[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://static1.sfd.pl/1/images2011/20110628171440.jpeg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Queensguard Industries R&D, Office 
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=b8860b][i]I am Keystone's sense of pant-shitting horror. I am not exercised enough, which is a shame considering how much he exercises everything else. The old boy has been shot at, threatened with castration while bound with rope, stabbed by his own father with the intent to do him murder, assailed by people and things commonly present in myth and nightmare. Still, I have rarely seen the light of day. It is humbling when a man of such bravery and physicality, such raw strength of personality (if lacking certain social graces) simply refuses to acknowledge my existence. But sometimes, just sometimes, a thing occurs that allows me a second or two of freedom.[/i][/color]

	When Keystone's cursor started acting of its own accord, he was a little startled. Perhaps he unknowingly had an elbow or something on the keyboard. So for s single, brief second Keystone took a simple accounting of his elbows. There were two of them. Both were accounted for, ergonomically placed along his arms between his wrists and shoulders, one to each arm. So, it wasn't that. There was nothing draped across his machine either, no scrap of paper or novelty desk items; drinking bird thingy or those suspended metal balls that go [i]clack clack clack[/i] (God he loved those things), so he could only figure that there was one logical explanation: 

	Demonic Possession. 

	The Nuns had warned him about thing like this. Not that he grew up in an orphanage or anything, it just seemed like people with religious backgrounds sought him out to make sure he felt guilty about himself or so that he wouldn't suddenly begin smoking crack and worshiping Satan. The Anglicans and Catholics alike, like some kind of a magnet. So yeah, his computer was apparently taken over by The Great Adversary himself: The First of the Fallen. The Spoiler of Virgins. The MASTER of Abortions! It was doing things in a manner most unholy, things which simply [i]could not be[/i] in a secure and loving world. The thing was sending him horrifying messages about... about... Wait, was that a clue?

	[i]Everything might be connected but not in the way you think. Stop focusing on the cups and start focusing on the sword.  
	The ides of March are upon you. 
	The debt is half settled. Finish it.[/i]

	Holy crap, that WAS a clue! Only he had no damn clue what the clue meant. Maybe Caesar or Maria or Thalia might. Ok, not Thalia, she got involved after even he did. Only one thing to do. Keystone attempted to message Caesar [i]yet again[/i], a simple preset text message about a meeting being moved up, like it was some sort of code. The big Londoner had no authority over the old man, though he really hoped that Caesar had an excuse for not getting back to him on what was probably very important matters. 

	Tentatively, even hesitatingly, Keystone set his phone down on his desk and typed in a return message: 

	[i][color=b8860b]New here. Who the arse are you? 
	Mayhap you can tell who needs a blade taken to 'em, and where I might do that. 
	Yeah, and it's almost bloody June.[/color][/i]

	






[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://media.giphy.com/media/wbomIbUs5Bc2I/giphy.gif[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Queensguard Industries R&D, Receiving -> En Route to Security Hub
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Ransom note, eh? Well, it's not like it was the first time he'd ever seen this happen. So very many people in his long and painful professional background were snatched away by the Cartels, or by rich, independent businessmen who thought that stepping on the regular, working asshole would be overlooked by the Powers That Be. Seeing as everyone he held dear was either dead or in the same building he was, Caesar was pretty sure that the letter didn't directly involve him. Intelligent but murderous eyes scanned the paper nonetheless, which led to his immediate surprise. Was someone trying to help them? 

	Well, if they were trying to help him, they were doing a piss-poor job of it. With both hands and a compass, Caesar had no idea what to do next. Perhaps if he had some other information he could use fir a comparison... It's quite possible that his latest protege might have done something other than let people get killed under his watch. Like, oh, he didn't know... some minor investigative work, perhaps? Well, there was one way to find out. Caesar turned on his heels and started back toward his offices, just as his phone vibrated once again. This time he checked it. A text from Keystone. No, this required a more direct approach. 

	Calling the big man directly, Caesar continued his stride down the hallway, studying the paper in his hand. When Keystone finally picked up, the older man leapt right into the conversation. [color=orangered]"Goddamnit, Keystone! Where have [i]you[/i] been this whole time? Strange things are going on, and you're what, back in the office? No, stay there! I'll be up in a minute. We have to compare some notes, and I think we might have to head back to the airport today. Yes, I mean it! I'll be right there!"[/color]