Briya pulled her coat tighter around her as she neared the corner of 4th and 25th. As the sun began to set, the temperature dropped considerably. Her hands checked the contents of her front pockets yet again; basic lock picking tools, and a few odds and ends that had proven useful in the past. She slowed before reaching the corner, pausing to light a cigarette and taking in her surroundings. 

The gothic entrance to Greenwood itself cast ominous shadows down onto the pavement at the entrance of the cemetery as the last of the day's visitors vacated the premises. The few guards posted there stayed on, milling about and chatting as the promise of a quiet evening shift presented itself. Crushing out her cigarette as she studied them, Briya then turned and stepped over to a street vendor, waving off the food he had on offer and settling for a cup of coffee instead. She could use the caffeine, the sugar, and the warmth as she began surreptitiously checking up and down the street for Keats.

Of course he wouldn't appear in any normal fashion. She never saw or heard a thing...he was just suddenly there next to her, nearly causing her to spill coffee down herself. 

"Well then. This is promising," she said by way of greeting. 

Keats enjoyed the brisk caress of the cold air, enjoyed the sight of his breath floating away in the evening sky. It was good to be out and about again, back on the job. His satchel, hanging at his side, was full of the tools he'd need for the night's work. He walked with a long staff in his right hand; it was nearly as tall as he was and made him vaguely reminiscent of Odin, the wanderer. He stood out, but not alarmingly so. 

He smiled as he saw the flare of of match illuminate the side of Briya's face as it lit her cigarette; in a little while, she got a cup of coffee. While he felt strange watching her, he was more concerned with watching the crowd around her, looking for signs of suspicious activity. When he was as certain as he could be that it was safe to proceed, Keats quietly approached her, unintentionally startling her.

"Well then. This is promising."

"I agree, Miss Young. Looks like three or four men, at most. I was wondering... would you be opposed to a more direct approach to remove these men from the equation, rather than looking over our shoulder all night?"

Briya assumed he meant with violence, but after a glance at his satchel and a quick check of the way his coat fell over his form, she began to doubt the assumption. She herself had no gun, only the knife she'd had specially designed, with which she'd turned around and killed the designer. On orders, not by choice. She wasn't averse to killing, but she wasn't bloodthirsty, per se.

"I am open to any suggestions you may have, Mr. Keats," she replied, studying him a moment more before shifting her gaze back to the entrance guards. 

"Just the two of us, though? You may be overestimating my prowess," she smiled, sipping her coffee and continuing to watch through the steam rising from her cup. Three, four guards? She could hardly wait to hear what he had in mind...

Keats cracked a smile, his tanned skin eager to begin. It had been a long time. 

"I would prefer to remove them from the occasion, I think. It would far easier than trying to identify and evade their patrols. And I assure you that I'm not overestimating your prowess in the least."

Although if this goes poorly, I may be overestimating mine.

"Wait here, Miss Young."

He walked over to the security guards, loitering outside the small structure that served as a gatehouse or guardpost. With a quick look around to ensure that no one other than Briya was watching, he increasingly limped as he approached, coughing and leaning on his staff for support, as it he'd collapse to the ground without it. A couple of the guards looking concerned at the noise, but quickly dismissed him. 

One guard, with kind eyes, started to step forward and assist him, but a larger one stopped him from doing so, muttering something about "riffraff". With a final scrape of his staff against the pavement, Keats was in range.

"You need to leave, old man. This is-OOF!"

The staff struck the largest guard in his ample stomach, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him towards the ground, where the staff swung up to connect with his chin and close his mouth with a snap. The other guards were reaching to their sides- looked like nightsticks, no guns. Keats moved quickly, striking one in the side of the head and another in the knees and chest before they could take any swings of their own. The last one, however, had his nightstick out and ready to fight. He also reached to a pocket and pulled out a- shit. A whistle.

As the guard raised it towards his lips, Keats swung- not at the guard, but at his hand, knocking the whistle into the bushes. It had left him over, though, and Keats twisted so that his shoulder caught the blow that was aiming for his head. He parried the next couple strikes, and had a few of his own swings blocked as well, before the altercation quickly ended. This final guard was tough, watching the ends of the staff and blocking well- but he didn't anticipate the center of the weapon smashing into his face, before a finishing blow laid him to the ground.

Three of the guards were out cold, but the third one he'd taken down- the one who'd appeared kindest- was still conscious. Keats quickly disarmed him and gestured to the small building. 

"Drag them in there and tie them up. Not too tight. We don't want any other injuries. If you do a good job, there's some money in this for you. Something for you and your family. But if you make this difficult, I'll be forced to take a more permanent solution."

Keats raised the top of his satchel, revealing the pistol. It wasn't loaded, but the guard didn't need to know that. As the young guard started dragging the others inside and tying the up, Keats felt Briya approach behind him.

