As Grease neared the MoNH, he skidded to a stop, clumsily slamming into a car. He didn't want to use his powers noticeably when he got closer, in case the Syndicate had this place under surveillance. A bit paranoid, he pulled his hat down over his head, forcing the lid to cast a dark shadow, concealing his face, even though very few people actually knew his face. However, the news had reported about him, an inFamous asphalt conduit who wore a leather jacket and black hat. His clothes would probably give him away even more than his face. 

Disregarding that, he went through the process of acquiring entry into the museum, and began to search for anything overly suspicious. Nothing much, a few conduits were scattered around the blanks that milled aimlessly through the place. Grease took a moment to wonder if anyone actually enjoyed going to museums, or if they simply went to seem cultured. Grease sure as hell didn't get the point of it all.

Nothing actually stood out. He really didn't understand what kind of plan the Syndicate could have cooked up with this place. Their goal couldn't simply be to kill, could it? With the amount of conduits milling around, that plan would be grounded almost instantly. As he thought, tar subconsciously pooled beneath his feet.

-------------------------------------------------------

Pain grimaced, getting nowhere with sobering up Jen. He didn't have enough energy. Hell, he barley had enough dopamine in his own brain to keep himself from going completely numb. He grumbled to himself, before muttering something about conduits, apple juice, and the pope. He turned away from Jen, still muttering a bit under his breath. 

He did also take into his mind the fact that the Reapers had living space. It appeared that Scorn was on his side in this whole matter, and he might need a place to hide out. After all, he probably wouldn't be let back in his old hotel, not after the whole murder business... But now was not the time for that. Now, there was business to take care of. 

As he left 'The Cinder', he made his way to the nearest gas station, where he purchased another bottle of apple juice, which he chugged the contents of on the way to the MoNH. As he walked, schemes ran through his mind, nasty plots bouncing around in his head. He knew that he couldn't fully trust any of the conduits he had met today, so he had to be prepared. In the long run, he decided that he really wouldn't mind sacrificing any of those conduits to the Syndicate, to benefit himself. He chuckled at that notion, it brought a bit of joy to him.