[hr][center][h2][color=orangered]Respawning in: ...3 ...2 ...1[/color][/h2]
[b]Colab With:[/b] [@Charnobylisk] [@Lady Amalthea][/center][hr]

	The grizzled Mexican sat up in his bed with at start, teeth bared underneath a handlebar moustache that would have splintered plywood with its magnificence, coupled with the force of his emergence into the waking world. He white-knuckle clenched a worn but polished machete in one hand ([i]Christ, does he [b]sleep[/b] with the thing?[/i]), his other balled into a fist. Hazel eyes darted about, blurry with sleep, attempting to find a target for angry, martial attentions. 

	His eyes widened as the shackles of nocturnal rest began to fall away. A pain - phantom pain, really, like the memory of an old trauma hauling back long put-aside sensory information, exploded on the back of his neck. Before he realized, he had already slapped a hand to cover the sensation. With an odd feeling of guttural anxiety, slowly waking eyes came level to his palm, questioning. 

	The older man expected to see blood. When he did not, his brain clicked to the "Mostly Awake" setting. What the hell was going on? He took a mental assessment of his situation. His name was Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez. He was in his new apartment in Justice, California. He was in town on business, kinda, and his daughter lived in the next building over. 

	[color=orangered]"M'hija!"[/color]

	Alicia pulled out a pan of enchiladas that she had been working on all morning, well it wasn't the first pan. There were several. The little Taco Belle was rather excited about the block party that was happening that evening. She hadn't ever been to one but she had friends in Seattle and back east that had. She had given them all calls and drilled them on the protocol. The number one suggestion, bring food because there was never enough. Considering when her and Papi got together with Lorna they would eat two pans between the three of them she figured it was a good idea to make a lot more. Placing the pan on a towel that rested on the kitchen counter she shoved another pan into the oven and hip checked it closed. 

	[color=82ca9d]"Cookie! Where did you put the mole sauce I made the other day?"[/color] she yelled out to her roomie as she rummaged through the refrigerator. Shoving aside several cases of beer and left overs she finally found it buried in the back. Reaching in she grabbed it. Lorna heard Alicia calling out and then the tell tale rustling and clinking of a fridge being raided. She opened her mouth to reply but was quickly cut off.  [color=82ca9d]"Never mind, found it!"[/color] Shrugging, Lorna went back to reading her copy of "Blades Galore: Machete Special", her feet propped up on the coffee table.

	Caesar fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and frantically smashed his index finger onto the picture of his daughter, Alicia, knocking over a mostly empty bottle of Patrón in the process. Five nerve wracking, finger tapping rings later, the line opened on the other end. Taking the initiative (and managing a breach of telephone etiquette in the process), he blurted out, [color=orangered]"M'hija? M'hija, are you ok? I had a [i]really[/i] fucked-up dream you got pulled out of a truck and eaten - wanted to make sure you were okay. You okay?"[/color]

	Alicia pulled the phone away from her ear as her father yelled from the other side before putting it back to her ear. [color=82ca9d]"Papi, what the fuck are you babbling about? Eaten? Who ate me?"[/color] she asked before covering up the microphone of her phone and looking over towards Lorna. [color=82ca9d]"I think Papi has done lost it. Not in a go gut a pendejo way, like mentally."[/color] Putting the phone on speaker she looked back down at the phone. [color=82ca9d]"Papi... did you stay up late last night drinking tequila and watching The Walking Dead again?"[/color] Snorting at Alicia's side of the conversation, Lorna closed her magazine over and placed it on the coffee table. She sat forward and watched Alicia from her perch on the sofa. 

