\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/Theres Silver In Your Lungs Now 4
Logs

Theres Silver In Your Lungs Now 4

Storyrunner:

Snowman

Starring:

Jerome?, Ozymandias

Thursday night at the pub. The place is rowdy, raucous with the after dinner crowd. The setting sun casts a hazy orange glow over the area, painting the clouds over the red brick city pink and purple. Jerome drives up to the pub alone, parking out front where there's space. Out here, he can tap into the security cameras in the pub, but he has to be able to find the hardware to tap in order to get in, and be able to do it discreetly. There's a few dock workers and girls in shredded jeans drinking beers and smoking cigarettes out front. Jerome can spot the lines running up the back of the building, which has a few employee cars parked near it and the entrance to the kitchen.

Jerome clucks his tongue quietly and pulls out his encrypted laptop and begins digging around to get a feel for what's going on inside the club and any notable files on prominent employees or regulars.

Jerome is going to have to get out of his car and physically get into the lines in order to tap the security cameras. He can, however, set up a fake wifi hotspot to try to get into any mobile devices inside without doing that.

The sun dips below the western horizon.

Jerome heads the wifi hotspot route, since he isn't very stealthy.

This is a lot like fishing. Jerome has to wait to get a nibble. A few people connect, but don't do anything of interest. He spots a few Candy Crush buys, some Foursquare reservations, some emails, and the chance to steal a few credit card numbers, but it looks like the big fish aren't here yet. How long does he want to wait?

Jerome doesn't appear to be going anywhere yet, for anybody that walks by and actually checks on him it'd appear he was checking email and playing Toribash off Steam, he clearly has no problem waiting yet.

A half an hour ticks by before he gets something of interest. It doesn't appear that those frequenting the bar are exceptionally interested in connecting to his hotspot, but he /does/ tap into an email which seems to imply some sort of deal for quicksilver is going on tonight in an hour or so. The email reads as follows: J, you'll be here, right? 9:30 for the silver. - A

Jerome clucks his tongue a few times and dips in to see if he can find anything of interest in that person's email.

Jerome also forwards this email to the number the Keeper's gave TJ, adding 'Jerome from the club, might have a lead on your friend.'

Ozymandias steps out of his Black Lifted 2003 Ford Expedition.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias slips a black smartphone into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Jerome clicks his tongue and taps away in his car.

(to Snowman) (Privately)Jerome is attempting a search for information on the owner of this number.

It's Thursday evening in South Boston. The place is loud, and the sun is setting, painting the world a dim orange glow. Jerome is seated more or less surreptitiously in his car outside the building. There's a group of what appear to be dock workers and their girlfriends smoking cigarettes and drinking out front.

There's no reverse lookup information available. It looks like a burner. You'll have to be more specific on how you're going about collecting the information if you want more.

Ozymandias pulls up outside of the bar, the sun going down in the distance lending some shade as the large black SUV pulls into the parking lot of the bar. The mans tongue toys at a cheek, even as he kills the engine. A low, heavy breath escapes him as eyes drift to the bar, settling on the doorway. It stays there for a bit as he shifts about in his seat, one hand reaching behind him and toying at the back of his pants. Then, with a shrug he pushes open his door, and slips out of the large vehicle, locking it behind him.

(to Snowman) (Privately)Jerome doesn't linger long on the subject, simply sitting back and waiting for a return email or more information from the hot-spot.

You spot Jerome hanging out in his car immediately. Maybe he's a familiar face from Haven, and maybe not. Either way, you can pretty much tell straight off as you walk by that he's doing something on his laptop, but you can't quite tell what. It's probably a little strange for someone to be parked out here this time of night.

... And doing that, that is.

You hear the door shut and Ozymandias walking by. There don't seem to be any return emails, which means either they've switched to texts, or the dealer (or dealee) isn't in the habit of returning emails. It could be either. Either way, you now have an expected time: 9:30 or maybe 9:45.

Ozymandias lets his eyes settle on the telltale computer glow of Jerome's face in that car for a few moments, brows furrowing just slightly, before he turns his own attention back to the front of the bar. Theres a shrug of broad shoulders, and he keeps walking, moving towards the group out front and looking from one to another as they chat amongst themselves. It's a quick observation, and then he's drifting towards whichever of them seems to be leading the conversation. "Uh, hey. Looking for a friend, I haven't seen her in a bit. Uh. Karen?" He asks, brows pulling up high as he questions them. "Seen her around lately?"

Jerome turns his attention to Ozymandias as he slips by and tucks the computer under his passenger seat before slipping out to follow behind Ozymandias.

The crowd out front falls silent at Ozymandias's approach. "Karen? Karen who?" asks one of the girls, giving her head a quick shake and following the question with a sucking drag off her cigarette. "Don't think I know a Karen," says another girl, also shaking her head and swigging some beer back. The men are silent.

Your sharp eyes won't miss that two of the men have gone tense and show the flickering tells of nervousness.

"Hey there." Jerome offers pleasantly when he steps up, looking over at Ozymandias. "I think you dropped this when you walked by." he offers, holding out a folded up piece of paper.

Ozymandias angles himself a bit sideways at Jerome's approach, not quite leaving his back to the man. He just stands there between the group and the other man, nodding is head with the girls replies. "Ah. Thanks anyway, ladies." He offers, eyes turning from them towards the silent men, seeming to settle on two of them then. His tongue draws out wetting his lips as his brows tug up a little higher. "Hey, uh. Either of you mind helping me real quick? Look big enough. Got a couple kegs to offload." He explains, jerking his head back towards the large black SUV behind him. "Could be a little money in it for ya."

Ozymandias pauses as Jerome speaks, and he extends a hand to him, giving the man a smile as he takes the paper. "Oh. Thanks, yeah." He says, looking down at the paper, before it gets stuffed into his back pocket, attention turning back to the group infront of him.

(to Ozymandias) (Privately)Jerome handed you a number. 779-5481

Jerome shifts a bit when Ozymandias speaks and nods. "Can help you and the guys out with that." he offers pleasantly, adjusting his coat a bit.

"We're good," says one of the men, in the typical South Bostonian speech that has the slight hint of a brogue. He looks to be in his early thirties and, while shorter than Ozymandias, probably has a good solid twenty pounds on him. His words have preempted the other man from taking the bait. "We're good on cash, man. Sure you've got it, right? With your friend there?"

Jerome clucks his tongue a bit as he looks between the men, "With my knee? It'll be slow going." he offers truthfully. "Sure you can spare five or ten minutes to help the man out? I'm not much for muscle, especially if he only has one dolly."

Ozymandias brows tug up at the mans denial. "Yeah? Alright." He decides, giving them a shrug as he looks aside, eyeing Jerome again. "Come on, me and you I suppose." He decides, turning and walking away at a slight angle, keeping the group out front in his peripheral as he heads back towards the large SUV, and away from them.

Ozymandias removes an iced americano and slips it into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Jerome shrugs a bit as he heads along with Ozymandias, and sure enough he does limp slightly on the right side.

The men are shaking their heads from behind the pair, and as soon as they turn for the car, melt away indoors. That can't be good. The women and the other guys, totaling five sans the pair, are still out front drinking, having gone back to their conversation without a care or even taking notice of their friends leaving.

"You shouldn't have asked about that.. Now they know my face." Jerome hisses quietly as the walk, not showing any emotion to the women behind him. "There is a quicksilver deal in thirteen minutes.. And now they know you're on to them, and I'll be watched too."

(Subtly)Jerome adjusts his coat once more, clearly checking a pistol kept there. "This isn't going to run smoothly know.. I hope the keepers show up soon, otherwise we're in deep shit."

Ozymandias steps along to the SUV, and he opens the backdoor, starting a slow humming rhythm as he reaches for a duffel bag there. He looks aside to Jerome, hands moving to start unbuttoning the mans own outer shirt as he stands next to the large SUV. "So. Hey. I'm Oz." He offers to him, brows raised. Inside the bag is an old police vest, and a baseball bat in it. He gives a shrug in response to Jerome's words, blowing out a quiet breath. "Maybe. I had just a teensy bit to work with." He explains. "You're who, and why are you here?" The man asks as he unstraps the vest, obviously preparing it for quick access.

"Jerome Lewis, ex-coretech." Jerome offers lightly, "Was here with rockfield bounties, tee-jay. We were supposed to be working tonight but I haven't heard from he." the man explains quickly, adjusting his suit a bit to check his armor before tugging his constriction coat off and tossing it in the back of the Ozymandias's suv and moving his pistol to the waist of his slacks and untucking his shirt so the weapon isn't obvious. "She's the one the keeper's are looking for, and if they're using her to produce quicksilver in there, we're in trouble. Even if she's not.. This is the hot seat of the Irish Mafia, if what I was told is correct."

Jerome removes a black sports coat and slips it into his black slacks pocket.

Ozymandias bobs his head along with someone' words, tongue wetting the mans lips. "That'd explain a fair bit." He decides, blowing out a quiet breath. "I work with Rockfield on occassion. Ozymandias Hawke." He offers, extending a hand towards someone. The pistol tucked into a concealed holster about his back isn't the most obvious thing, especially after he untucks his own tank top. "So. The idea was to see if she's in there? Or just follow a drug deal?" He asks of Jerome then, blowing out a quiet breath. He relaxes back from the vehicle, looking towards the building before leaning back in. "I figure if they're just buying here, we need to follow the sellers. Selling from here, we're probably where we wanna be." He explains, a low sigh escaping him as his chest deflates. "Mob or nutjobs. Great fifty-fifty odds of a shitty night."

Ozymandias nodded and extended his hand towards Jerome, if that wasn't obvious.

Your phone pings with an email from one Reggie Wilson of the Boston PD giving you the lowdown on Publicans, a little late in coming but better late than never. As Jerome says, it's a hotseat for an Irish Crime Family, the McLeary's. And yes, you definitely expect this will be shitty. If you want to get out of this alive, you need to identify your dealer and tail them ahead of time, inform the Boston PD and ask for backup (which you're extremely unlikely to get -- you know for sure that these guys definitely have some of the PD in their pockets), or get in and screw with the drug deal in a manner in which you can leave alive. There might be a few other options out there, too.

