[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar[/color] y [color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img][/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Justice Asylum [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=b8860b]"[i]Potter[/i] reference, oi?"[/color] remarked Keystone, nearing the fairly official looking man at the end of the corridor. He couldn't quite tell what the guy was pointing his gun at, being as whatever it was lay around a corner, but putting Two and the Square Root of Four together, he figured that this was the cause of the disturbance. The large man brought his massive pistol to bear as he stepped near the Federal Agent, the question briefly going through his mind about his level of trustworthiness, given the situation with these powerfully positioned women and the extent of their reach. [color=b8860b]"Keystone, MSS."[/color] he stated quietly to the Agent, not taking his eyes (or his gun) from the woman down the hallway. But there was no time to go into particulars. There was a hostage situation, and he felt the need to do something stupid. 

	Even from a distance, the massive silhouette of a Desert Eagle is notable. The soft but solid triangular shape of the barrel easily marked the weapon as one designed for making a mess, not taking a prisoner. [color=b8860b]"People're tryin' to bloody sleep in 'ere, ya manky bitchfist!"[/color] he blurted out with his Cockney accent leading his verbal charge. [color=b8860b]"I'm new 'ere, mayhap you can tell what the Bacon-wrapped 'ell you're on about?"[/color] He really hoped Caesar would get there soon. This was a little out of his expertise, unless she wanted get into a fistfight with the man. At least with Cecily nearby, he could provide her the cover of his broad frame, in case something unexpected popped up. Like if this woman suddenly acquired laser vision, or remembered that she really had a gun all along. 

	Meanwhile...

	Caesar easily located the pry marks on the security door and door to the stairwell beyond. He was really hoping for something less obvious. This felt like a trap, somehow. The again, he had lived this long amidst horrible surroundings and tons of carnage by thinking that exact thing. But if this was the lady that killed his daughter, and indeed was capable of doing such a thing to someone with her talents, then he could not afford to be any later to the party. No, Caesar was already on his way upstairs when his satellite phone vibrated, indicating that something was afoot a couple of floors above. 

	The venerable man drew his firearm and got a good blade at the ready. Hugging the wall, he quickly ascended the stairs, slowing to a quiet pace when he got withing a half flight of his intended door. From the noise on the other side, he surmised that he had found the right spot. That woman was on the other side of the door, but he wasn't certain how far away nor what the layout looked like. 

	Stealth was his friend. Usually, anyway. The practice of it kept him alive more times than he could count, but opening a blind door was still risky, even for an Veteran Mexican Ninja like himself. So, two options presented themselves: One, bust in there like the Kool-Aid Man. His sudden presence might distract the bad guys, giving the good guys their moment to move. Or, it could do the opposite of that, royally screwing people over. Two, he could crack the door as quietly as possible, counting on the tension inside to help cover his limited movement. It would give him a glimpse of the situation. Intel was everything. But he risked discovery; if he was in a bad tactical position, he might be revealed and that would be his ass. But it still might give the good guys a chance to move. 

	Then, he heard a loud voice, muted through the door. He couldn't quite tell what it was saying, but it was doing so in a stereotypical London lower-class accent. The man could draw attention. Caesar picked this moment to, as quietly as he could, crack the door open and have a look. Anything compromising, and he figured he could always go for Plan B: Shooting and Stabbing.