	Back on the other end of the line, Caesar squinted his eyes at the soft, cool glow of the flatscreen television on the wall opposite him in the room. It was set to a simply colored DVR screen; blue background with rounded, white letters, patiently waiting for input from the beleaguered Mexican, prompting him with the unwavering suggestion: "[u]AMC - The Walking Dead - Play next episode?[/u]" 

	Still clutching his machete, Caesar reached over to set upright the bottle of Patrón he had knocked over a moment ago. He exhaled heavily and swung his feet over the side of the bed, settling them into a pair of white bunny slippers upon the floor. ...stay up late drinking tequila and watching The Walking Dead... [color=orangered]"Umm.. No?"[/color] he answered unconvincingly. 

	[color=olive]"Alicia, tell Papi he needs to cut down to a bottle a night instead of two. Who the fuck dreams about people being eaten? Now being fucking shot through the chest, [i]that[/i] is a normal nightmare."[/color] Lorna patted the spot just above her heart and rubbed it as a sudden pain shot through her heart. [color=olive]"Well that feels fucking weird. Oi Leash, we got anything for heartburn?"[/color]

	[color=82ca9d]"Better than having your neck cut by that chick from Resident Evil,"[/color] Alicia quipped as she tossed the bottle of rolaids over to Lorna. Grabbing it in mid-air, Lorna necked a couple before placing the bottle on the coffee table beside her prior reading material.

	Caesar heard Lorna's comment, a thing that would ordinarily cause him great annoyance. For some reason, hearing her voice also gave him a fleeting sense of relief. [color=orangered]"Ey, is that Cookie? She doing good, too? I, ah... think I remember something... Look, M'hija, I'm feeling a little strange. I'm gonna find something to get into. What's my niña doing today?"[/color] He took a pull from his bottle, savoring the subtle flavors of his 80 proof breakfast. 

	[color=82ca9d]"Aye Papi, Cookies fine. We're just getting ready for the block party. Get over here and help me with the fucking taquitos, they ain't gonna cook themselves,"[/color] she said with a smirk as she looked over to Lorna. Lorna simply rolled her eyes and shrugged, muttering to herself. [color=olive]"Well I ain't a bloody cook..."[/color] Taking a deep breath Alicia smelled something and screamed. Miscommunication is a bad thing. Intentional, unintentional, doesn't matter. Information is not passed along, is altered, and/or context gets lost. It was precisely this last difficulty, context, that led Caesar to perform certain actions following his only daughter screaming, [color=82ca9d]"Fuck me!!"[/color] as she dropped her phone, the phone clattering to the floor and the call going dead. After the nigh premonition/past life regression dream he still hadn't shaken, coupled with his natural protective instincts, the most logical conclusion the venerable warrior could come to involved him finding the source of his M'hija's alarm and destroying it in the most violent, splattering manner possible. And so, he rose. 

	[color=82ca9d]"My enchiladas!"[/color] she yelped as she ran over to the oven and pulled out a nearly burned batch.

	Lorna fell back onto the sofa and laughed at the look on Alicia's face, snorting as she laughed harder the moment she saw the burnt remains. [color=olive]"Shall we order out for Taco Bell, my dear Taco Belle?"[/color] Lorna smirked and jumped over the back of the sofa, awaiting the inevitable assault of projectiles from Alicia's direction for her dumb comment. Alicia glared over towards Lorna as she hipped checked the oven closed and started to walk towards her roommate, still holding the bubbling burnt pan of Mexican cuisine. [color=82ca9d]"Come here, I'm about to make a savory cookie."[/color] Snorting, Lorna held her hands up in defeat. [color=olive]"C'mon now, Leash. Y'know I've a sweet tooth an'all. Lets not be hasty..."[/color] The childish smile was one that she only ever used when she was messing around with Alicia.

	Caesar rose from his bed, still clutching his machete and almost empty bottle of tequila. He started at a sprint, moving with the speed and ferocity of a cheetah beset with chronic intestinal distress gunning for the crapper. In scant seconds, he had bounded out of his basement apartment and onto the street above, a constant animalistic growl growing to a deafening roar, announcing his presence before he exploded into the general public clad only in a pair of smiley face boxers and fuzzy, white, bunny slippers. The Power of 'Stache compels him; it was a formidable power indeed.