Jerome takes the hand offered, "I was the face of the situation.. Was going to arrange a pseudo drug deal to get information out of them. Since they didn't show I set up a false hot-spot to see what was going on in.. Was about to get into the security cameras." he explains hurriedly. "Anyway.. Ensure you're up on ammo.. Going to need it."

Ozymandias gives Jerome's hand a quick shake, his own phone beeping. The man reaches for it with his other hand, raising it to his face from his pocket. Theres a quick scanning, and then he's blowing out a low breath. Attention draws back over to Jerome then. "Uh. Yeah. If we need ammo, I think we'll be better off just jumping in the beast here. And running." He explains, "Place is damn near a base for the McLeary's." He explains, pushing the phone back into his pocket. "How we know theres a deal going down, and uh. We know which side is doing which?" He asks of Jerome, looking back to the man. Then, he's snagging that vest as he leans into the SUV. Theres a heavy, low sigh from him as he starts pulling it on, and covering it with his shirt afterwards. "I'm gonna look conspicuous." He decides. "And sweat like I'm in the Florida Swamps." He bitches, starting to work on the buttons as eyes drift back towards the front of the bar.

Ozymandias wears a silver watch.

OOC: I'll give you a four pose warning when the drug dealer gets here, you guys can go ahead and plan until then.

"We got the name Jimmy from the last club we hit." Jerome offers, going back over his gear and tucking his phone away after firing off a quick text. "As I said, set up a fake hotspot here, and somebody sent off an email talking about getting silver to the initial jay. No idea what he looks like.. But the bosses know we're here.. And those guys know something about Karen."

Ozymandias tongue toys over his teeth, speaking to Jerome still, voice quiet from that back end of the parking lot as night settles in about them. "Uh. If you can still set up the security camera shit, that'd be maybe handy. You can hop in the rig here to do it." He offers to Jerome, not looking away from the building as he speaks. "If we can avoid actually going in. Or them coming out to us. Well. I'd rather that. I'm allergic to lead, and they probably got military caliber." He drawls on, finishing buttoning up the shirt and raising a hand to scratch at his jaw. The man looks a bit bigger than before, but it's obviously a vest made to fit him, despite it actually reading "Police" on it. "Well. If that email came from here, then.. The Mob's dealing. And the Keepers want the shit." He decides. "Which means we're gonna wanna find out where, uh. Karen is. Since apparently she's making it? Or is that a guess?"

"Karen is one of them she, from what I gathered, and she was taken." Jerome explains lightly. "Whatever they're doing, it allows you to see shroud aura while not in Haven." he gives a brief wave of his hand, "And I need to manually get into the camera.. Which is kinda obvious."

You can access the lead from the outside of the building, it'll just be difficult and being stealthy would help.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'Just don't think it's worth getting into it.. Was already hard to get there without being noticed.. And now they know something is up'

Ozymandias"I'll agree with that. But. That leaves us a few options. Theres a chance where they'll have the deal is gonna be under surveillance." The man explains, tongue toying at a cheek as he looks back to the building again. "I can probably get in. Distract a few people. Get thrown out. If you think that'd let you have time to get into the cameras." He explains. "Or we've got the option of, uh. Trailing the deal as it goes down." He offers, blowing out a soft breath. "I'm expecting that to be a back room." He decides, pushing off the SUV then. "Done any walk arounds the place?" He asks of Jerome then, heavy brows raising.

"No, I got here and set up a hot-spot.. Only been here for about forty-minutes, and that was me snooping around for deal information." Jerome explains. "Guess I should try and get into the camera's." he agrees after a while, "If they try to stop it.. My weapon is silenced, but that's a sure way to get the cops here."

You guys don't think the cops are really in a hurry to show up to a place like this.

Jerome says, after a moment, 'At least a month after they've cleared out evidence... Actually, they probably pay the cops off.'

Ozymandias blows out a quiet chuckle, head shaking. "Hopefully, no need for a gun man. If you need to hard wire the camera's, that's cool. I'ma take a short walk around the place." He explains, blowing out a quiet breath as he moves to the passenger door. It's popped open, and he leans in, opening the glovebox to steal out a pack of cigarettes. They're settled into his shirts front pocket, along with a lighter. And then he's walking back towards the bar, angling to a side. A cigarette comes from the pack, and get's lit as the man walks, starting a small circle of the building.

Once Ozymandias has headed off Jerome moves to see about getting into the cameras, though he's not stealthy in the slightest.

"See if theres any exposed points, for, uh. Camera-ing." Ozymandias explains to Jerome before he starts off. "Don't, uh. Make a mess, alright?" He tries to say, and the man is somewhat nonchalant, and stealthy with his own little cigarette-walk prowl about the building. He even goes so far as to text a bit while he makes the circuit.

Ozymandias gets a black smartphone from his dark blue jeans pocket.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

The bar looks like a pretty typical pub. The place is built under two floors of what appear to be apartments or maybe upper offices, the bar itself taking up a good corner of the street. The building is red brick, with a dark wood facade, and you don't see any lights on upstairs, at least not from this side of the building. Wires encased in steel run up the back of the building near the entrance to the kitchen.

"I know what I'm doing." Jerome informs Ozymandias lightly before he heads off.

	Tapping into the security cameras will be child's play once you've gotten

connected to the line physically. The door to the back is open, but you don't see anyone out there for now. You expect it will take you about three minutes (OOC: three poses), so you'd better get cracking.

Ozymandias makes sure to check for any fire escapes, or similar exits/entry points to the place on his walk around the block, not dallying too much as the phone dissapears back into his pocket and he moves back towards his vehicle. The cigarette get's thrown to the parking lot, and ashed under a shoe as he tosses the pack back into the SUV. "Uh. Got some wires out back, I think. But it'd be a little loud to get at them. If you need to hardwire."

"Got it.. Just got get into it." Jerome offers before he gets to work (assuming he's at the line) getting into it.

You don't see the fire escape on this side, but you passed it when you drove in. It's on the opposite side of the building, dropping into a narrow alley between the pub and the pawn shop next door.

As for the ground level entrances: there's a back door leading in to the kitchen around back where Jerome is now attempting to affix a device to the steel-encased lines. In front, there's the main entrance.

Ozymandias notes Jerome's lack of being near the SUV, and goes back to the circuit when that occurs. Eyes track to the pawn shop next door, before going back to the bar. And Jerome. And theres a quiet breath from him. He moves back towards Jerome as well, staying quiet as he shifts along towards that kitchen doorway. He doesn't knock or anything, just loiters between it and Jerome at the line. He actually turns to face the wall, one hand dropping to unzip his pants as he tilts his head, seemingly preparing to take a piss on the wall.

Ozymandias"Uh. Say when you're done. I'll just sit and, uh. Awkward anyone coming out the back door. Until they go back inside." He drawls quietly towards the man beside him, eyes turning towards that kitchen doorway as he adjusts a few times, seeming to get comfortable in his urinal stance, despite a lack of urinals.

Ozymandias slips a black smartphone into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Jerome slips a silver flip phone into his black slacks pocket.

Your first minute is spent wrestling with the steel box protecting the wires. You spot the cracks in the case and manage to pry it off. Now you need to identify the correct wire.

Jerome clucks his tongue as he goes about checking wires until he finds the correct one.

The doorway is open, but you don't spot much movement back there for the moment. You do hear the sound of sharp knives on cutting boards and some raucous, probably stoned/drunk laughter. You suspect you'll have a good idea when someone is heading your way. Probably.

Ozymandias just relaxes back there, by that doorway. In his pre/post/during wiz stance. He actually shifts a bit, so that he's more or less ready to angle into the building if it seems appropriate. One hand drops to actually roll up the sleeves of his shirt a bit.

Ozymandias adjusts his clothes. Revealing that; A strong set of forearms are covered in the tail ends of a tattoo about the wrist.

Blue, green, yellow, pink. Aha. There it is. Cut that one and connect the dots to your little remote control toy/doodad inside. That will get you security camera access.

Jerome fixes up the wires so he can access the feed remotely from his laptop and closes the box back up, "Ready. Your ess-you-vee armored?" he calls over to Ozymandias while moving to retrieve his laptop from the car he was in.

The clock keeps ticking. For some reason, the hairs on the back of your neck raise slightly. You can't quite put your finger on why.

The clock keeps ticking. Ozymandias's watch tells him the drug dealer (or dealee, you aren't really sure which) will be showing up any minute now.

Jerome fixes up the wires so he can access the feed remotely from his laptop and closes the box back up, "Ready. Your ess-you-vee armored?" he calls over to Ozymandias while moving to retrieve his laptop from the car he was in.

Ozymandias relaxes back, looking over to Jerome and raising his brows. "Close to it. Plus. It'll drive over most anything." He admits, zipping up as he draws away from the wall, starting back around the corner to the front. "I, uh. Feel like that might come in handy." He admits, blowing out a quiet breath.

"Well, I'll have the feed up in a second, which means you can head in and I'll keep an eye open." Jerome offers, getting into the SUV.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'Have a frequency you want to communicate over?'

Ozymandias moves along, climbing into the large black SUV and looking aside to Jerome. "Frequency? Uh. Nah. If you know how to set that shit up, we can do that. And I can probably follow them in, and try to eavesdrop. Incase camera-ing fails or something." He offers, blowing out a quiet breath s dark eyes scan the parking lot.

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Wouldn't be surprised if they had cameras in the private areas of the club. Let's see what we can find.'

Ozymandias says, in a quiet, rough basso, 'Works for me, man.'

Ozymandias leans over, likely getting atleast a bit in Jerome's way as he props open that glovebox again. A clip is taken free from it, and stuffed into a pocket of his jeans before he slaps it closed again. Theres a low, quiet exhale of breath as he settles back into the drivers seat. Keys dangle in the ignition of the vehicle.

