After leaving Irene's office, Don didn't stray far. He lingered atop the theater's rooftop, stepping lightly over charred sections of concrete.
Dark streaks fanned outward, tracing the sloppy arcs of gasoline splashed hastily onto the surface. A faint chemical scent lingered, mixing with smoke, and it caused Don's brow to furrow beneath his mask.
He gently tapped the side of the mask, and a soft click broke the quiet, followed by faint static. A second later, another click echoed, and Gary's voice filtered through the line.
"Hello, sir. Have you managed to see the asset?"
Don's eyes traced one of the burn marks closely, noting the irregular pattern. "I have," he answered, tone flat, distracted. "But something is off. She said after the Gonzalez boys attacked, another group showed up, and one even claimed the Gonzalez brothers were targets themselves."
A thoughtful hum resonated from Gary's end. "That does seem off," he responded carefully. "One moment, sir."
