[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ccff]Cecily Ashworth[/color][/h1][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxdtnpHngQ1qf426so1_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: Alicia's Secret Hideout; Queensguard Private Airfield[/center][hr][hr]Cecily followed Caesar's instructions, grimacing slightly at the thought of Caesar pulling a bullet out of her. She knew it'd have to be done essentially, but she slowly became more and more convinced that he'd try to use a machete or something to do it. Best bet was to wait for Natasha--assuming the doctor was still alive. Cecily had been acting coroner for all of a minute, she felt, and attempts on her life had already begun. How long would they wait for Natasha?

[color=00ccff]"Unless these come with an operation manual, I think I'm good..."[/color] Cecily explained, looking at the various weapons in the room. She hadn't fired a single bullet from her gun. And with her minimal training in shooting, she doubted she'd manage to hit anyone. As Alicia's video began to play, Cecily kept a respectful distance, but she listened carefully. 

[i]We're so fucked[/i], Cecily thought to herself, before correcting her thoughts. Caesar was trained for this type of thing--for a cult of powerful women, hellbent on murder and destruction. [i]I'm so fucked.[/i] She bit her lip, ready to leave Alicia's hideout whenever Caesar was, when a thought occurred to her. Proserpine had murdered this woman. Proserpine was a deadly assassin, Cecily figured, and she had killed Alicia Gonzalez. 

How the [i]hell[/i] had she survived, instead of Alicia? Her mind flickered back to the traumatic day in the coroner's office, where the bullet whizzed by and hit the doorframe. If Juno only recruited the best, then there was no reason for Proserpine to miss. Cecily couldn't help but be perplexed by the fact she was still breathing. There was no reason for her to be alive--unless perhaps they wanted her to be? Biting down on her lip even harder, she couldn't help but feel dirty and used. That was one explanation for why she had been named coroner--and why Proserpine hadn't killed her. 

Somehow, perhaps they were using her? It didn't make any sense. Alicia, even in death, would probably last longer than she ever could hope for in a fight. And Iris' card? Were they trying to recruit her third cousin? She could understand why they'd want Iris, perhaps. 

[color=00ccff]"I'm ready when you are,"[/color] Cecily said quietly, but her thoughts continued to trouble her. 

[i]Why am I still alive?[/i][hr][hr][center][h1][color=#99ccff]Iris Kingston[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/dc0c085c14a954810f05858115ada690/tumblr_mhfzxa17I41s4v93wo1_250.gif[/img][hr]Location: [s]Arkham Asylum[/s] Justice Asylum For The Criminally Insane: the Ludwig Building[/center][hr][hr]The more Iris interacted with Cynthia, the more she appeared to be a hard case. It was perhaps a first in her (admittedly) short psychological career: she wished she had read the file beforehand. Reconsidering briefly having agreed to see Cynthia straight away, Iris smiled as the girl recounted an old rhyme. It was morbid, but it wasn't entirely new for childhood rhymes. One about plague, and then this one about burial of the living. 

Valentine appeared to have plenty of questions, but Iris wasn't sure whether discussing death was the correct approach with this patient. There was some sort of underlying trauma, now associated with the holiday. Iris had seen women scarred for life before--Cynthia resonated with them in her mind. [color=99ccff]"Yes, I quite enjoy the holiday,"[/color] Iris replied. [color=99ccff]"I've always spent it with some mates."[/color]

However, Valentine's description of the holiday didn't quite match up with the traditional symbols. Love, sweethearts, roses, chocolate, swans--but red pictures? Combined with the girl's talk of death, Iris couldn't help but guess towards the worst. Someone had made a distinct impression on the girl, Iris suspected. The identity disorder was likely pre-existing...but why the fixation of Valentine's day?

[color=99ccff]"Could you tell me about your friends, Cynthia?"[/color] Iris asked. 
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]https://s28.postimg.org/jh7kwi18d/tuesday.gif[/img][hr]Location: Club AfterDark[/center][hr][hr]Tuesday rolled her eyes. She figured that most of her brain cells had been killed by one drug or another at this point. Medical school wasn't going to be easy at all. She'd be lucky to make it through it, assuming she could even manage to complete rehab. [color=ff6600]"We've got the same amount of brain, you dork. Just depends how much we've smoked away at this point in our lives,"[/color] she joked. 

Frowning a bit, Tuesday did feel slightly nervous with all the yelling in the kitchen. Yelling in Justice tended to lead to fights. And fights, about half of the time, led to the cops. Cops? Not her cup of tea. Avoiding them like hell tended to be her usual rules of operation, with the exception of Marc. She'd need to contact him later that evening. [color=ff6600]"Yeah, let's bounce. We good to go take care of business?"[/color] Tuesday asked. Maybe a run would get her head out of this funk. At any rate, the club wasn't helping. And Ronnie would be hungry even if he did manage to get his food.