A dull green SUV pulls into the lot as Ozymandias and Jerome are sitting in their own SUV. It's well tended and expensive, though a few years old, which perhaps might imply the McLearys have fallen on hard times, or maybe it's just a wealthier patron of the pub. Ozymandias might be able to have someone run the license plate. Tep men in sharp suits, one a lean man in his late thirties with a pale complexion and a mop of brown hair, the other a large, muscular man with a thick neck and a similar complexion, hop out of the cars. The second one is driving. The first is carrying a silver briefcase.

Jerome pulls his laptop open and is able to crack his way into the security cameras. And, jackpot. This place obviously belongs to someone paranoid. There are cameras watching the bartenders, and the back office in the kitchen, which appear locked, the kitchen itself, as well as a stairway leading up to the upper floors. However, there aren't any cameras showing what's ac tually in the upper floors.

Jerome clucks his tongue a bit, "Got eyes on everything except the upper floor.. Which is where I'm sure the more important business happens."

Ozymandias doesn't peek at Jerome's laptop. He's instead busy looking to that license plate. And moving his phone into his lap again, where he's slapping away at the buttons, shooting off a couple texts giving the details of the SUV, and a broad description of the people that exitted it off towards a Reggie Wilson. "What we seeing?" He quaries the man next to him, eyes tracing after the men, and splitting off to look towards the pawn shop next door.

"Well. Yeah. That's, uh." Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath. "Theres a firewalk. I might be able to clamber up it." He explains then, tongue toying at his lips. "Call you. Say what I see. Hear. Uh. Got any microphones or anything?" He asks, looking to the compatriot in the car.

Ozymandias attention slips to his phone, then back to the man seated next to him, tapping out another few quick texts.

Ozymandias is seated in an SUV outside.

Ozymandias gets a black smartphone from his dark blue jeans pocket.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias slips a black smartphone into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Jerome wakes up.

Reggie gets back to you fairly quickly with the plates. The car is registered to one Jake O'Malley, cousin to the McLeary family and fitting the description of the leaner man who stepped out with the briefcase. He's bad news, warns Reggie in the text. The big guy is probably his favored muscle, Mitch.

"Bartenders. The kitchen. Stairways up top. Little bit of everything except the actual upstairs." Jerome replies thoughtfully, though the question has him looking over at Ozymandias, "Just the earpieces I had from working at coretech."

Jerome is laggy, one second

Jerome has lost his link.

So far, the security cameras show little of interest. You spot the pair who just walked inside meeting up with a stringy woman chewing some gum and pouring beers behind the bar. She jabs her thumb toward the stairs, and they head back there after exchanging nods with the cagey men Ozymandias tried to interview earlier. The men are sitting at the bar dourly.

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, watching them dissapear inside. Another look to his phone, and he's looking back over to Jerome. "Alright. Well. That's, uh. More Irish mob. And mob muscle." He explains, turning his attention back to the bar then. "I'm leaning towards fire escape climb right now. You got any better options?" He asks, starting to prop open his door. The dome light is turned off.

So far, the security cameras show little of interest. You spot the pair who just walked inside meeting up with a stringy woman chewing some gum and pouring beers behind the bar. She jabs her thumb toward the stairs, and they head back there after exchanging nods with the cagey men Ozymandias tried to interview earlier. The men are sitting at the bar dourly.

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, watching them dissapear inside. Another look to his phone, and he's looking back over to Jerome. "Alright. Well. That's, uh. More Irish mob. And mob muscle." He explains, turning his attention back to the bar then. "I'm leaning towards fire escape climb right now. You got any better options?" He asks, starting to prop open his door. The dome light is turned off.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'None. But be ready to shoot.. Hopefully you're silenced.'

Your phone beeps again. The next text warns you that Jake O'Malley once ran a huge drug ring in Boston with the McLearys, rivaling Desmond King's grip on the place in the past, but fell from grace about ten years ago. All the McLearys have a bone to pick with King's faction but have mostly been laying low and sticking to what business they can get.

"Nah. That's illegal." Ozymandias explains, slipping out of the driver seat to look back to Jerome then. "I'll give you a call once I start climbing. Relay what I see. Keep an eye out for the next group arriving. This is, uh. Half of it, I think." He explains. "And if you hear gunshots. Keys are in the ignition. Pull up under the fire escape like fucking Hi-Hoe Silver, cool?" He explains, brows waggling as he raises his phone up again, frowning at it. "Might be, a, uh, Coup attempt." He explains, before's walking around to the pawn shop alleyway, looking for a way to hop from ground-level to Fire escape. So any dumpsters, trash cans, or anything to give that initial push off.

Jerome shakes his head a bit, "Was a professional gunman before I got with coretech.. Heists." he explains as Ozymandias is getting out, "Don't care much for legal issues."

Jerome slides over to the drivers side and turns his laptop so he can keep an eye on the club and the cameras.

The sun is setting, and twilight is dropping visibility. That's probably good news for anyone trying to sneak up the fire escape and/or avoid getting shot.

Jerome tugs his gun out and rests it on his lap, keeping an eye on the cameras.

(Subtly)Ozymandias snowman is trying to climb up that fire stairway towards the second floor. Sneakily. Wasn't sure if it was allowed or not from that position.

Ozymandias tugs himself up onto that fire-escape with a bit of fancy footwork to get the initial jump. A garbage can, a wall, a lucky grab. It likely only took a few tries. And once up there he's blowing out a heavy breath, pulling his phone from his pocket as he starts approaching the windows there, trying to peek through as fingers work on his phone, sending a few texts before he calls up Jerome.

Ozymandias finds that the fire escape is old and creaky. He'll have to be careful going up it in order to not be noticed. He's probably moving a little slower than a walk. On the plus side, his jump up didn't make that much noise. Meanwhile, Jerome can see that the two men have headed up the stairs, unlocked the door and stepped in, though he couldn't see what was behind it.

Ozymandias seems a little antsy as he looks to his phone, before it's up to his ears. Theres a rushed, low breath coming to it then. "Uh. Hey. Jerome? On the escape. Gotta kinda. Creep. Where's everyone at?" He asks, voice a whisper.

Ozymandias tries to avoid standing directly infront of any windows as he says that, his back finding a gap in them to press against as he crouches a bit, peeking into the building if he can manage it through any curtains/blinds out there.

Jerome tugs his phone out to answer it, "Just went into one of the upstairs rooms, I'll keep an eye out for anybody heading in." he replies quietly. "Remember.. We have at least one keeper inbound too, and they give no fucks about the law."

Jerome gets a silver flip phone from his black slacks pocket.

Ozymandias actually chuckles quietly into the phone at Jerome's words. "No one around here gives any fucks about the law except me, man. If I can't see anything from here, I'ma have to go in. I've got a view of.. Roughly almost none of the fucking building. So yeah." He explains, crouching then. His other hand reaches down, fingers starting to toy and tug at the bottom of the windows, testing both of them for being locked. "Jason Bourne I'm not." He complains into the phone, a quiet creak coming from under his feet as he shifts about.

"Nothing wrong with an occasional death." Jerome argues lightly into the phone, "Especially when it's kill or be killed."

The lights flip on in one of the windows, and the blinds are only partially closed. You can squint in to see. When you do, you see two men facing the window, and the back of an armchair. You can't see who is sitting in the armchair. Lights inside and darkness outside means you might be able to peek in on them for awhile, but you don't know if it's a great idea. These guys probably wouldn't be very nice to you if they caught you. The window is locked. The next one over might not be. It goes into a different room, judging by the darkness inside.

The glowering dock workers from earlier swig back the rest of their beers on the camera. They seem to be keeping an eye on the back door.

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, not bothering to speak as the lights flip on. He very slowly scoots over to the next window, reaching to work at prying at it, testing it's openability. "I do not want to go up another flight on these rickity fucking steps." The man mutters, though it's volume is closer to a whisper. Jerome may even pick it up over the phone. He teeters out there a bit unevenly, holding that phone to his ear, and watching the window next to him for moving shadows/silhouettes.

"Dock workers from earlier are watching the back door. Probably for us.. But maybe not." Jerome fills in the man over the phone.

The window is sticky, but moves after a moment. You might have to jimmy it a bit to get it open enough to sneak in. You don't see anyone moving, at least not from your angle.

Ozymandias takes a deep breath, and he settles the phone in his hand. He glares at it, like the window that's giving the man trouble is somehow it's fault. Then, fingers run across it, before he brings it to his head again. "Alright, uh. I'ma try to get in. Through a window. Listen in. Think theres a meet already going down. I'ma be real quiet. Relay what I hear to you as quiet as I can when I think it's safe to breath, alright?" He explains, before the phone is set by his feet. And two hands are used, one at each side, to slowly inch and shimmy that window up.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, (phone) 'Alright.'

The door creaks up for Ozymandias without a problem at all. And he's able to creep in, too. The room is dark and takes a moment to adjust to. There is a door on the far side of the room, probably leading back to a hallway. This room looks to be an office. There is a desk, office chair, two armchairs, a couch and a television, as well as some cabinets. The murmuring is inaudible from where he is, but he might be able to hear them if he presses his ear to the wall.

Ozymandias skulks in, and once in, he's snagging that phone. It's brought back to his ear, voice quiet as he shifts aside, hiding from the light coming through the window as he shifts towards a wall, not pressed to it yet. "Alright. I'm in." He huffs into the phone, pressing an ear to the wall. The phone moves from his ear for a mooment, and he just flat out glares at it, before he snags a finger onto the brightness setting, turning that bitch almost all the way down. Fingers draw over it again, a rapid text, and he's ear to the wall. "Three people, last I saw." He comments to it then, voice quiet, even. "Our two friends I think. Plus one I didn't see."

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Jerome just nods a bit and keeps his eyes on the laptop for now.

(Subtly)Ozymandias wasn't all that tense until when he started climbing the fire escape. And handling those texts. Since then, the mans seeming a bit more on edge, muscles taut, and brows tugged down tight. His lips keep forming into a mantra of, "Fuck the mob. Fuck the mob. Fuck the mob." Though no words escape him for Jerome to hear.

