[center][color=darkgray][b][h1]J O H N  D O Y L E[/h1][/b][/color][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZKC5TBydq4]♫♫♫[/url][/center][right][b][color=darkgray]
Downtown Charity, Charity Beach, Florida
Boardwalk[/color][/b][/right][hr]
Detective Rose was gone, sent packing with her tail tucked between her legs. John lowered himself back into his chair, a satisfied grin on his old, rocky face. It'd been a productive conversation- gave him a whole hell of a lot more to work with than he'd had previously. He knew Morgan didn't trust him, and he had the name of a place where Warmonger might'a gotten that case of his. Doyle plucked his notepad from his pocket, scribbling down a few more notes as he mulled it all over. He hadn't a clue what he could'a stolen at a research facility. Certainly wasn't money. First thought was something like plutonium or uranium- might'a been that the case was sealed to keep in the radiation. But what in the hell could a bank robber want with something like that? To sell it on the black market? Was it really worth the extra trouble?

[i]'Could be workin' for somebody...'[/i]

He made a note to start looking into criminal organizations active in Charity Beach. Start local and if he couldn't find any leads he could expand his range until he caught something. Wasn't gonna be fast, but these things never were. Might be worth trying to get a meeting with Aldrich...see if he'd be willing to talk. But...

[i]'Don't know how keen he'd be to spill his guts to the guy that made him a Cyclops. More likely to try spillin' mine.'[/i]

There was something about this whole thing that didn't sit right with John. He couldn't put his finger on it, but somethin' about the case just didn't add up. There was no way that case should'a gotten open on it's way back to Charity Beach. If the cops [i]did[/i] take it then why in the hell would they tell Doyle about it? Were they trying to frame him? That'd be ludicrous. 'Course, it spent most of its time in the care of federal agents- if they were the ones that took it then its contents were long, long gone and everything the sheriff was doing was a massive waste of his time.

And to make matters worse he was apparently bein' followed.

There'd be plenty of time later to stew on all'a this, and there wasn't much work to be done while he was sittin' here. Better to wait 'til tomorrow and enjoy the rest of the day. Normally for a shindig like this, he'd have his wife and daughter around. They'd enjoy it a hell of a lot more than he would, but he'd be happy seein' them havin' a ball. Marcus wouldn't wanna come- he'd stopped caring about going outside ever since his uncle bought him that Gamestation 600 or whatever it was called. John didn't understand it. He could barely sit still when he was his son's age. Spent every waking hour runnin' around the town and rollin' in the dirt and gettin' into trouble. Little too much trouble, to be fair; so maybe it wasn't all bad that Marcus liked that new age stuff.

Without Abi around to decide what to do he felt a little lost. There were a lotta people on the boardwalk. Plenty of, uh, activities set up 'round the place. But none of it really caught his eye. Most'a it looked like it'd been set up for families n' youngsters. An old man out here alone was a bit outta place. John decided to order somethin' he could eat on the go, figuring his chances of running into something interesting would increase if he wasn't just sittin' on his fat ass and chewing down on a taco stuffed with too many ingredients. Rising slow n' steady from the table he adjusted his shirt, making sure the badge on his belt wasn't stabbing him in his belly and that the holster inside his waisteband was still pretty well hidden.  

Then he was off, hopin' to God somethin' exciting would come his way.