obvious that it wasn't directed at Mali and her question, the look she shot her brother spoke volumes. Marc too seemed a bit lost to what was going on. Maybe not as much as Mali was but he was wondering where the dots connected and just what the two siblings were getting at.

Relic sighed a bit as he looked between Mali and Marc. Taking a moment, he figured it was time to fill them in on the unspoken words between him and his sister. He sat there and explained that with what they had found so far about Proserpine he figured that the girl in the picture was Valentine as a child and since he knew that Barney Ross had a redacted file, maybe the girl did too. Thing was though there were files out there, somewhere, that were not redacted. What better place to start than with a Supreme Court Justice that employed his sister?

"So I's just supposeds to sticks me neck outs there and gets killed for it?" Zoie snapped.

"Then don't get caught," Relic restated flatly.

Justice Asylum: It was a damn circus outside of the Asylum. Every news station in Justice and from the surrounding area was camped out front trying to get the story. All save one. Channel Six's Amy Adams was no where to be seen.

Inside of the building things were calmer though. There was a tenseness to the air but it was at least much calmer than it had been the day before. Jaina had been sedated and was in solitary due to the murder of the orderly and the attempted murder of Felix. The higher ups knew there was going to be an investigation but they were hoping it would blow over quickly. The woman was obviously mad and not in her right mind. Any sentence they would deal out would only keep her locked up where she was even longer. It would be like giving a life sentence to someone who already had one. They couldn't possibly think they could give her the death sentence could they?

Gun Range: "Sometimes what we do isn't a job, it's our atonement," Roy said as he snatched his bag off the top of the car and hoisted it onto his shoulder. "Well, let's start small and see if you can earn that cracker jack prize at the bottom of the box," he said as he flicked his cigarette across the parking lot and headed towards the building.

Stepping inside he glanced around before heading up to the front desk and signing himself in. "Me and a guest," he told the clerk as he showed his membership card.

"Licensed?" the clerk asked.

"Since when does that matter in here?" Roy countered. The clerk smirked a bit and hit the buzzer to the gate to the left. Turning Roy looked over to Riley. "This way, stay by me," he said giving her a slight nod and holding the door open for her.

Justice Memorial: The time went by slowly in the hospital when there was nothing to do but when someone had their mind set on something things went by rather quickly. The TV ha for some reason lost it's input and there was nothing but snow on low volume being shown now. The minutes ticked by and before anyone could know it, a volunteer was bringing in lunch. Was it already that time? Did it really matter considering this time it wasn't pure liquids, there was an actual meal. A hospital meal mind you but still solid food. Setting the tray down, the man didn't say a word before turning and walking right back out. The door closing heavily behind him.

Precinct 54: "Jones, you seen Gregory?!" the Captain yelled out from his office.

"Naw, haven't seen him in a few days boss," Jones said looking up from his desk. "Want me to give him a call?"

"Fuck, he isn't answering his phone or replying to his messages," Captain spouted off in a frustrated manner.

"Maybe he finally got himself killed," Jone said, half joking, half serious. Captain groaned a bit.

"Check the morgues," he said before snapping his fingers. "Khurana is it? Come on in, time to get you on the job," he said before stepping back into his office and leaving the door open.

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Caesar's explanation didn't explain too much ultimately. If anything, it painted an image in Cecily's mind of Caesar's family constantly getting mixed up in conspiracies, with men in suits always chasing them down with guns. If that really was the case, she didn't blame Maria for not wanting that for her kid. The survival rate with these sort of things didn't seem to be all that great. They were lucky to be alive at the moment. She spent most of the remainder of the flight watching an X-Men movie on her laptop, headphones on, since she was messaging with Roy about it and that franchise was on her mind anyways.

Towards the end of the film, she adjusted her headphones so only one of the pads was actually covering her ears, allowing her to hear what was going on in the plane as well. Once they told Caesar and Natasha that they were going to be descending, Cecily turned off the movie, already perfectly aware of how it would end, and started to stow her belongings back inside of her bag. Her gun would be left on the plane, after Caesar's warning about weapons policies.

She left her headphones out however, thinking that she might as well listen to music for the remainder of the flight. It was her usual routine when it came to airplanes. If she was landing in Seattle, she'd always listen to Owl City. Anywhere else, the music selection was fair game. For the moment, ACDC songs were going through her headphones, more specifically, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. The brief intermission from danger and death would end once the plane had landed. Cecily just hoped no one in Mexico would be out to kill them.