You can hear the volume of the murmuring increase as you creep close. Once your ear is to the wall, you can hear snatches of the conversation, as well as-- footsteps? It sounds like someone is walking the hallway outside, pacing in even, heavy steps up and down it. The conversation is this: "--breaking her down for parts, aren't you? This is a bad business, especially if you're going to run out soon. How much more can you push?" The voice is feminine and low, greased with cigarettes, with a faint Irish brogue. "I'll buy the case, but when you run out, things're gonna get messy. I hope you've got a backup plan." A male voice responds, saying, "You let us worry about that, Angie. Ten large for the case. You know the deal, nowhere near the docks, okay?"

Your screen flickers. You feel a little like you're being watched, for some reason, though you can't see anything. The green SUV stays parked where it is out of the corner of your eye, but nonetheless something has the hairs of your neck raising a little bit.

Ozymandias brows tug in a bit tighter as he holds himself there, against the wall. He angles the phone to his lips, voice barely audible to himself, though hopefully Jerome has his volume up high. "Two guys. Talking to an Angie. We know Angie?" He asks, shifting further along that wall. He keeps his ear to it, but tries to skulk along, eyes watching his steps towards the door to the hallway, slipping into a corner next to it, and against that wall as he tries to listen in.

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, (phone) 'She's the buyer. I feel like I'm being watched, we might be in for some trouble soon.'

Ozymandias blows out a breath along with Jerome's words. "Turn the key. Drive real slow around the block. Turn down the alleyway, and stop outside the fire escape. Then hit the horn, and change seats. Real slow, man." He explains, reaching a hand for that door into the hallway. He pauses at it, waiting to hear the steps retreating from her before he tries to open it, and peek out at the man in there to see if he recognizes him, before ducking back in.

The footsteps become louder as you shift down to the end of the wall. The door is within a foot of you now. "You know I don't let our boys deal to our people," says Angie's voice, it having gone cold. "Cutting into King's business is all well and good, except when you run out. Then what? We'll be back to square one. Jake, you gotta let me know what's going on in that head of yours."

Ozymandias joins the upper floor.

The two dock workers at the bar are talking to a third man now. After a short conversation, the third man walks back out front and joins the group still getting drunk out front.

Ozymandias hand pauses on that door, the man not fighting to move it. He just stays there, breathing quiet with the phone to his ear. He looks back to that window, keeping eyes there, and starting to gauge the best path back out as he shifts about to face it instead, presenting ear to wall again.

Ozymandias slips a black smartphone into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Ozymandias still has the phone to his ear, IC'ly. He even whispers into it, voice barely audible still. "Everyone alright out there, Jerome?"

"Angie, it's not going to be a problem," says Jake, and something murmured low that's too hard to hear through the wall, especially while you're speaking into the phone, even for that brief moment. "We're figuring it out. We're gonna take that bastard down. This the money?"

Jerome turns the key and heads over to the fire escape like Ozymandias instructed. "Everything alright up there?"

You spot the third man's eyes following you car as you pull into the alley under the fire escape. He makes to follow you.

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, hushed voice quick. "Yeah. On my way out. Try not to get too much attention. If anyones following, just circle around the place." He explains, the man starting back to the window in a slow, methodical skulk.

Jerome continues on around and turns around so he's facing towards where the man following will have to turn in at.

Clarification, please?

Jerome rolls the window down and gets a firm grip on his silent weapon.

You hear some glass shatter from down the hall, and a short silence afterwards. Then it sounds like the heavy footsteps have rushed toward someone. A woman, not Angie, is crying, "Give it to me! I know you have some in there!" This appears to be all the distraction you'll need to get out-- they probably won't be searching the room until that situation is handled. You spot a paper ledger tucked under the papers sprawled across the desk-- it might be worth taking with you.

The man has slipped around the corner while you circled around the building. You were going at a slow enough pace that it didn't raise too many suspicions, but it looks like the man is now lingering under the fire escape.

Ozymandias snags something from in that room, stuffing it into the back of his pants as he squirms out the room and onto the fire escape. A bit slower movements lead him to clambering over the edge of the escape, and then dropping, tucking and rolling with the fall to street level. Eyes search up and down the alleyway after that.

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, (phone) 'Damn it, there's a guy shadowing us out there.'

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, (phone) 'The guy on foot under the fire escape? Break his face and circle around so you can get in.'

Ozymandias may not have just simply dropped down, if there was someone under the fire escape.

Jerome turns and heads for the fire escape with the passenger window rolled down.

You spot the man Jerome is talking about looking up and down the alley suspiciously. You can repose if you need to.

Ozymandias pauses above the man on the fire escape, looking down, then to Jerome. His voice is still low as he speaks into the cellphone. "Nah. Rev a few times. And drive at him. See if you can't bullrush him down the alley a bit. And not see me drop down."

Jerome would stop near the man if he doesn't head out.

Pose your driving?

Jerome rolls both windows down and hangs the phone in his hand up and tucks it away, replacing it with the pistol in his lap. He heads around the corner near where the man shadowing him is, and if he doesn't run away he parks besides him.

Ozymandias watches what's happening below. Is there still a person below him?

Ozymandias leaves his place.

The man does run, but only a few yards down the alley until Jerome stops, unless Jerome doesn't stop. He doesn't turn the corner, instead reaching into the back of his pants, probably for a gun or a phone. One is probably as bad as the other in this case.

Ozymandias drops off the fire escape as the man starts running. Or more, leaps. He just tries to turn that man into his own personal landing zone.

If Ozymandias misses the running man, Jerome sticks his arm out of the suv to fire off a few silenced shots at the fleeing man.

Ozymandias misses the man as his landing pad (let's be fair, an upright guy is a pretty small target), but rolls off and manages to clamber into the car as Jerome fires and lands a shot solid enough to drop the man before he can pull his gun out. The noise of it, silenced or not, is still audible but doesn't draw as much attention as it would without the silencer. The man might still be alive, but he's definitely no longer in shape to be firing back.

Jerome steps out of the car and moves to drag the man into a less open spot.

Ozymandias doesn't just climb into his car. Someones been shot. And Jerome's dragging is aided, if his attempt to drag the man is into the back of that black SUV. Oz does try to make sure he pulls the mans gun away first, before loading the man with a GSW into the back.

The alley has a few things obstacles that can hide the man. He's still breathing, though, once Jerome and Ozymandias get close enough to discern it. He has his phone in his hand, bloody, but it doesn't look like he managed to get a text off.

Jerome takes the phone away and makes sure before he assists in loading the man in the back of the suv, and getting in with him.

Ozymandias would try to snag that phone then, and check for a weapon as he tries to load him into the SUV. "Okay. Well. Yeah. You fucking shot someone." The big man accuses, words dead and plain faced as he works fast, trying to load him up.

Looks like Jerome beats Ozymandias to the phone.

Ozymandias moves about to the drivers side after Jerome climbs in. And rather than sit around and do anything else, he's speeding along through the docks, heading towards the nearest hospital.

"Shot or be shot, mi amico." Jerome replies firmly. "And you were a damn good target falling off the fire escape like that."

Jerome doesn't seem concerned with getting the man to safety as much, because once he's back in he looks down at him, "Alright.. quicksilver. Tell me what you know." he asks pleasantly while checking texts.

Are you planning on staying at the hospital with the man? He has friends, and a gun shot wound will definitely bring the police, even if they wouldn't come to the bar.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'Take your time.. Can't unload him until we get a few answers.'

The man is breathing hard and seems to be in shock. He doesn't really answer Jerome.

Jerome clucks his tongue a few times, "Alright, he's dying. Hurry up."

Ozymandias"Maybe. Maybe not. But. Now we get to fucking leave without trailing the people we want. Because someone got shot." He explains, voice deadpan and even. It's a practiced calm over Ozymandias really, as he drives faster than most ambulances, familiar wtih his vehicle. "Uh. Pass. He's gonna die otherwise. Rolling him out in the emergency bay."

Ozymandias"The phone, uh. Say anything?" He asks, checking that rearview mirror as he goes, likely tearing out of the docks area entirely. "Because we really need to know where Jake's operating out of. He's the supplier."

"Don't have to.. Sound like order right now." Jerome accuses. "So what, a mob lackey got shot. Happens daily.. Short life expectancy."

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Checking the phone.'

The hospital is about a fifteen minute drive away. This time of night, the streets of the city aren't that crowded, and Ozymandias is an expert at navigating traffic, so they will actually make it there in about ten minutes. The man will be fine. Well, probably. His bleeding out in the back of the car would be bad for everyone. It might be better if someone put pressure on the wound.

Jerome sighs a bit and rolls up his sleeves to apply pressure to the bleeding man.

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Not often I have to save the guys I shoot.. Wouldn't shoot them if this was a regular thing.'

You don't get a location on the phone, and it doesn't look like he was directly in touch with his bosses. You do, however, see some texts that must have been exchanged with the other two men at the bar earlier. "Get down to Publicans," says one. "Right now. Need an extra eye out for trouble." It's hard to read with the car rumbling along like it is, and with your other hand on top of the spurting wound.

Ozymandias keeps on driving, his pace going a bit faster. "Yeah. Well. You work with me and Rockfield, you get used to it. We're on the law side of the law." He explains, tongue toying at his cheek. "Generally, you don't fucking shoot unless you want someone dead. And if you want someone dead, it's something you can explain to the cops." The big man explains, throwing that massive vehicle around corners like it's a normal way of driving, cutting corners here and hogging both lanes there. He actually takes a sip from a coffee cup during it on a straight stretch, which might indicate this is somewhere near his normal driving style.

Jerome tucks the phone away, "No go there." he lets the man know, ensuring the mobile is out of reach of the dying man. "I don't work the law side of the wall unless it's for a decent cause.. And a man stalking you and pulling a gun is a reasonable explanation."

Jerome says, to the bleeding man, 'Need to find a new job.. Next time it'll be your knees. Or that pretty face of yours.'