"Double check and make sure the three are tied tight- and perhaps you can arrange to tie up our helper there as well."

Smiling, he removing the blade of a shovel from his satchel and snapped it into place on his staff. 

Briya blinked at the speed and efficiency with which Keats dispatched the guards. There was much more to this blue-eyed bookseller than the wisdom and experience that radiated off of him; it would do her well to dig a little deeper and find out what that entailed. 

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the head of a spade emerged from his satchel and was briskly attached to his cane. Briya smiled at the coincidence as she secured the hands of the fourth guard, who was fortunately too dazed to have attempted any speech so far. Rising from the kneeling position she'd been in, she surveyed the bound guards one final time, checking their bindings before following Keats out of the guardhouse and pulling the door closed...but not before yanking the cord of the landline from the wall.

"I am...beyond impressed. I myself have little if any hand-to-hand experience. If we should find ourselves with some spare time after this adventure, maybe you could teach me a thing or two? In the meantime, though, I suppose it is my turn to try and impress," she said absently as she surveyed the darkened landscape, eyes landing on one of the larger mausoleums. 

She didn't know whose it was, but it was indeed glorious. Making a beeline towards it, her hand was already on the lockpicking kit in her pocket, fingers raising the flap and knowing exactly what they needed for the exterior gate. She had them out before she even got there, grinning at the well-maintained metallic lock. No rust here, not at these prices.

Smooth as silk, she inserted the tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole, applying pressure before inserting her pick at the top of the lock. The light was dim, but a nearby lamp post afforded her just enough brightness to avoid bungling around or using a pen light; quite an advantage, not having to fuss with security!

Torquing the wrench now, she scrubbed the pick to and fro in the keyhole, repeating the movement until all the pins finally set. With a quiet pop, the door sprung open. Briya didn't wait around for accolades; she was already through the gate and at the mausoleum door itself, working the next lock. 

In seconds, they were inside. Turning to Keats, she eyed the spade. "No digging yet...I do not suppose you have a crow bar attachment for that, instead?" She grinned, although it was more heard than seen, as the only light penetrating the pitch darkness inside were the scant rays from the lamp post outside. Briya reached for a penlight and snapped it on, quickly sweeping the room and allowing the light to dance over the encased casket before them for a few seconds before resuming her search of the walls, seeking leverage...

My God. My back. Sonofabitch.

Keats smirked to cover the grating protests of muscles getting the cobwebs knocked off them.

It had been a long time since he'd had to do anything like that.

He tried to surreptitiously stretch as he walked and things started to improve slightly. At least there was a little time before digging was required. He glanced up at the stars as he spoke, keeping his voice low. 

"I'd be happy to teach you, but please remember those were security guards. For a graveyard. If those men were true professionals I never would have attempted that."

He leaned against the shovel, amused, as Briya waltzed through a lock like it wasn't even there. 

"You're certainly talented, Miss Young. I'm not saying I couldn't have done that, but it would have taken me another hour or so."

Wordlessly, he removed a small crowbar from his satchel. Fortunately, most caskets weren't sealed up quite like treasure chests- this graverobbing trend had only started recently. Most people, no doubt, thought that the locks and the guards were enough. 

It was much too dark now for Briya to see anything outside the scope of her penlight, even more so to notice the subtle twinges and skips of Keats' movements next to her. As it were, she brushed off his words as modesty. Fortunately for Keats, her adrenaline from the successful door pickings had her nearly vibrating with barely-contained energy.

"May I?" she asked, reaching for the crowbar. "It does not look sealed, or all that thick, really. I would like to see if I can handle it," she said, reaching for the crowbar and stepping towards the casket. 

Her brain told her the lid would be heavy, so once the edge of the crowbar was wedged under the lip of the casket, she threw the entirety of her weight on the opposing end and practically bounced down on it. 

The lid flew up with such force that it clacked back on its hinges and slapped back down again, expelling dust into the air that was smelled rather than seen. Briya laughed before she was overwhelmed with a coughing fit. 

"Not sealed at all. Thank goodness it is an old one, there is no smell, either!" she said happily, opening the casket more gently with her hands this time, and propping the lid in the upright position. The body phased her none at all; it was barely more than a tangle of rotted, colorless rags anymore, anyway. 

As she ran her light back and forth, top to bottom, it picked up the little sparkly things that NEVER rot. Sapphire earrings. A cameo brooch. A filigreed, gold necklace. Rings...pearl, garnet, and, of course, diamond. Briya carefully picked these out of the dusty remains and held them up for inspection under the little light.

"If they were not heirloom then, they certainly are now," she murmured, handing each to Keats so that he could see them as well. "A good haul, wouldn't you say?"

Keats, muscles still flaring from his earlier exertion, was happier to let his younger partner step to the fore. Keats stared down steadily at the body, even as Briya examined the jewelry.

