11 AM. Atreus slowly stirs awake by the force of his own internal clock, managing to squeeze out just over six hours of sleep over the night and early morning. After he sleepily rubs his eyes, he grabs his phone from his nightstand to see a text that Devin had sent mere minutes prior.

[Don't know if you're awake yet, but I'm just letting you know I'm heading to the office now,] the message casually notifies.

The message further wakes the augmented man from his morning stupor enough to remind him of his mission. He sits up and turns his body to bring his feet off of his mattress, and takes one final stretch before standing and preparing for the day. He retrieves a fresh dress shirt, vest, and pants, and exits his apartment once he's fully dressed, paying no mind to eating any sort of small, quick breakfast.

Atreus purchases a ride to the light grey building that houses the Asano family office, taking the elevator to the top floor and making a straight line for the back-most room, where Ryuji and Devin are; the latter is casually scarfing down a cup of ramen noodles with stainless steel chopsticks at the coffee table in the middle of the office, and Ryuji is sitting straight and stoic at his desk like usual.

“Hey, man,” Devin greets his friend with a mouthful of warm noodles sitting at the bottom of his mouth. He swallows them before continuing. “I told aniki about Tetsuya and the phone stuff before you got here.”

“Sounds like you two need some other sort of lead to follow while you wait for the phone get cracked,” Ryuji's authoritative voice emerges from the opposite corner of the room. “Have you come up with anything?”

Atreus blows out a small sigh, “Not really. I'm not sure how else we can proceed without going to Camlin's home or the crime scene, but those two places are probably under the most surveillance by police drones right now,” he approaches a miniature kitchen in the corner of the room – a countertop, cupboard, sink, and microwave facing Ryuji's desk. “Is there any ramen left?”

“Yeah, all the chicken ones,” Devin says before he inhales another tangled clump of noodles with a loud slurp. “So, do you think we're stuck for the moment?”

“Maybe,” Atreus gives his curt reply as he takes a mug from the cupboard, fills it with water, and heats it in the microwave. It's not the ideal way to make ramen, but considering he woke up and skipped breakfast, he's not feeling especially picky about the particulars of preparation.

“Why not just go and look at the body?” Ryuji suddenly suggests, catching the attention of both of his subordinates. “It's been over twenty-four hours since it was found, so it should've had an autopsy by now. I don't think the police would have the coroner's place under their eye.”

Atreus turns and leans against the counter, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow in deep contemplation, “You sure that's a good idea? Isn't the coroner in this area only like three buildings down from a police station? Even then, are we sure the autopsy really has been performed already?”

“It's standard procedure to have an autopsy done as soon as possible after the body is discovered and the crime scene has been thoroughly inspected. So, with the autopsy already done, Camlin's body is just sitting in the morgue, waiting to be put in the ground or cremated. For all intents and purposes, that part of the investigation is done.”

“Could we really just waltz into the coroner's place and demand a to look at the body? Or even a copy of the autopsy results?” Devin asks after finally clearing out his cup of ramen.

“Not necessarily demand a copy, but buy one. I do know for a fact that the coroner herself – Dr. Hess – has been rather cooperative in the past when the right price is offered, so she's no stranger to dealing with the Sanada-gumi.”

“Damn, even the coroner's dirty in this town, huh?” Devin remarks with his eyebrows lifted in modest surprise.

“Is this going to be an expensive transaction?” Atreus asks, anticipating a hit on his wallet.

“For a copy of the autopsy report? I don't think so,” Ryuji shakes his head with utmost certainty. “I've seen her be asked to falsify certain details of a report though, and that definitely cost a pretty penny.”

Atreus pauses to think about approaching the coroner. It's somewhat risky, considering how physically close the building is to the police precinct, and it might cost him a decent amount of money despite no guarantee of any truly useful information being on the report. However, with no other reasonable paths to take, he'll just have to try.

“I guess we have to,” the reluctant gangster says with a sigh. “To be frank, we don't even know if Takiyama is truly connected to the murder; his disappearance might be a total coincidence that we zeroed in on out of cluelessness. Cracking open his phone is honestly a total crapshoot, so seeing the coroner would give us something tangible and actually related to the crime.” The microwave suddenly plays a short jingle after the timer hits zero, and he pulls his mug of hot water out to pour it into the foam cup of hard, uncooked noodles and preserved bits of chicken.

“Has Bessho contacted you about anything yet?” Devin asks.