Ozymandias"Can you, uh. Download his phone or some shit?" He asks, eyes tugging to the laptop being swaddled around in the passenger seat. "Knees." Ozymandias chimes in from the front seat. "I like the knees." A bloodstained baseball bat rattles around near the back as well, maybe just to attest to that fact.

You don't see any police cars around as you drive down to the hospital, or any other cars that appear to be tailing you, at least not for now. Things look just fine so far. You haven't heard from any of the so-called hourglasses, but maybe there will be some information you can get more directly from Reggie or the bounty office. The hospital is now about five minutes away at your driving rate. You can see the building looming over the others a few blocks down.

"I like teeth." Jerome replies casually. "And nothing to download.. Sounds like he was under the guys you asked about Karen."

It's a bit early to say that about the phone. You might find something if you take some time to look when you have both hands available. Strangely, none of the Keepers have gotten back to you at this point. Perhaps they don't answer texts from strange numbers. Possibly, something else is going on.

Jerome sighs.

The man gives a choking cough, and more blood trickles from his wound through Jerome's hand and onto the upholstery of the backseat.

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'I'll check it over after we kick him out the back.'

It might be worth searching him to see what else he has on him.

With one hand free Jerome starts to patting down the bleeding man, doing his best to stop the flow enough for him to not die. And, he thinks they have him in the back back behind the seats, but he isn't certain.

Jerome removes a kimber warrior and slips it into his black slacks pocket.

Jerome slips a silver flip phone into his black slacks pocket.

"Well. That fucking sucks." Ozymandias decides, and the pedal gets put to the floor in stretches now, the big block under the hood roaring with the driving. "I'll make a call to the office. Ask a few questions. One to Reggie. Some there. See if they know where Jake hangs." The big man offers as they go. "Look over the scraps I picked up. And maybe we'll get lucky." He bitches. At the sound of coughing he tries to urge them on a bit faster, totally disregarding speed limits in most places, and all traffic laws really. He doesn't even stop as they get to the hospital, though he does pop open the back and slow a bit as they pass through the emergency bay. "Kick him out." He offers to the back at that point, slamming his hand onto the horn. The man is in the far-back. Which is why the far back gets popped open by Ozymandias.

Ozymandias car is average. And massive. Which makes it being average an accomplishment.

Jerome grabs the man's wallet and gun before he dumps him, not having much time to find anything else. The coughing man makes a thump as he lands on the concrete, possibly breaking a bone or two in the process. Then the car is peeling back out of the emergency bay.

Where to next?

"Got a gun and a wallet." Jerome replies before climbing back over the seats to where his laptop was. Then he's going back over the texts on the now dumped man's phone.

Ozymandias drives out past the hospital, getting atleast a few blocks out as he peeks into the back seat, and slows down. "Get up here. And, uh. Read this." He explains, pulling the ledger from behind him. He's tumbling almost aimlessly through the streets now, no particular direction, though he stays in the south side of Boston.

There are coffee shops and gas stations galore out here, and a few places Ozymandias might be able to just pull over if he wants to take a look at things himself. Jerome's laptop is still in the front seat, though it no longer has access to the security feed due to lack of wifi.

Jerome closes the laptop and places it in his, well, lap. "Alright." he offers tiredly and begins reading through things and checking wallets and phones.

Ozymandias does keep driving. All the way to a small run-down hotel-motel that likely often houses street walkers. And he sets that ledger onto his lap. Upside. It advertises wifi. He just leaves the vehicle running as he settles in there. Eyes track from the ledger, to his phone. And then he's cussing as he's texting on it.

Ozymandias gets a black smartphone from his dark blue jeans pocket.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias brows tug in, and he just shoves that ledger towards Jerome, as he raises the phone to his ear. "I hate the mob." He informs the man as he makes a phone call.

"Hate the mob, templars, and keepers. The order too most the time." Jerome offers lightly as he shifts through the things in his lap.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Now that you have a moment to look through the phone, you find that this guy was probably a low level dealer working for Angie. He didn't /look/ much like a clubber, but he was pretty clean shaven and nice smelling for a dock worker, minus the blood, and his jeans were pretty expensive. Before you put a shot through them, anyway. Definitely slumming it or making a little cash on the side of his blue collar paycheck. You see several texts asking him where he is, if they can score a baggie (half crowns and crowns seem to be popular ways of referring to the drug, along with glitter, sparkle and silver).

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Alright.. He was a low level dealer. Should have put it in his heart.. This shit is addictive.'

Ozymandias sets that phone down, blowing out a quiet breath. He turns his attention back to Jerome, already having looked at the ledger himself. He's bringing the phone to his ear, and calling Reggie instead now. "Fuck the mob, man. A lot of it the past two days. And I might have to go try and break ones kneecaps still." He explains, tongue toying at his cheek as he waits for the policeman to answer.

The ledger contains rows of, surprise surprise, numbers. It looks like Ozymandias made off with one of the mob's books. They're going to be looking for that. A quick flip through the book eventually brings you to some notes on the drug, specifically how much they're making off it (it looks to be a fairly sizeable sum), what they're spending the ill gotten gains on (looks like guns, a lot of guns), and, most interestingly, the properties they're being pushed to. It looks like the stuff is being peddled in all of Boston's major clubs.

"Ways of making them talk.. You learn that when you sling dope." Jerome replies with a shrug. "Had a blow problem back when I had the money for it.. Started off selling it between robberies." he offers vaguely with a roll of his hand, "Then I got hooked.. And I got sloppy. Now I'm broke for the most part."

The phone rings almost long enough to go to voicemail, before you hear Reggie's voice on the phone. "Yeah?" asks the man, sounding like he's had a beer or two, as well as a rough night.

Jerome tugs his phone out and takes a picture of the more important pages before sending it to the keeper number, which he's still waiting for a reply from. "Think something happened to the keepers."

Ozymandias brows tug up at Jerome's words, looking over at him. "Yeah? How addictive we talking." He asks, eyes drawing down to the ledger then. "And that, uh. Got any info on O'Malley's shit?" He asks, before his attention turns to the phone then. "Hey. Reg. You got an Irish Mobster down in the hospital by the Docs." The man begins to the phone, blowing out a quiet breath. "It's Oz Hawke. Uh. He had a bad drug deal. Anyway. You think you can lemme know where Jake O'Malley's been hanging recently?"

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'Think pee-cee-pee.'

"He's been all over, man," says Reggie's voice into the phone, chewing around something, probably a late night snack. "All over in Boston. Me, I'm starting to think he's trying to pick a fight with King, which is just /great/." No sarcasm lost there. "Between King and the McLearys and whatever's going on upstairs, we got a helluva mess on our hands, Hawke. Anyway, as far's I can tell, and it's been rough trying to get any info about Jake O'Malley lately, looks like he's been trying to get back in on the club scene. Calling in old favors, making new friends, that sort of thing. King's boys are all riled up about it."

You still get no response from the Keeper phone. That might be odd.

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, nodding his head as he listens to the phone. "Yeah, man. Getting that. Uh. Any club in particular he's got a real interest in? I don't really wanna be calling King's boys up. But I need to find the guy's place of business, ya get me?" He explains, "Maybe save you guys a bit of work if we can. Hell. A lot of work. Cuz they're definately trying to pick a fight. And it's already getting ugly man." He explains to the phone, eyes tracking over to the man seated behind him.

Jerome runs a hand through his hair as he closes everything back up and leans his head back against the rest. "Going to be a long night.. And I'm going to have to kill this guy for all the trouble." he grumbles to himself, out of earshot from the policeman.

"Yeah? So the McLearys are trying to push the silver?" Reggie asks, sounding tired. "Well, I guess I should't say trying. They're doing a damned good job about it. Three ODs in the past week. No one cares about these kids, they're ravers, people with records, people with drug abuse problems. But they're dying and going crazy while they're at it." Reggie's in the know about all the supernatural stuff, or most of it, anyway. "So what do you need from me?"

"I got a little stake in it myself, Reg. Yeah. I need to know where he's operating out of. They're pushing it. And I think they're making it. And I think about to kill someone to do it." Ozymandias explains to the phone. "Want to stop 'em. Drug bust. Probably going to be the ugly sort, where you can only report half the truth, ya know what I mean man?" He explains with a quiet sigh. "So, yeah. Fuckin' need to know where Jake's working out of. They're selling it to Angie. I wanted to just track 'em tonight but lost the chance. If you can't tell me, throw me one of King's lieutenants numbers. Pretty sure they'd be happy to deal. Less work for us, right?"

Ozymandias attention drifts back to the man next to him, big brows lifting at his words as he shields the phone from his mouth to speak. "Uh. Which person's that?"

"Whoever started slinging it." Jerome replies quietly

"I wish I knew, Hawke," says Reggie's voice into the phone. "I've been looking into it myself. Best I can give you is, you know the McLearys got a big stake in the docks. Pretty much the only place in town they still got a leg up on King and us. So I'd check out the industrial yard they've got by the docks, you know. Uh, what is it. Greenyard. That's it. It's big, though. You might need to take someone in, ask 'em some questions, 'less you want to end up in a bad situation."

After two or three flips through the ledger, you eventually spot a page where there is nothing but a three digit number. 615. It doesn't seem to refer to anything, and is too small a number to be cash.

Ozymandias nods his head along with Jerome's words, looking back over to the man. "Hey. Think you can track down any recent property purchases by Jake O'Malley?" He asks of the man seated next to him, jerking his head towards the Wifi sign on the motel vacancy sign nearby. "If not. Well. I'ma race back towards the docks. And hope we see him driving out."

"Hold up." Jerome offers as he turns his attention back to the ledger. "The number six-one-five mean anything?"

Ozymandias brows raise up high, looking over to Jerome at that. "Uh. Nah. Just six one five?" He asks, leaning towards the ledger. Then, relaying it to his phone. "Reg. Six one five mean anything to you? Got it in a, uh. Ledger here."

"I dunno, man," says Reggie's voice into the phone. "Not off the top of my head. Could mean anything. Sorry. Listen, I'll go check out your boy in the hospital, ask a few questions, see if I find anything. Anything else I can do for you?"

