[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ccff]Cecily Ashworth[/color][/h1][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/126b624abf9efcea620b7e1177af64a9/tumblr_inline_nvc0bbkXsT1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: The Coroner's Office ---> the Morgue[/center][hr][hr]Cecily felt more than a little strange, sitting in Wallace's office. Her laptop in front of her, she continued typing away, frowning and stopping every few moments to change a sentence. The wording of this would have to be careful, especially given the fact that her parents would be quick to scold her if her moment of fame ruined their careers. They profited off of ineffective forensics departments, of incompetent police work, and easily persuaded witnesses. The moment her parents had seen the news that their daughter had been appointed County Coroner, they were furious. She sighed a bit, remembering that call. It had been the usual complaints, culminating in a wish that she had been more like her brother. 
[center][color=00ccff][i]I apologize for any inconvenience my resignation may...[/i][/color][/center]
 Cecily shook her head a bit, backspacing over the words. She already hated the sound of the sentence, just as much as she hated the situation she ended up in. Improvisation wasn't something she exceeded at. And now, now they had her in charge of the entire show, when she didn't know the first thing about opening up a human corpse. Pulling at her hair, Cecily deleted the draft of the email. She'd finish it later. She could only procrastinate signing the release papers for the bodies so long. 

She bit her lip, her mind flashing back to the events of the week. Riley's car crash. The deaths of four residents of the Boston Heights. Roy getting shot. Roy telling her that he covered up Peyton's murder. The mysterious brands they found on Alicia and Gretchen, and the odd compounds detected in Alicia and Lorna's lungs. 

[color=00ccff]"I can't do this by myself,"[/color] Cecily whispered, rising from the chair. She knew that she should probably dress better than she did, in case the press came, but she could hardly care. She wore her favorite t-shirt -- an Iron Man comic strip -- and a comfy sweater, all for comfort. Her pistol was concealed as well, just in case someone tried to kill her again. Leaving the office, her fingers briefly ran over where the bullet had collided into the frame of the door just a week prior, and she sought on some of her now underlings. 

[color=00ccff]"Evidence forms need to be looked over again, signed and dated in triplicate before we release the bodies,"[/color] Cecily reminded them. It had been the only slight change she implemented, since being appointed County Coroner. She wasn't going to leave any room for corruption in the department if she could help it. And perhaps, with her taking everything seriously, they wouldn't turn around and vote her coroner. That'd be nice. [color=00ccff]"Are all of the files backed up on paper yet as well?"[/color]

She didn't wait for an answer. Entering the morgue, Cecily found the bodies, all of them on a separate slab. Each time she looked at them, she couldn't help but have a horrible suspicion. The brands on Gretchen and Alicia -- someone had to be doing it on purpose. Perhaps it was some sort of mark from a killer, perhaps a gang symbol. At any rate, she doubted that Justice would do anything about the deaths. It was all up to her, the last line of defense. 

[color=00ccff]"Hello Alicia, Lorna,"[/color] Cecily said quietly, standing near the dead girls. [color=00ccff]"You know, in [i]the New 52[/i], Suicide Squad members are brought back to life via some complicated mechanism...I'm not sure if that's possible, but...Well..."[/color]

She didn't really know where she was going with this. Cecily looked over the forms, glancing at the evidence gathered. She'd spent a few days in Roy's apartment, scouring YouTube and online textbooks for information on how to properly perform autopsies. She had studied chemistry and biology in college, never taking more than just a course on anatomy. And had the victims not been practically related to Caesar, she would have called in Machete Security Services. They likely had someone on staff who knew forensics. 

Instead, her mind flickered to Lawson's case file. The FBI had taken over that investigation, given jurisdiction into what appeared to be a simple manslaughter case. She was certain that it wouldn't be taken well, but...She couldn't help but be tempted to try to send this case up to the FBI, to pass along the buck. 

[color=00ccff]"There's kerosene in your lungs..."[/color] Cecily added, staring at Alicia in particular now. [color=00ccff]"And you knew the woman who tried to kill me...If only the dead could talk, right?"[/color]
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]http://67.media.tumblr.com/24549866ed143be11dbfc570a7ff8e12/tumblr_inline_nl7kc4WNy21rpdlxb.gif[/img][hr]Location: Imperial Apartments 4C[/center][hr][hr]Tuesday had been up for a few hours, hitting her laptop as it refused to load. It refused to do much beyond play [url=https://youtu.be/Qf4Ea59Uods]Merry Happy[/url] by Kate Nash, looping the song over and over again. While it was one of her favorites, now wasn't the time. It would be visitation day before she knew it at the lockup, meaning it'd be time for her to get to work. Her current client was a stereotypical rich girl, unable to live without oxycotin behind bars. Tuesday snorted slightly, at the thought of it. 

Her client had no taste. Oxycotin, of all things? [color=ff6600]"Work, dammit!"[/color] Tuesday screamed, hitting the computer. As if in retaliation, Kate Nash's voice grew louder, only to be mixed with Tuesday's phone ringing. Sighing deeply, she glanced over at it, only to see the familiar number. Picking up on it, Tuesday found herself facing an onslaught in Spanish. 

[color=ff6600]"Calmarse hijo de puta , voy a conseguir el producto entregado pronto,"[/color] Tuesday protested, only for her employer to continue to screech. [color=ff6600]"Yo nunca dejo abajo, tonto? Eh?"[/color] For a few moments, Tuesday paused, listening as the man on the other end only became more enraged. Seemed his daughter wasn't doing too hot, they'd need her to deliver more than she usually did. [color=ff6600]"Más de miel más dinero, eh, el Cránero?"[/color]

She smiled a bit, before hanging up. An angered client had turned into an opportunity for her to earn a bit more money. She knew that Riley likely would be irritated with her, but thinking about her sister was the last thing Tuesday wanted to do. Murders seemed to follow Riley, anyways. She'd seen the news, with all of the shit going down at the Boston Heights. It wasn't any different than the same mess that happened back home. At least Marc wasn't here. The first time she'd been in prison, he came to talk with her on occasion, to try to get her to sober up. 

The thing is, Tuesday knew what she was doing. She didn't need anyone's pity. Glancing over at the knocking on the door, Tuesday walked over, opening it up fully only once she had spotted Ronnie. Clad in her undergarments, as she hadn't gotten dressed yet for the day, Tuesday's many tattoos would be visible. 

[color=ff6600]"Thanks, man,"[/color] Tuesday grinned, seeing the food. [color=ff6600]"You got the munchies already?"[/color]