“No, not yet,” Atreus answers as he retrieves his own pair of steel chopsticks from a drawer next to the sink and proceeds to sit on the chair adjacent to the couch, waiting for his noodles to soften. “He mentioned how there were still drones buzzing around the Hoshino office even after the cops left, so he's probably being really careful about when he contacts other clan members; his phone might be tapped.”

“With the murder taking place in Hoshino family territory, Bessho probably can't even take a piss without the police knowing about it,” Ryuji brusquely remarks. “And it'll probably stay that way for a while unless evidence directs them to a different culprit. It's best to just assume that help from Bessho will be pretty minimal, as well.”

“So, I guess we're heading to the coroner's place today?” Devin asks as he stands to throw away the empty ramen cup and wash his chopsticks.

“We'll leave once I'm done eating, then,” Atreus announces as he begins to listlessly stir the noodles and stare into the lightly colored broth. “We'll have to stop by the bank so I can withdraw some cash. It's probably best to not give the coroner money through my phone,” he still has some reservations about the idea, but it's better than sitting on his hands and crossing his fingers that the phone can pull a miracle and instantly lead them to where they need to go.

About fifteen minutes later, after Atreus completes his paltry, yet appreciated feast of ramen noodles, he and Devin emerge from the building and summon a ride to take them to the nearest bank, which is south, just outside the boundary of Kyoba. The driverless taxi pulls into a populated parking lot, but doesn't yet leave. Atreus temporarily removes his Sanada-gumi pin so reduce the risk of unnecessary attention, and exits the vehicle. Instead of entering the building proper, he approaches one of several outdoor ATMs lined up shoulder to shoulder near the entrance. He retrieves his phone to scan a QR code on the screen of it at the kiosk, and begins to withdraw three hundred dollars in cash. He isn't completely sure how much of a hard bargain the coroner is going to drive, but he figures he might as well prepare a bit more than he expects, just in case.

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The ATM relinquishes fifteen twenty-dollar bills – the fancy new editions featuring a detailed portrait of John F. Kennedy in cool temperature colors that stretch the long way of the banknote's shape, as opposed to the landscape orientation that had been used for a long time. A silver-colored security strip covers the bottom of the picture, with the word 'TWENTY' faintly recognizable inside it when under the light. Various patriotic symbols decorate the background of the design, shifting between each other when viewed from different angles. What's more, every single note has a unique sequence of hidden numbers and letters scattered along the entire back side, revealed only under the illumination of a blacklight.

Atreus quickly retrieves the collection of bills, folds them in half, stuffs them in his pocket, and ends the transaction. He promptly returns to the silver Automa sedan and the two men begin the second part of their ride: to the coroner. After naming their destination, the vehicle exits the parking lot and finds itself on the busy noon Los Angeles streets again. Atreus leans toward the panel in the center of the dashboard, and begins altering the car's route by hand.

“What are you doing?” Devin asks, perplexed at the sight.

“Changing the route so we don't pass the police station on the way,” Atreus answers as he completes the new itinerary. “Call me paranoid, but the more we avoid it, the better. It should drop us off around the nearby corner on the opposite side, then we'll take a short walk to the coroner's,” he sits back in sit and anxiously awaits their arrival.

About fifteen minutes later, the scenic route to the coroner's office is complete, and their ride drops them off around the corner on the opposite side of where the police station is, allowing a relatively inconspicuous approach to their destination. To be extra careful, they keep their pins off.

“How do you want to do this?” Devin asks before they even start walking. “I haven't really cut deals with coroners before. I'm just used to beating up chumps and taking their money, for the most part.”

“Just stay calm, and we'll handle it like any other type of deal,” Atreus gives blunt advice.

They turn the nearby street corner and proceed to a single-floor white building with a small parking lot that has a long patch of lush grass separating it from the sidewalk. A large, tempered glass sign about as tall as Atreus is standing in one side of the small, green yard proudly displays 'Dr. Natalie Hess & Dr. Montgomery Wiles – Coroners' in a tasteful serif script that pulsates with a blueish-green and purple gradient. Along the road are other clinics and a hospital, but further down they can see the distant black and white exteriors of police cruisers in the precinct parking lot. The two men pick up the pace and enter the coroner's office with haste, just shy of breaking into a jog.

Inside, the two gangsters are graced with the almost unsettlingly white, sterile interior of the lobby – white granite tiles, bare white walls, white ceilings, stainless steel chairs with curved but cushion-less seats. The place ironically reeks of death in spite of its own cleanliness.

“Can I help you?” a high-pitched feminine voice greets them – the clueless receptionist at the nearby counter, a short-haired blonde woman likely no older than twenty-four at most. The metal tag pinned to her chest says 'Amanda'.

