Rosario, deep in a directory from the early 2000s, sat up straight. Yeah, she'd been hoping, but after days of poring over the web, searching for every variation on Archer Goldenhawk's name she could think of and coming up empty, she'd been kind of doubting their chances. But there it was, in black and white: Archer Goldenhawk, with a mailing address and a job title, like a real, actual human being and not just some kind of on-campus cryptid.
"Yeah," she said, eyes brightening with interest. "Yeah, this absolutely helps." The address was out-of-date, and the firm might not even exist anymore, but they were data points, they put him on the map. Maybe there were real estate records. Maybe somebody from Spinelli whatever remembered him. It was something, anyway, after a whole lotta nothing.
Rosario snapped a photo of the page on her phone before returning to her own volume, paging through the Gs, past Gigante and Giorno, past Godbehere and Godkin and Godsmark, her eyes skimming over each glaring omen in pursuit of solid fact. Gold. Here it was. Goldbaum, Goldberg, Goldbury, Golden—
Goldenhawk, Archer (II).
"Oh shit," she said out loud. "Right here, this is Gen Two. Another Manhattan address... Head of Research, Actium Biomedical Laboratory." Her brows drew together when she reached those final two words, the parallel impossible to miss and not at all comforting.
Medical research. He'd studied medicine, like her.