[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://cdn4.cnet.com/img/dBQ8L-HwOrBYxg7TLh7uQ9rICEM=/770x433/2016/08/29/44426d3d-1710-4f8b-85e1-1b34396208c1/machete.jpg[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Morgue [hr][hr][/center]

	Caesar snapped on one of the doctor's exam gloves from a nearby box before returning to Natasha. He gingerly took the matchbook from her, careful not to cause damage to the thing. The choice to use gloves was a no-brainer; it was generally policy in places like this. But a more pragmatic if somewhat paranoid reason was called for in this instance: He did not know this Dr. Brinne, and there was most definitely a conspiracy in play. The last thing he needed was his fingerprints on something that might later be labeled "State Exhibit A". 

	Bar food. Lots of it, from the sound of stomach contents. This Afterdark place was a hangout solid enough for them to eat comfortably, else they had been there numerous times. Or they took a fancy to hot and salty bar fare and had apps with their entrees. Whatever. Point was, they (or at least Lorna) was at this place shortly before she died. The presence of the matchbook in her gut meant that either someone else shoved it down her throat to bait an investigation, or she did it herself knowing that her time might be up to give him a lead. Hell of a breadcrumb. Risky too, considering the discomfort passing the damned thing would have caused had she survived somehow. 

	So, either this was a trap, or Lorna was a smart girl who jumped on an opportunity when it presented itself. Didn't matter, he had to follow up on it anyway. [color=orangered]"I have to look into this."[/color] He checked the time. It was approaching evening; he could afford to rest for a little bit before heading out. And though he didn't want to admit it, he could stand to take a few minutes. The day wasn't exactly ideal, and he was getting up there in age. He could do the same things he always ever could, but these days, naps and time sitting down were becoming more common. [color=orangered]"It's been fun today, Cecily. Has. Really. But I'm done putting other people in danger, at least for now."[/color] 

	Caesar punched in the name of the establishment into his sat phone, getting the address and a couple of questionable reviews for his trouble. He'd do a more in depth look later, but for now, it looked like the kind of craphole he spent some of his younger days in; a seedy bar in a disreputable part of town. He reserved the tab, and moved on to another application. 

	[color=orangered]"Cecily?"[/color] Caesar said in an almost friendly voice. He quickly snapped a picture of her (not her best angle, obviously) and handed his device over to her. [color=orangered]"Enter your Social, Email, and sign with the stylus. You will get something in your inbox within five minutes. The moment you confirm, you'll have provisional access. Confirm whenever you feel like it. Now, tomorrow, two months from now, whenever."[/color] 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://images.tapology.com/letterbox_images/1633/default/mariusz_pudzianowski_klasa.jpg?1454962897[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Outside Elisabeth's Office
[hr][hr][/center] 

	Keystone sighed heavily. He had no idea how long this was going to take, and there were too many questions in play. For the moment, all he could do was make periodic checks with his team there in the R&D campus. Otherwise, all he had to do to pass the time was imagine scenarios in which he would have to disarm, mutilate, and or dispatch the other security team in his territory, should they prove to make an aggressive motion in the slightest. Sometimes his thoughts on the matter turned to the fanciful or outside of the box, but mostly it was an exercise in cause-and-effect, What If style scenarios. 

	Mostly, they involved unarmed, personal assaults, possible in these close quarters. But just sometimes, the imagined roar of a 50 caliber handgun at close range imploding the better part of a face away brought an internal chuckle. Other than that, he waited.