Atreus casually approaches her. “We're looking for Dr. Hess. It's urgent,” he calmly states, putting subtle emphasis in the final two words.

Amanda seems dumbstruck for a brief moment before answering, “Um, do you... have an appointment?” she asks as she studies them and their formal attire, which somehow makes them look intimidating instead of business-oriented.

Atreus takes his pin from him pocket, holding it between his index finger and thumb, and presents the face of it it to the oblivious young woman.

“It's urgent,” he restates.

The glint of the gold pin draws her gazes, and, realizing who the two men are, she becomes rigid with fear for a second before finally finding her tongue again.

“H-Her office is down the hall... Third door to the left,” giving little resistance as if instructed to do so, she turns to point at the black door behind her leading deeper into the building.

“Thank you,” Atreus gives his gratitude before he passes the counter and proceeds into the hallway behind the door, with Devin following close behind.

The hall is just as barren and spotless as the lobby. There's an immediate path to the right that leads to other rooms, which they ignore and proceed forward, passing a handful of doors before reaching one that has 'Dr. Natalie Hess' emblazoned on it, next to a semi-opaque glass pane that stretches as tall as the wall and six feet along it. Atreus gives Devin a quick glance to ensure they're both ready for a hopefully diplomatic deal, and lifts arm to give a two firm knocks with his alloy knuckles. They hear the sound of heels clacking against tile on the other side, and after a turn of the lever, the door swings open. They come face to face with a slightly older woman in her mid-thirties, with caramel skin and naturally curly dark brown hair tied in a high ponytail, rectangular wireframe glasses, and a white coat.

“Who...” she begins her initial response to the gangsters' presence with an expression of bewilderment, but realizes who they may be, even without seeing the pins for herself. Then, her face becomes one of slight annoyance. “I figured it was a matter of time before I got visit from one of you. Hurry up and get in, and close the door behind you,” she commands with a sudden burst of authoritativeness as she turns and returns to her desk.

The two men walk in, with Devin shutting the door as told. Natalie's office isn't terribly unlike the rest of the building – uncomfortably sterile, save for her paperwork-littered desk that adds some semblance of personality to the room. The razor-thin computer monitor and framed video loops of family members add color to the otherwise monochromatic eyesore. She sits down behind her desk, while the two men opt to continue standing.

“I haven't seen your faces before, so I'm going to guess you're not part of the Hoshino family, right?” Natalie astutely surmises as she reaches into her desk drawer to retrieve a tin box of cannabis joints. “Usually, Bessho comes to see me personally when it involves a victim of one of theirs hits,” she places a joint in her mouth and leans forward to reach for a lighter, but is stopped by Atreus igniting a small flame with the lighter inside his right pinky and holding it up to her.

“We're not with the Hoshino family,” he readily admits, “but we work closely with them sometimes.”

The doctor looks at him with intense curiosity before leaning her head forward slightly to light the tip of her joint. As she takes a lengthy drag, she leans back and gives both men a studious gaze. She gently lets out a cloud of smoke from her open mouth and turns to the wall at her left. She glides her fingertip against a glassy surface mounted to it at eye level, displaying a touchscreen meter, dragging the needle all the way to the right. The semi-opaque glass pane next to the door becomes very dark, but it is still possible to look from the inside, out.

“Since you're new here, I'll let you know firsthand that I don't like walk-ins,” Natalie stoically reprimands them. “If you want to come see me, you better call me first. You're lucky you didn't crash any sort of important meeting – god forbid, one with the police, at that. Get me?”

Atreus nods, “Sorry about that.”

“So, let's get this started,” the doctor takes another drag and lets it out as she adjusts herself in her seat. “You're here about Will Camlin, right? What do you need done? Want something in the report changed? They're gonna pay a visit later today, so whatever you need, you better say it quick.”

“No, we're here for a copy of the report, not to ask you to falsify any of it.”

“What?” Natalie takes the joint out of her mouth, mid-puff, in confusion. “Didn't the Sanada-gumi do him in?”

Atreus shakes his head, “We don't know if someone inside the clan did it, but if so, then they did it without any sort of permission from the top. The Sanada-gumi doesn't want to be blamed for this mess, so I need to find the killer before the police do. Also, since you know Bessho on a first name basis, I should let you know that the cops do believe someone in the Hoshino family is responsible for the murder, so they're keeping a rather close eye on him. He wouldn't be able to come here himself even if he needed to.”

“Well, shit. This got interesting,” a crooked smirk of amusement crosses her face. “What's your name?”

“Atreus Watanabe. Asano family."