So many of his old friends, gone like this, though with far less luxury. What would they look like now, their remnants in construction sites, shallow graves for convenience... and of his old family, his first family, he was the last one left. And not for much longer, considering his age and his line of work.

A particular sparkle from a diamond, matching the shine in Briya's eye and voice, disturbed him from his reverie. 

"A good haul, indeed."

Keats knelt next to her, reaching down and holding up a string of pearls to the light. He smirked.

"I think these would suit you very well, Miss Young. Consider this a bonus for your... exuberance. It won't calculate into our final split."

Placing the pearls in her hand, he willed his knees to return him to a standing position. There were more tombs to hit and, with security incapacitated, they shouldn't have to worry about interference.

It was a long night, made longer by the fact that they were engaged in the same task over and over again. Security melted before Briya like wax; in the rare case where it was an older technology that she may be less familiar with, Keats was sometimes able to lend a hand. They moved quickly, knowing that after this spree was done this hunting ground would become far too closely watched. Keats was nervously eyeing the lightening of the sky, but Briya talked him into one more. Than another one. In the end, it wouldn't have mattered.

When Keats finally caught a glimpse of them, it was obvious that the police had been there for at least a couple hours. Wordlessly, he got Briya's attention and pointed out the situation.

A police wagon at every entrance, and with more arriving now that it was morning. A huge show of force, but the chief must have realized how much shit he would catch for letting this happen to the ancestors of everyone who could make him miserable. Or fire him. 

There were police at every exit and, based on the new arrivals, they were planning to send in some searchers while still ensuring no one walked out. Calmly, Keats considered escape routes and whispered the options to Briya.

A tall fence surrounded the cemetery, although there were places were tall trees might allow them to jump over.

"We could try climbing a tree, jumping a fence at one of the less trafficked areas. They might have some patrols walking around, but this place is huge. There must be some gaps in coverage."

"That's the only way I can thinking of running and holding on to the goods."

He glanced down at the bag of loot.

"We could hide the stuff, bury it and try to come back to it later. That way, even if we get caught we have a chance of recovering it once the heat has died down."

"We could try to pose as a grieving widower and his daughter, sneaking in to visit the grave of a beloved wife and mother... although our security guards are most likely awake now and might have identified an older man and young woman as their attackers."

"We could also reach out to a recent contact of mine, Sullivan Black. He's an undertaker, offered to help... I wish I'd vetted him more closely, at the moment, but at the time I was too suspicious. We could try to see if he could concoct a cover story for us... but again, we run into the same issues as the guards. Taking them out let us move much faster, hit more graves... but now it's hurting us on the back end. They saw us, and while they may not be able to ID us, they'd definitely recognize us if we were paraded in front of them in custody."

"I don't really see how we could talk our way of this one. How do you feel about climbing a tree and trying to jump? Unless you have any other ideas?"

Briya opened her mouth to reply when one of the flashlights of the gathered ensemble of police presence skated across a tombstone not far over Keats' shoulder. Reaching out, she tugged him low to the ground by the lapel of his overcoat. The cone of light flared over their heads once, twice, three times, then moved on to the next hillock, this one deemed 'clear'.

"That ought to buy us some time? Let's just head for the tree line and climb. I do not think I want to be in here anymore," Briya murmured quietly while rising to a low crouch to double check for stragglers. Not seeing any, she slung the sack of loot over her shoulder and led the way towards the shadowy figures of some tall trees near the fence line. After a hundred yards, they were there and scrambling skywards, Briya having chucked the bag over as soon as they'd gotten close enough for her to do so. 

The trees were old, tall, and quite gnarled, so climbing wasn't particularly difficult, even if neither had done such a thing since childhood. The only mishap occurred when Briya's newly acquired strand of pearls snagged on a chunk of peeling bark. She wedged herself against the trunk and carefully took her time working them loose, much to Keats' quiet protestations floating up to her from below.

No way was she leaving them, though, not after all the hours they'd put in...not this necklace. It had been presented to her as a bonus from Keats, and that alone made it worth more to her than any of the rest of the haul, even if it didn't account for as much in dollars as some of the other pieces. She'd impressed him somehow, or maybe she'd simply made a friend of sorts tonight...she didn't know, really. What she did know, though, was that she wasn't leaving those damn pearls behind.

Once they popped loose, she sighed with relief and carefully slipped the rest of the way down the tree trunk, stuffing the strand into her pocket before reaching down and picking up the loot bag that rested on the ground between her and Keats. As they began the long, serpentine walk around the outskirts of the cemetery and more or less back towards the city proper, Briya remembered something that Keats had said before they'd had to scramble.

"Should I be worried that you know an undertaker with questionable ethics?" She laughed, looping an arm through his as they finally spilled out onto the city sidewalk. Nothing to see here, just a father and daughter out for a stroll, or maybe two friends walking off a dinner in town.