Following the conclusion of his daily visit, Lance jogged back to his place, his place being a small apartment pretty close to the bay where the chemical incident occurred. While he wasn't conducting any sort of investigation related to the happening, he was always on the look for any sort of government sanctioned operation that would further shed light on the case. That was also why he rented the apartment; so that he could be closer to the site.

Quietly slinking up the stairs, making sure that he wouldn't disturb his unemployed, lazy young neighbor next door, he unlocked the door to his apartment and made his way in, making sure to lock the door afterwards. The apartment was very neat and tidy, a habit that passed onto Lance from the disciplinary training he received during his time as a spook. Back then, not fixing your bed before 6:30 a.m led to a severe 10 minute beatdown in a basement several feet down a farm. Putting the keys on the dining table, Furlong took off his shirt and walked to his bedroom, opening a wooden closet and selecting one of the towels that were carefully stacked in there. He always took a shower after the jog, but never used soap, shampoo, or anything that might release a scent. He made that mistake during his first week as Shepherd, and got into a fierce battle with a mutant dog. Needless to say that while he managed to crawl out alive, another scar was added to his large collection. Bullet wounds, shrapnel, knife wounds, shattered bones, burn scars, you name it, he has 'em. His most noticeable scars are the ones passing through both of his eyes, which he obtained during a botched operation in St. Petersburg where he was serving as support for a NAVY Seals team.

After taking a hot shower, Lance made sure that his feet were dry before moving back to the living room, the towel wrapped around waist. He fetched the remote control from one of the couches and turned on the TV, skipping through the many ridiculous infomercials, talk shows and reality TV channels. Whenever he turned the TV on, he either did so to watch a movie or, most likely, the news. And, in a twist of fate, it turned out at that very moment, there was something rather interesting happening over down at Luther Street. 

[b]"...our most recent reports suggest that there are currently nine hostages in there with him. We will keep you all updated as the situation develops here at Luther Street. Back to you Tom."[/b]

[color=9e0b0f][i]"A hostage situation? In the middle of the day?"[/i][/color], Lance thought, scratching his temple in almost childlike manner. It was then that an idea popped up into his head. He pranced all the way to his bedroom again and opened his closet, this time revealing a hidden compartment within the closet where a single, black briefcase was located. The briefcase was locked and there was a code needed to bypass it. Paranoia - another thing that passed onto Furlong from the CIA. The briefcase was revealed to contain his suit and both of his weapons. After some brief pondering, Lance picked up his suppressed handgun and suited up, deciding to wear the mask only once he got out of sight. His bike was parked in the back and covered by a brown blanket. If he could actually manage his way in and disarm the criminals, he could gain recognition by the Mayor and perhaps strike a deal with the people in charge. That way, he could avoid prosecution AND gather intel on enemies or potential enemies. The tricky part of his master plan was avoiding suspicion by the public eye.

Mounting his vehicle of choice, he drove a few feet away from his apartment, put on his mask and rode away to the crime scene.