[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar[/color] & [color=darkgoldenrod]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img][/img][hr][b][color=dimgray]Location:[/color][/b] Grimm Indiana (Outside of El Asilo/The Nuthouse!)
[b][color=ff4500]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A 
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=b8860b]"What in rancid, scrote-stabbin' 'ell is this then?"[/color] came the defiantly issued words of the group's resident Londoner. Perhaps it typified the overall feelings of the others around him in such a way that, were they incapable of a more eloquent expression to that effect, could use as a small solace that someone understood their pain and confusion. Or to put it more plainly: It looked like the season had changed, and that was taxing Keystone's ability to process. Luckily, beyond his comprehensive skills, the big man did know how to take an order, even one passed along in a nonverbal manner as simple as shoving keys into his hand. This made sense. Big man takes keys, big man uses keys, big man drives away. But before this, big man questions certain life choices he might have made in his younger years that could have resulted in a flashback. [color=b8860b]"Rest o' you're seein' this too, yeah?"[/color] 

	Caesar, meanwhile, is doing a more remarkable job of keeping his shit together than his junior counterpart. His brain is taking in the new information and spinning it into a series of [i]"this is happenning"[/i] style circumstances, rather than debating with himself the wrongness of it all or succumbing to a horror of something that should not be. Perhaps there was a bit of a sociopath in him. Or perhaps his decades of seeing and causing so much carnage had left him with a psychological callous that allowed him to view spectacularly bad things with objectivity. 

	[color=ff4500]"C-4 is in Seattle. Chattanooga. Monterrey. Got small arms and cutters."[/color] In her bag, anyway. (To review:) He had placed two Glock 17s pistols, holsters, decent ammo, and a few sharp implements in case she got bored within. The back of the SUV contained the grab bag of standard and specialized equipstuff that Claire McManus had packed up for them, and Keystone still had his company duffel in the vehicle with a mix of martial gear and surveillance equipment. Of course, neither Caesar nor Keystone had any idea that they'd be running out of an abandoned asylum being chased by a giant Lovecraftian horror, or they sure as hell would have packed something a lot heavier. Lord knew Caesar had a collection. 

	[color=ff4500]"SUV over here,"[/color] said Caesar, motioning to the vehicle that he very wisely fishtailed around earlier so it could be pointing in a direction that made getting the hell out a bit easier. Keystone hit the remote doorlock button on his set of keys just as they were reaching the company vehicle, allowing for the speedier entry of persons into said vehicle. How many were coming with them again? Caesar supposed that it was a tiny detail that would, throughout the normal course of the exchange sort itself readily. Such a thought was echoed in the sound of the stairwell door exploding out of the side of the building. Despite it all, the fact that someone was highly concerned in this moment that Alicia might respond in a sarcastic manner was enough to raise an eyebrow in the older man. Did she not know who the hell Alicia was? Or barring that, was she keen on walking? Even Keystone, who up until this point was living very much "in the now" with his desire not to be eviscerated by forces [i]most unnatural[/i], managed to blurt out, [color=b8860b]"Aw, sounds like someone's wantin' ta 'oof it!"[/color] 

	Inside car, start car, [i]vroom[/i]. Time to motor. Leaving the scene.