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Once Iris finished traveling from her apartment at Chicago Heights to the asylum, she was greeted with what seemed to be an endless crowd of reporters. She practically had to push her way through the crowd, muttering "désolée!" and "sorry!" and "excuse me!" over and over again. By the time she managed to get through, she had to straighten out her hair a little bit in the lobby. However, at least things were a bit more peaceful than the day before.

Iris showed her badge to security before heading inside, picking up any papers that had been left for her at the nurse's station. She then headed into her office and set everything down, putting Cynthia's possessions into her desk's locked cabinet and locking them up. She didn't want anything to happen to them, just in case the FBI agent needed them as evidence. She'd need to look to see what patients she'd need to see, but she also wanted to know what had happened to Jaina. When she left the asylum last night, she was still in the room Marc had placed her in.

Iris then headed back over to the nurse's station and eventually located the paper trail that indicated that Jaina had been placed in solitary. "Quel dommage," Iris murmured to herself. It was all such a mess, everything that had happened the previous day. A murder, a kidnapping, and a stabbing. She just hoped today would be better.

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Riley looked at Roy as he spoke, to her it felt like he had done something in his past that he most likely regretted she decided that it was most likely something personal to him and decided to stay quiet about it. Riley walked along side him as Roy hefted up the bag and started to make his way into the shooting range. "Do people even actually still eat that shit?" Riley asked jokingly, she remembered when she was younger that her brother always liked Cracker Jacks, every time she tried it Riley would always gag when she ate them. When they entered the shooting range Riley stood right next to Roy.

Riley stuffed her hands into her pockets as Roy signed the two of them in, looking around Riley could hear some people shooting off guns in the next room. Letting out a slight sigh she was still slightly nervous the last time she shot a gun ended up killing someone. When Roy finished Riley gave the clerk a slight nod as she turned around and started to follow alongside Roy as he held the door open for her. Riley looked around the shooting range and then over to Roy as she stepped into the room.

So it was already that time. It felt like the minutes were melting away, but at the same time it was like the minutes were dragging on. The state he was in was hard to describe, it felt like it was mere minutes ago when he had awoken and now it was already lunch, but along with it he felt bored out of his mind. All he could do right now, was write. It was what he was good at but at the same time, irony kicked in, leaving this the only thing he could do at the moment. Phoning Riley or Marc would've been a godsend, he needed to see someone. This feeling of isolation and vulnerability was getting to him. The fear that anyone could walk through that door with a gun and end his life with a second, it sent chills through his body.

As the man delivered the tray and then went to walk off, Felix let out the beginnings of a sentence, but the door had already swung closed before he had the chance. He reached up and a hand down his face, letting out a sigh as his fingers ran over his skin and tubes that went around his face. He looked to the Tv that had done nothing but spew static at him and he sighed again. He looked to the solid food and prodded it with his finger slightly. Would he eat it? he wasn't sure yet.

Where was everyone? Where had his TV stream gone, everything felt like the world outside was closing down and leaving Felix alone in this room. And it'd barely been more than 4 hours. Of course if he was in danger, the food might be poisoned. Might be the case that the room was bugged too. A smirk slowly appeared on his face. Finally something to have fun with for a few seconds. "If this room is bugged, don't be a stranger, I would love to talk"

"Easier said than done, Relic. Juno's already suspicious towards her, that's why I'm acting as her 'cover,' which we should probably get sorted out soon before somebody forgets. Not to mention 'don't get caught' is the least helpful advice you can give. It's like telling a boxer to not get punched." She doubted anyone would actually just forget, but just that it would get pushed to the wayside as important and/or dangerous new happenings sprang up.

"But I just don't see how a Supreme Court Justice would have access to classified intelligence like this. Was Valentine involved in a court case that would go up to the Supreme Court? Would probably be a lot easier to get ahold of information about her if she had. That said, being afraid to stick your neck out won't get us anywhere. I don't think any of us here are under the impression that what we're doing isn't ridiculously dangerous and liable to get one, if not all of us killed." Mali shrugged. It would be great if she could present a strong counter proposal for Relic's apparent suicide mission. However, she didn't have a clear idea of how to progress with the information she had at the moment.