[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]

	Oh, good. So Keystone's presence was noted by the syringe wielding psychopath down the hallway. Maybe noted a little too well. The extra piece of aggravation wasn't really the large man's intent, but if it kept the attention on [i]him[/i], all the better. Unfortunately, this woman appeared to have no regard for the girl in her grasp, as if any hostage taker might. Further, the American Federal Agent gave him a stern suggestion that it would be prudent to not fire upon the rampaging she-hulk. For the sake of the girl or because they needed answers from her; whatever the reason, he did in fact agree. The barest nanosecond of thought had him focused on the potential to end the situation - Keystone carried a Desert Eagle .50, a nasty piece of hardware. If he fired once, and that bullet caught any part of her skull, it would paint the wall behind her with half of her head long before her nerves would allow for the plunger of that syringe to depress. 

	That was a huge IF. Keystone was a competent shot, rated by Caesar's company. Competency did not make him one for trick shots, nor very comfortable shooting around hostages. So yeah, the Agent was right. It was not his place to make that decision. He was about to soften his dialogue and lower his weapon when he saw the door crack behind them, on the far side of the hall. He detected the barest hint of black leather and long, dark hair. Good. 

	New plan! He cleared his throat and forced a slightly more jolly tone to his voice. [color=b8860b]"Tutwiler, ey? I remember 'avin' me a few pints o' Tutwiler back in Jolly Old, y'see, with a plate o' fresh chips. Not great lager, but it ain't quite [i]scary[/i], lady."[/color] He was playing up his humble, Londoner origins, taking the role of the big, stupid muscle. People wanted to believe that about him a lot of the time, and so he obliged if he felt it was to his advantage.

	On the other end of the hallway and closer to the action, Caesar got a glimpse of what was going down. Momentary understanding of his employee's tactic came to him: He was acting the part of the Braying Jackass to buy time and keep Proserpine focused forward, so that someone like him could have a moment to act. But therein lay the problem. A needle in a girl's neck, hand on the plunger. Limited his options. If he had one of his machetes on him, it could be a simple matter of hacking the woman's elbow joint. Or a good slash across her inner forearm would disable that hand, surgery being a later option. Not that he cared if she regained the use of her hand, but he wanted answers. With the Feds on scene and local (read: corrupt) police supposedly coming this way, he wanted her to be able to answer some questions. Big questions, asked very painfully. 

	And if he was even a little off mark, what would happen to the girl? Used as a human shield, maybe? Or just killed outright for the purposes of lightening her load? Caesar didn't want any more loss of life. Wait, scratch that. Caesar [i]did[/i] want a loss of life. Hell, he was making a list like a murderous Santa Claus, ready to drop his blade over and over and over until it, he, and everything in the surrounding twenty feet was soaked in warm, red blood. But as far as he could tell, this kid was an innocent. It pained him to do so, but he was going to have to play it straight. Damn it. 

	Caesar tucked his knife into a concealed, underhand grip along his forearm and brought his .45 to the ready. He quietly nudged the door the rest of the way open with his foot and stepped through, then to the side. If shots were fired, he very much did not want to be caught in friendly bullet trajectory. As the door swung to a close, he stated in a calm, direct voice. 

	[color=orangered]"Your friends aren't coming."[/color] he started, gun leveled at the dangerous woman. [color=orangered]"It was a setup, puta. You've been sold out. And you know what [i]I'm[/i] willing to do. One professional to another: [i]Put it down[/i]."[/color]