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Quiet workings

It was a few hours late into the evening when a large figure slipped through the shadows into the man’s lab, heading up the stairs to the apparent origin of the crime scene, if it could be called that. The scene of the accident if you will. With his hair quite carefully bound, slipping a pair of heavy, rubber gloves on before crouching carefully beside the spill, drawing a brass and glass box out and sliding it open before removing a pair of tongs from his coat to carefully pick up the heart’s casing from the spilled fluid, inspecting it a moment before setting it in the case, sliding the lid back into place.

The large man inspected the fluid on the end of the tongs for a moment before drawing a handkerchief from his pocket along with a glass vial, wiping it well before stuffing the handkerchief into the vial and sealing it, stepping back as he slipped the gloves off and set all away in the confines of his coat and turned to hurry back from that lab into the darkness of night. So careless of people inspecting the scene to leave such a thing in the open. He had decided to keep it safe, should it be needed later on.

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