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Might be an address or something.'

Ozymandias"Alright, man. Thanks. Probably have his friends showing up soon. Might want to bring some uni's." He offers, hanging up as he looks over to Jerome, nodding his head. "Yeah, man. Look it up. Uh. Where was it?" He asks, nodding to the ledger, and trying to find the lines with that number.

Jerome passes the ledger over before he leans back once more, "Going to grab a quick nap before we head in." he offers. "Do your thing."

"You suck." is Ozymandias' response, taking the ledger in one hand, his phone in the other. And he's browsing through Boston real estate with that number as he scans the ledger. And occassionally works off a text, sending a few photos to the Rockfield office as well of that ledger.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias sends off a few other-mob related texts while he browses through that ledger, and tries to search for 615 related properties on the internet.

Flipping through the ledger, you eventually find the number. It's sitting and looking very lonely on its page near the end of the ledger, with nothing else written on it. It's written in pencil, very lightly in near handwriting, making it easy to miss. The rest of the ledger seems to contain the McLearys books, or at least some of them, possibly for one district. It looks like the quicksilver profits have sent them buying things in shorthand that you would probably recognize as guns.

Ozymandias cross runs that number with properties. And docks next, if that fails. He's just sitting in that black SUV, trying to puzzle things out and glaring at his phone.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Boston is a pretty big town. You find a frustratingly large amount of properties numbered 615 in town and just outside it. None of them are registered to any Jake O'Malley, though a pair of them are registered to surnames McLeary. The docks, however, are numbered by blocks, which seems to be a manner of which the industrial yard organizes itself. And one of them is certainly 615.

Ozymandias brows narrow as he peers at that sign. And then theres a quiet chuckle. A hand reaches out, trying to snag at Jerome's shoulder and shake the man to wakefulness. "Hey. Man. Wake up. We're uh. Gonna go peek at a hornets nest." He explains to him with a slow breath, fingers running over the phone yet again.

Jerome stirs and nods at Ozymandias. "Alright.. I'm gonna kick it." he offers tiredly.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias looks back aside to Jerome at those words, brows raising high. "Kick it as in. Sleep. Or get stung?" He asks, even as he turns the car into motion, and they start heading down towards the docks. "Pull up your GPS. Find me the six-one-five block on the docks. We need to get there."

Ozymandias driving is unusually sedate for the man. Almost like a normal person, though he does text and drive. He however obeys the speedlimits and street signs as they rumble along now, trying to draw little attention in the already somewhat attention-drawing vehicle.

"Probably get stung." Jerome replies as he goes about finding the specified block.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

The docks are about a twenty minute drive from your current location, twenty five obeying all the traffic laws. Jerome takes a minute to turn up the place, but does as the pair slowly narrows the gap between their location and the port nearby. Large ships and dark ocean glimmer through breaks in the cityscape, and the smell of fish, salt and city starts to seep into the car. The industrial yard isn't too far away. In the light of the evening, the colorful containers are all painted the same, looming square shapes. Block 615 is a bit of a walk from the parking lot.

Jerome sighs a bit and reloads his gun before checking his spare clips.

Ozymandias pulls into that area, turning the big SUV off. He doesn't actually bother locking the door this time. He just lets out a heavy breath, and looks aside to Jerome. "So. I'ma not bother being too subtle if we get caught." He admits, pulling the baseball bat out from under the back seat. He eases his pistol out of his holster, and actually rests it into a pocket, barely fitting there, but fitting none the less. "Ready?" He asks of Jerome, not waiting for the other man as he starts walking into the docks area, heading towards that block. Both hands are free, the bat tucked under his left arm, leaving him to text with one hand, the right settled in his pocket, resting on a pistol.

"As I'll ever be." Jerome offers quietly, slipping out behind Ozymandias.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

Ozymandias slips a black smartphone into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Ozymandias slips that phone away after one more text, blowing out a quiet breath. "Glitter. Fuck kind of name is glitter." He mutters as the phone goes away, and he gives Jerome a nod.

"It sparkles and looks like it." Jerome replies quietly. "Did a line the other night."

The yard is about what you'd expect at this time of night. Quiet, salt and fish in the air, but something isn't quite right. Neither of you can put your finger on it yet. Your footsteps echo about the stacked containers as you weave your way through, Jerome navigating with his GPS to make sure you don't get too lost in the maze. You take a few wrong turns, but eventually make it close to the right block. The cement underfoot is painted with each number, informing you this one is block 614, one off.

You hear someone breathing hard nearby, shallow breaths, as though whimpering.

"I'll give it a few before we get jumped." Jerome offers with a slight shrug. "Let's see how it goes."

Ozymandias pauses, looking aside to Jerome. He raises a finger to his lips, motioning for silence as he tenses where he stands. Theres a few moments of quiet breathing, as he tries to pinpoint something, before moving along at a steady pace, crouching and moving quietly. His left hand snags about that bat, holding it firm in one hand.

Jerome tugs his pistol out of his waist band, following along quietly as he can.

Turning a corner, you see a lean, dark-haired woman in fur-trimmed boots, a tank top and cargo pants slumped against her own corner of shipping containers. A trail of blood glistens from around the container, and from a glance over her, you can see she has three gunshot wounds, one to the leg, two to the lower abdomen. Once she spots you, she shakily braces her pistol and aims it at you.

Turning a corner, you see the Keeper girl you'd met before, wearing a tank top and cargo pants slumped against her own corner of shipping containers. A trail of blood glistens from around the container, and from a glance over her, you can see she's been hit by a few gunshot wounds. She doesn't see you yet.

But, you see her spot someone whom you're behind, and she raises her gun at him.

Ozymandias looks to the woman, staring rather blankly as she's, well. Still upright. He raises that hand holding the bat, the right hand raising with it and bringing the pistol up. But those hands are raised in the air, openly as he watches the woman. "I'm Oz. Not gonna hurt you. Uh. Probably had better nights." He offers, voice even as those heavy brows look to the woman, eyes watching the pistol. He takes a tentative step forward, slow. "You're? And, please for fucks sake tell me you aren't, uh. Normal."

Jerome steps out from behind Ozymandias and raises a hand to the woman. "Hold up." he offers just loud enough for her to hear. "Jerome from the club.. Shit." he offers before moving towards her with his hand raised. "She's a keeper."

You spot an hourglass etched into the metal of her gun just as Jerome says what she is. Which probably explains that.

Ozymandias brows tug up, and he looks from Jerome to the woman as he approaches her. Theres a low, heavy breath from him, and arms start lowering as the other man approaches. "Well. Fuck. Maybe she can tell us what's going on. And why she's bloody, while we take her to the car." He explains, brows furrowing as he tries to look the way the bloodtrail goes. "And maybe, finish whatever she was here to do."

The woman winces and lowers her gun again at Ozymandias's and Jerome's words. "You," she mutters toward Jerome, hands moving again to press over her bleeding abdomen. "I'm not in a good way," she mutters, still breathing shallowly. "They got my vest... they were gonna cut me open, they were gonna cut all of us open." The effort of speaking has the blood flowing more freely through her hands. "Wild goose hunt for them right now," she chuckles, sounding a little bit delirious. "Probably went after Armin first. They always go after him first." As though to punctuate her words, two gunshots ring out from somewhere to the northwest of your location.

Jerome doesn't seem bothered by the shots, "Fuck. You should have gotten my message and met us there." he chides the woman gently. "You have a medevac that can get you? Doesn't look like we'll be able to run you the hospital."

Ozymandias sucks in a breath at the gunshots, eyes drawing to that direction. And then he's taking steps towards that way, moving past the woman to look towards it. "If you can medevac, call 'em." He offers to Jerome then. "I'm feeling like I need to go stop some fucking murders." He explains, voice slowly drifting into a growl as he looks back to the woman again, before he jerks his head away. "Got fuckin'.. Nothing for her in my rig." He admits.

"Message? What message?" slurs the woman. You hear a pair of pounding footsteps somewhere nearby, echoing off the shipping containers. "/Fuck/," growls a man's voice, in a faint Irish brogue. "Bitch got Jimmy. /And/ Ben." Another male voice speaks up from near him. "She ain't gone far. Look, blood."

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'Play time.'

Jerome casually readies his pistol as he turns towards the voices.

Ozymandias hears the voices, and the man flattens his back into a shipping container there, where the bloodtrail leads. Likely next to the woman infact. Both hands grasp that bat, though one is somehow holding the pistol with the grip, an improvised hold for a swing to be sure.

The footsteps round the corner. Two men wearing ballistic vests (apparently stolen off the Keepers judging by the hourglasses marked on them), t-shirts and shorts round the corner, pistols out. Unfortunately, they walk right into Ozymandias and Jerome, who are ready for them. Turn order: Jerome, Ozymandias, gangsters, Keeper girl... who probably won't do anything but bleed.

"Hi." Jerome offers in a friendly manner before quickly raising and firing (at the throat to head area) of the closest gangster.

Ozymandias waits for the first one to come around the cargo container. And then he swings that baseball bat like. Well. A bat, for the mans head.

The gangster getting the double team treatment from Ozymandias and Jerome ends up knocked into the shipping containers. Though it knocks the wind out of him and starts him bleeding through the hole in his gut, he isn't quite down for the count yet. Driven by something more than just adrenaline, he draws a knife with his off hand and slashes upward at Ozymandias, planting a good slash of a cut on his thigh. The second one, meanwhile, attempts to take out Jerome with a couple of shots, landing one in his bicep and grazing him with the second.

Oh, and the Keeper girl raises her gun shakily and sends two shots off, emptying her clip by the sound of the lack of rounds firing with the next couple of trigger squeezes.

And, she clips the second guy on the calf.

Jerome hisses and almost drops his gun but manages to hold on, probably thanks to the adrenaline, and raises his arm to shakily fire off (at least) half a clip at the man, or at least until he makes a decent shot, then that arm goes dead and it's hanging limply at his side, blood quickly staining his shirt.

