[H3][color=gray]The Dreadnaughts[/color][/h3][hr]
[i]”Shit!”[/i] Washe shouted. “Shit, shit, [i]shit!”[/i]

In the detention center which Washe resided, he was seated at a setup of tables and monitors, all with access to various cameras. It became clear too late that a third party was involved in this fight – and that factor would’ve become clear sooner had his resources been more reliable. Standard cameras, difficult to make out faces and colors and outfits. As such, was unable to react in time when the third party executed Khan and the Fiends began their chanting. He looked back at Sulfur, who was hugging her knees fearfully, and averting eye contact with Washe. Khan was so close to meeting Washe here.

He pressed the comm on his headset, “Grit! Don’t you just fucking [i]squat[/i] there, follow that fucker! Hurry!”

It was about as long as it took for Grit to realize that Khan wasn’t following as it did for Washe to send out that command. Grit nodded, and sprinted through the halls, jumping over rails of staircases, catching his footing as he made each leap to the story below.

“He’s escaping through utility! After him!” Washe barked.

Try as he may, even as each foot pounded against the tiling and crushing the debris underfoot with the force of his stampede, not even the swiftest of the Dreadnaughts was able to make it to the closet in time before the primed detonators went off, collapsing that whole section of the building and blocking Grit’s entry.

“Fucking [i]hell!”[/i] Washe shouted as he threw a porcelain mug across the room. It shattered on impact, hundreds of shards flying about. He hit a button on a keyboard, and yelled into the speaker with spittle flying from his tomato-red face.

“Eyes! Where did this fucker go?! Is he underground?!”

“I think so,” Maria responded, “underground mapping indicates there’s a system of sewers close to NEST headquarters. Connections to NEST’s sewage may likely have been wiped from the maps for security reasons, but it’s reasonable to—“

“Fucking [i]on[/i] with it!”

“There are too many connections to your location. If he’s in the sewers, they could be lead to any district in the city. There’s one that is right in the middle of this intersection just outside the HQ.”

Washe let go of the key and pressed his headset. “Grit, go outside immediately. Pry open that fucking manhole in the middle with your fucking teeth if you got to, just don’t let that fucker escape!”

“Caesar, I’m getting something else here.” Maria said, meanwhile Grit heard his order and made his sprint towards the lobby entrance. He pushed open the door with his shoulder, staggering out the entrance and making it into the parking lot. Cop cars and NEST vans were everywhere. Over the manhole was an officer’s motorcycle. Rushing towards it, he front kicked the bike over without a second thought, letting it haphazardly crash to the ground without a second thought. Following the angered shouts of the surrounding police force, Grit stuck the barrel of the AK through the hole in the manhole, and levered the lid open, then grabbing that lid with his hand and rolled it aside. The barrel of the gun, was bent out of shape and rendered unusable. 

Grit slid down the ladder toward the sewers, his hand gripping a mini-flashlight on his utility belt.

“What is it, Eyes?” Washe asked.

“I’m seeing someone else.” Maria said. “There’s a woman running through the streets… she’s doing something, let me see if I can zoom in.”

Washe impatiently tapped the table he was seated at as he waited for Maria to get back to him.

“She was on the phone.” She informed. “She’s near one of sewer entrances further in the web.”

“Get a hold of that signal, now!”

“I’m getting right on— oh, no!”

“What? What happened!”

“She destroyed it!” Maria exclaimed. “I’m trying to see where that signal went but it goes nowhere! The receiver has also been…”

“It’s been destroyed too…” Washe said dejectedly. He swung his chair around and reached into his pocket. He looked at his phone solemnly, before unlocking it and hitting a speed dial number.

A few seconds passed.

“Hello.”

“Belroth. This is Caesar speaking.” Washe said. “Our mission has failed. I’m requesting permission to proceed with plan B.”

[hr]

Baron, after struggling to get back on his feet from Lihua’s rough handling of his person, the flashbang, and the previous explosion, took a look at Khan’s corpse. He took two fingers off her neck. There was no doubt about it. The once proud leader of a ruthless organization lie dead before him, and there was no medicine that could bring back the deceased. He closed his eyes for a moment of silence, which was promptly broken by the ringing of his phone. He drew it out, looked at it, and then faced Lihua.

“It’s Caesar.” He said. Baron answered it. He nodded, repeating the typical, “uh huh”, “right”, “okay”, “got it”, then the click. He pocketed the phone and reached into the coat of his suit, withdrawing a syringe. A peculiar sight of course to any strangers. Normal people didn’t carry syringes – and Baron normally didn’t use them for this purpose, but this was important. He set the needle near the bottom of her torso near her intestinal region.

“This is a depressant.” Baron explained to Lihua, already anticipating her questions. “A powerful one at that. There is no longer a heartbeat, so it won’t travel very well. So you inject it close to the organs you want to keep. It’s best to do it soon after death to take advantage of the blood still flowing from before. Then when rigor mortis takes places a couple hours from now, the powerful muscles from the abdomen will contract and consequently increase pressure in the blood vessels. This will also help it travel, though the blood will be thick by then.”

At the earliest chance he could, Baron caught the attention of the first responders and pointed towards a pool of blood. Some were from Khan. What he wanted especially was blood from the man who had fallen earlier. A fall like that will certainly result in gashes. Hair would also suffice. “Sample that, please! Near the crack – yes, right there. Thank you. Bring it to agent Vuhong as soon as the lab gets results.”

He returned to said agent, to continue his explanation.

“The depressant should help preserve the body long enough that we can find clues in Khan’s system. Especially if we find traces of this power drug lining her intestines, we should be able to synthesize a copy. ”

He pointed at the bruising on her face. “She was wearing a mask. She got a thrashing, but we can’t pick up any details about her killer there. Instead, we should look at her arms, throat, and under her fingernails. If she has any scratches, there should be some residue of her killer left on her body. If she scratched him or anything like that, we might find his skin under her nails. If we can find the bullets he has been firing, we might be able to trace the caliber and rifling to their manufacturer and check sales history in the area.”

He sighed as he stood up, reaching into his other pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes – with every intention of fueling his dirty habits. “Whatever happens, we need to find out who was behind Khan’s death.” He said as he began lighting one of the cigarettes in his mouth. He inhaled deeply on the stick and blew smoke out his mouth. “And Lihua Vuhong... meet with Washe and me tonight. We need to talk.”