Ozymandias lets out a snarl at the cut on his thigh, and the man twists, bringing the bat down hard on the man next to him's hand as he leverages a .40 pistol towards the next. Theres a short moment of aim, and then a loud snap as he squeezes the trigger, aimed at that mans head thigh with a precise shot, trying to knock him off his feet rather than kill him.

Ozymandias aim's at the pistolman's thigh, not his head.

Jerome aimed for the head. He doesn't like loose ends, apparently.

Ozymandias sends his target's knife clattering but can't quite put him down. At this range, he can almost see the strangely dilated eyes, even for someone fighting in the near dark. He's going to have to put a bullet in his head or else really restrain him if the wants the man to stop fighting-- he takes a good slug in the face despite having shot clean through the man's thigh bone. Jerome, meanwhile, clips his target but can't put him down either, even with the Keeper girl's subsequent reloading and clip emptying toward the second man, all the while spurting blood. That Keeper fearlessness is probably going to kill her if she doesn't stop-- she probably should have passed out already, but yet is holding on. The second man does end up knocking into the nearby shipping container as he gets pelted full of bullets, but he isn't dead yet either, and returns fire toward Jerome, clipping him again, this time in the thihg.

Jerome takes the shot and stagers a bit before switching his gun over to his right hand and stalking towards the man firing on him, aiming for his head and probably emptying his clip

Ozymandias takes a few moments to register the man being up. Then theres another snarl. That pistol get's placed right to his head, and then. Bang. His entire face screws into a grimace with the action. He's fluid, sliding around that man he just shot, arm holding the bat cupping about his neck as he takes a few steps, trying to drag himself between that man and Jerome's gunfight, using the man he just shot at as a bodyshield.

Ozymandias thinks; 'Fuck, Oz. No. Just fucking no. Don't fucking think.'

The collapses against Ozymandias in a manner which makes it a bit hard for him to use him as a shield, but he manages with a burst of adrenaline, walking into the line of fire after Jerome empties his clip into the second man and causes him to collapse, finally, though he's still breathing through his bullet-riddled chest. The Keeper girl has collapsed herself, slumping back against the corner.

The BODY collapses against Ozymandias, that is.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'Check on her.'

Jerome continues to his advance towards the downed (but breathing man), he looks pissed. If he isn't grabbed or stopped he starts to stop his noninjured foot into the man's face.

Ozymandias holds that man infront of him a few moments longer, making sure the downed man doesn't fire for the next few seconds as he turns his head towards the keeper girl who collapsed. But, then there goes Jerome. And he lets go of the bodyshield to instead step forward, and try to give Jerome a shove away. "Back the fuck off. And if you're that full of it, go find the fucking others so we can stop this tonight." He snarls, jerking his head in the diretion the two men had come from. He's doing a bit of kicking himself, though his is trying to kick the breathing mans pistol away.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), in a deep southern monotone, 'I'm not doing anything.. That fucker got my dominate arm.'

Jerome eventually heads back over to the keeper girl, but his movements are slow and pained.

You hear more gunfire off in the distance. It sounds like, whatever is happening, the Keepers are putting up a fight, at least. The Keeper is still alive, but she's not in any condition to talk, being passed out and slowly bleeding out through the wounds no one is keeping pressure on. The not yet dead gangster is also still breathing. Something on his nose catches the light as the two of you move around, like he's wearing glitter for some strange reason.

Jerome says (to Ozymandias), moving to put pressure on the bleeding woman's wounds, ' Remember when I said think pee-cee-pee? It acts like it too.. Going to be hard to put these guys down.'

Ozymandias blows out a low breath, eyes looking over to Jerome at those words. He takes his time then, reaching a hand for his pocket. "Get her to the rig. I'm going to keep looking around then. And keep the fucking engine running. Or take her to the hospital. I don't care." He offers, blowing out a quiet breath. "Hate this shit." He snarls, looking down at the man infront of him. Eyes look back up, and he sets the bat down to pull his phone out, and dial 911. "It'll be easier now that I don't fucking care and want this over with." He replies, waiting for an answer on the other side.

Ozymandias tells the operator when they do pick up. "Hi. Theres a ton of gunfire and screaming and bullets whizzing down at the docks. Around Block Six One--" He pauses, looking down to the ground, before back up. "Four." He explains, the words said even, level in a practiced tone. "Need EMT and police on the scene immediately." He explains, and even as he says it, he's retrieving his baseball bat, and starting off deeper into the docks.

Getting her to the car with your wounded arm, in her condition, is something which could have mixed results.

You turn the corner to see two dead bodies, presumably Jimmy and Ben, and the trail of the Keeper girl's blood all the way around the place. The number 615 looms ahead of you, spray painted into the concrete. You see muzzle flashes and hear their corresponding noises as you make your way further, leaving Jerome to fend for himself and the Keeper girl. Most of the noise seems to be coming from your right.

Jerome sighs a bit and moves to attempt and get the keeper up. He's a bit stronger than average, but he /is/ working with one arm.

Ozymandias waits for any disbelieving tones from the woman, and he just raises the phone up as some of the gunfire echoes out, before he hangs up, and settles the phone back into his pocket. Then, he's back to baseball bat/gun setup, and skulking with some practice down the way, towards the fighting area. He tries to avoid any bright areas on the way, keeping to the sides as he tries to gauge the center of the trouble, or nearby warehouses.

The Keeper girl bleeds all over you as you lift her. She isn't looking too good, and it's quite a walk. Maybe you should find one of those golf carts they drive around the place.

Jerome sets the woman down and turns to head off, probably looking for something to help. He heads the opposite way from the gunfire.

You can't really make out the woman's reply, but even the Boston PD will make its way out to the docks with the kind of fire that's flying, even if they don't want to tangle with the McLearys. Sticking to the shadows, you see something odd-- it looks like there are two twitch guards standing outside one of the shipping containers. Despite the gunfire, they haven't moved. (fix)

You don't find anything on the first turn of the corner, but at the second, with a right and another right, you see a litt alcove they've parked a cluster of golf carts in. Unfortunately, you fumble with finding the keys, which wastes a few minutes on top of the walk.

Jerome sighs a bit and does his best to find keys, when he manages that he's back towards the bleeding woman as fast as the thing will go.

Ozymandias eyes catch on something. And he seems to lock in on it. Crouching low, he starts to try and close the distance towards a single shipping container, a little bit away from the main firefight. He's approaching as close as he can, dark eyes locked on the two figures infront of it, watching for any signs of them noticing his approach.

Jerome speeds back at roughly eighteen miles per hour in his golf cart, narrowly avoiding some shipping carts with his sharp turns left and left. The girl is, amazingly, still alive, but she needs a hospital pronto. Ozymandias, meanwhile, creeps toward shipping container. One guard calls to the other when he spots Ozymandias from not too far off, but as they're close to a light, their eyes aren't as well adjusted to the darkness, giving Ozymandias the advantage of the first shot.

Jerome loads the woman as fast as he can then drives back to the car as fast as he can without throwing her off.

Ozymandias raises the gun, takes careful aim, and fires at the first man's head. Then he's trying to jump aside, and ducking behind that cargo container away from them and out of sight, readying his bat to slam out against the ankles of anyone that comes around the corner after him.

Ozymandias's bullet grazes the man but doesn't put him down, just knocks him on his ass. The second guard rushes toward him and ends up tripping over the outstretched leg, going down with a quick kick from Ozymandias. Jerome, meanwhile, hears sirens in the distance-- sounds like the PD and the ambulance are coming his way. Maybe this woman will live after all. She slumps against him from where he's placed her next to him, but they're still a few minutes from successfully navigating the shipping container maze to the parking lot.

Jerome just does his best to get where he's going to keep the woman alive. He's clearly hurting a bit out of it from the blood loss and bullet lodged in him.

Ozymandias takes advantage of having the man right next to him down, and aims carefully, pulling the trigger at his head as well. He turns, booking ass towards the end of the container to try and get around behind the man he first shot at, and that container they were watching, circling it to attempt a flank.

After what seems like forever, Jerome finally makes it out of the maze, just in time to be met by the first ambulance, who take over for him. Oddly, or maybe not, he and the Keeper girl are the only ones who have made it out, and someone gets to handling his wounds after they first see that the girl is stabilized. Ozymandias, meanwhile, blows out the brains of the target next to him, rushing next to threaten the other man with his gun. It doesn't look like this one is high; he may be able to reason with him.

Ozymandias keeps a rather menacing look to him as he comes around the next corner, bat dangling at his side, and likely a bit bloody. He keeps his pistol trained on the downed man as he steps forward. "Throw the gun to me, or you'll be number fucking five tonight." The man snarls the words out, heavy brows set tight over dark eyes, shadowing them further. He keeps his gaze on his weapon as he approaches him, and that cargo container. "What's in there?" He asks, jerking his head towards it, but not actually looking away from the man to do it.

Jerome allows himself to be treated before hanging around and waiting for Ozymandias to do his thing.

The police are beginning to arrive, though they don't seem ready to march into the containers where there is live fire, yet. Instead, they start setting up a perimeter, with one moving to pretty much interrogate Jerome. Officer Reggie Wilson, not recognizable by Jerome but will by Ozymandias, all suited up in uniform, ignores orders barked at him and rushes into the maze, followed shortly by his partner. The man Ozymandias is threatening, meanwhile, drops his gun immediately, shaking, and says, "I-- I ain't seen nothin', I don't know nothin'," looking rather afraid to say anything. More afraid of saying something than of Ozymandias's gun, which is probably stupid since the latter can just shoot him and march on inside.

Ozymandias doesn't bother to shoot him. He just gives that gun a firm kick away, and swings the bat towards the mans head, trying to smack him once in the temple and send him to nighty-night land. He almost seems ready to say something, but instead his face just tugs in a little grimmer as he tries to move past to the container itself.

Jerome waves a hand at the approaching officer and tugs his band on.

Jerome not, because he left it.

A horrible, entirely wrong smell hits you as you pull the door to the shipping container open. Plastic sheets bar your vision from what is inside, but it smells... medical and raw. Someone is whimpering inside, a female, whispering the word, "Please," over and over again. A flourescent light flickers overhead, run by a humming generator.

"What happened?" demands the police officer, who appears to be B. Adams. "Gunshots? What's going on in there?"

"Irish mafia. This is where they're running the quicksilver." Jerome offers tiredly. "Went in with a member of rockfield to investigate, got shot a few times."

"The McLearys are in there?" asks the police officer, eyes narrowing. "You sure about the quicksilver?"

Ozymandias swallows hard as he enters the container. He brushes some sheets away with his baseball bet, taking a heavy gulp as he steps in. Eyes track through it, trying to gain that entire picture in the flourescent lighting. But the smell and the sound are enough to have his knuckles white on the baseball bat. "Please.. What? And.. Who?" He asks, the words are quiet, but firm.

"Yeah.. They're hopped up on it." Jerome replies tiredly, "That officer that ran it.. Better tell him to go for headshots."

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Otherwise they'll tear him apart.'

Ozymandias is confronted with a stomach-turning sight. A woman maybe in her early or mid twenties is spread-eagled face down on an operating table. Her face is turned toward Ozymandias. She might be pretty, if her face wasn't contorted in pain... and her back wasn't sliced open to expose her spinal cord and the muscles of her back. Someone has been slicing her spinal cord out bit by bit. On the other side of the makeshift operating room, more plastic sheets bar real vision to the other side, but even from where he is, he can tell there are bars of something silver and glittery stacked on a table.

The police officer turns toward Jerome, eyebrows raising, and raises his radio to his lips to repeat the order. "They're on it? Shit," he mutters, disgusted. His eyes shift toward where more police cars and ambulances are pulling up. "Who's in there, aside from the McLearys?"

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'A member of rockfield, and a few hourglass marked people.. The Mcleary's are trying to cut them up.'

Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'I think they're using keepers to make it.'

"The fuck is a Keeper?" the officer growls toward Jerome, a little frustrated by the explanation. He pulls out a clipboard and starts taking notes. "They're trying to cut /people/ up?"

Ozymandias gives another deep, heavy swallow as he looks at that sight. Then, he's look aside to the plastic. Realization doesn't dawn on him. Simply understanding, and he's screwing his face into a fierce snarl as he looks back to the woman again. "Who?" He asks of her, moving the few steps to kneel infront of her. The bat is settled against the container as he instead moves a hand to her head, fingers brushing through her head in a soothing manner. "Who's doing it?"

"An organization, like rockfield." Jerome explains vaguely, "But not like rockfield at all. And yes, they were trying to. They were looking for one of theirs here, her name is Karen.. I think they might have been using her to produce that shit."

"I don't know," whimpers the girl, barely able to pull herself together for the question. "Please, you have to... go... but... first..." she heaves, then swallows hard, her legs not twitching but her hands and fingers shaking against the needles and tubes sticking out of her. "Kill me. I can't... please..."

"Like Rockfield," repeats the officer, frustrated. His baby face looks up toward the sky before he gives a frustrated grunt. "Okay, start from the beginning. You say they're using a girl to make it. And they're cutting people up? What the fuck? Why would they do that?"

"Fuck if I know.. I'm just a stockbroker." Jerome offers tiredly. "I'm sure the officer that ran in will be able to tell you more."

Ozymandias gives her hair another pat, eyes closing tight. "What's your name." He asks of her then, voice quiet, somber. He raises up, looking over her back, gauging the wounds there, the severity, the amount of what's missing, before he crouches back down. The hand runs through her hair, brushing it away from her face as he leans in, pressing his forehead to her own. The other hand raises, moving the gun to her temple.

Jerome gets a silver flip phone from his black slacks pocket.

"Kari. Karen," the girl whispers. Ozymandias knows whatever has been done to the girl has probably fucked her up for life. He can tell by the way she's moving that she's probably lost use of her legs at best. She might still be able to live a halfway normal life, but a Keeper in a wheelchair is unheard of.

"What's a stockbroker doing out here at this time of night?" the officer asks Jerome, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "Who are you? You got some ID?" And this is when he starts going back to protocol, starting to interview Jerome without any sign whatsoever he has any desire to go into the maze.

Ozymandias pistol falls away from her temple, and he just hugs her head then, blowing out a low, quiet breath. "I'm sorry, Karen. I can't do it. The cops will be here soon. The EMT's. If you want to be gone a year from now. You call." He explains, that hand in her hair still petting as he keeps his forehead there. A few more long seconds, and then he's releasing her, and standing to face the entrance of the thing, moving behind the table for some modicum of cover as he waits for the next face to show itself.

"Jerome Lewis, ex coretech financial advisor." Jerome answers tiredly.

"No... no, please," Karen pleads toward Ozymandias, tears slipping from her eyes. She can't seem to move from where she is to reach toward the gun, but she wants that bullet. "Please..." Her begging fades as he makes his way toward the entrance. Whoever was cutting up the drug has long since ditched the place, and the gunfire has faded, too. The next face to run up is Reggie's. Ozymandias would know him, this lean black man in his late thirties. He has a bit of a potbelly and a few too many grey hairs for someone his age. His partner, Bill, isn't too far behind him-- midthirties with curly brown hair and a healthy tan. "Shit, Hawke, I was afraid I'd trip over you getting here," says Reggie, lowering his gun. "It clear in here or are there more guys?"

"Okay," says the police officer to Jerome, waiting for some sort of physical identification to be produced. The EMT wraps up Jerome's wounds with something that numbs the pain as the first ambulance drives away and a second pulls into the lot. "Mister Lewis, what brings you out to the docks tonight? You were with Rockfield? Or what?"

"With a member of Rockfield, was running the computers for him." Jerome offers, tugging out his license for the officer.

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, looking out at the exit of the container. "Unless the gunfires still going, think we're good." He explains to the cop, looking out over the area. "Something real fucked going on inside, Reg. You might want to, uh. Just not step in." He explains, shoulders tense, hands actually shaking. "And get the EMT's here as fast as fucking possible. Helicopter too." He explains, eyes drawing closed. "There's, uh. A few more people around here unaccounted for. Theres a Jerome somewhere. Have your people see if he can ask how many Keepers are missing. And then we get to bodycheck." He explains, eyes drawing back to the black man, refusing to entirely walk out of that container. "If we got 'em all I think the drugs done with. For now. If any are missing..."

Ozymandias says, in a quiet, rough basso, 'Well. If any are missing, it'll keep going. And we need to fuckin' snag Jake." The man explains, eyes falling onto the cap again. "Cuz they'll probably try again."'

Ozymandias brows tug in, a hand reaching to his pocket as he leans the bat against his legs. He pulls a phone free from it as brows raise, looking over to the two men. "Got to soothe someones worry. Need anything officers? You've got my number otherwise." He explains, fingers running across it. "Far as I know, Keepers and these folks got a street war going now. And they're turning people into fucking drugs."

Ozymandias gets a black smartphone from his dark blue jeans pocket.

Ozymandias types a message out on their phone.

"Yeah?" grumbles Reggie as Bill pulls out his radio and calls for the EMT. "God damn, I knew something messed up was going on here, but this... I don't even know /what's/ going to go in the report. But I'm gonna tell you now, Jake O'Malley isn't anyone the PD is going to touch. Something's going on upstairs, Hawke. I don't know what, but I don't like it." Bill nods in silent agreement from nearby after making the radio call, but the EMTs are soon on their way with a stretcher.

Ozymandias slips a black smartphone into his dark blue jeans pocket.

Officer B. Adams asks Jerome to go through the details again of the night, writing a bunch of notes, at least until the EMT shoos him off. "This man is going to the hospital," the woman wearing the star of life on her uniform says to the officer. "The doctors will pull the bullet out for you. It doesn't look too bad to me, though."

Ozymandias blows out a quiet breath, stepping out of the way for that stretcher. "That's fine, man. I don't care if they won't touch him." The man puts a little extra emphasis on the word they, as he speaks. "Just, you know. Keep me informed. I'll see what can be done. Alright?" He explains, trying to catch the black mans gaze levely. He's keeping a hard, stoic face. "Past that. I need to, uh. Get going. Think you can get me cleared out of here?"

"Yeah, yeah," Reggie says to Ozymandias. "Won't be a problem. I'll radio in that I got a report from you already. Make up something good to go along with this story." Bill smirks from nearby at Reggie's words, though it's a grim sort of smirk. "Go on ahead, we'll stay here, get a head count. I'll let you know."

"Well it hurts like a bitch." Jerome grumps lightly. "Sooner it's out the better."

Ozymandias nods his head along with someone' words, blowing out a heavy breath. Then he's reholstering his pistol, and leveling that baseball bat over his shoulder. He takes a few steps, getting into the maze and away from any officers before he throws up all over the ground. A few moments of heaving, his head against a container, and he's brushing an across his mouth, cleaning it. A few moments to breath long, deep breathes and collect himself, and he's finishing his walk to the parking lot.

The EMT finishes patching Jerome up, sending him off in an ambulance to the local hospital. They won't keep him overnight, just pull the bullet out and give him some antibiotics. Jerome currently still has the phone, but his laptop is in Ozymandias's car, and his car is still in the Publicans lot-- which might make for trouble later, if no one gets it out of the lot before people look into it. Ozymandias, meanwhile, makes his way out of the maze, leaving it to the the PD to clean the mess up. He'll get a message tomorrow about the head count, probably. But otherwise, the police let him pass with Reggie's 'note', and he's free to go home.

Jerome makes a few phone calls to have somebody come and pick his car up before he heads out with the ambulance.

Ozymandias clambers into that SUV in the parking lot. And tears out.

	 The Boston PD arrived on scene to a mass shooting at an industrial cargo

storage yard early this morning. Seven people were found dead, with three more brought to the hospital in conditions varying from severe to critical.

Several of the dead are suspected as being related to smuggling ring, according to a police officer who prefers to remain anonymous. Captain Gerald Casey said in a press release following the aftermath that the department is doing its utmost to bring the perpetrators to justice, but would not release details. - (Snowman)