	Suffice it to say, it was not taken well. Lawson slowly looked over from the smoker, his baby blue eyes peering through the cloud of smoke wafting up from the wood, trying to fan it away. He really couldn't be seeing what he was seeing, could he? [color=fff79a]"That be the most confusing thang I done seen since Ma tried to rope a turkey with slinky. What the hell that man be up to?"[/color]

	The elder man's tattoos, visible for the first time by most of his new neighbors, seemed to ripple and seethe with rage as his long, dark hair screamed behind him, not unlike tassels on a little girl's ubersatanic bike handlebars. The roar continued with the same level of terror inspiring gusto, never pausing, never ebbing, as he ran the few meters down the street necessary to gain access to his daughter's apartment. Alicia stepped closer to Lorna, about to throw the entire pan at the Marine when all hell broke loose. 

	A single fuzzy, white bunny hovered in the air for a half-second before smashing open her front door. Splinters twisted in the wake of the wooden portal's murder as it exploded open, revealing to those inside the feral and vorpal outline of an almost naked Caesar, screaming to any and all within earshot, [color=orangered]"AAAAAAAAHH!!! DADDY'S HERE, M'HIJA! IT'S STABBING TIME!"[/color]

	Alicia jumped, [color=82ca9d]"THE FUCK!!!!"[/color]. The pan went up into the air as she reached under the side table next to the couch for her pistol. The saucy concoction of burnt cheese and corn tortilla flew out of the pan, hitting the wall and splattering every where and on everyone like Napalm. [color=82ca9d]"It burns!!!"[/color] she screamed as she tried to wipe away the red sauce from her eyes and hair and everything else. Stumbling over the coffee table and falling right through it as it gave way under her. 

	Lorna saw [i]everything[/i] pretty much exploding and she froze in sheer shock at the sight of Caesar busting his way through their door practically naked. The pan flying in the air caught her attention enough that she rose her hands up to shield her face before her body crumpled into a ball on the ground as she tried to protect herself behind the sofa from all the projectiles. The splinters from the door flew everywhere and she could feel a couple bits hitting against her as the searing hot sauce landed on her exposed arms, hands and down the back of her neck through her hair. [color=olive]"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK! YA GOD DAMN BASTARD, THIS BURNS!"[/color] Lorna grabbed a pillow from the sofa and began to wipe the sauce away with the side of the cover that hadn't been caked in sauce. If it weren't Papi and Alicia that had been the culprits of her discomfort, Lorna may well have just belted someone. But these two got a free pass.

	[color=82ca9d]"Papi!!! ¡Qué mierda! ¿Qué carajo crees que estás haciendo?"[/color] Alicia bellowed as she tried to get up from the remains of her poor table, may it rest in peace. Rolling out of the debris she slowly stood up, pulling queso cheese from her hair as she looked over to her father. [color=82ca9d]"Papi... You gots some 'splanin' to do..."[/color] Lorna blinked at the Spaniard exchange and shrugged. [color=olive]"Why is it that I still don't know any Spanish after living with ya for so long?"[/color] Taking her skip cap off, Lorna noticed the mass amount of cheese that had slapped on top of it. Well she wasn't gonna be wearing that today it seemed, not unless she wanted to look like a literal side dish. 

	Shaking her head to try and dislodge bits of food, Lorna looked over to the father-daughter combo and rose her hands up before slapping them off each other, as if getting rid of dust. [color=olive]"I'm out. Papi, mornin' to ya but I can't stand here and look at ya practically starkers, so I'm  gonna get this shit outta my hair 'fore it dries in. I'll get the skinny later and help clean up once I'm clean. Try not t'kill each other."[/color] With that, Lorna wandered into the bathroom and started the shower up. She looked at the bottle of dye that she'd been considering using and figured it was time for a change. Her hair was looking a little too post-apocalyptic these days anyway, time to freshen up before she looked even more like the living dead.

	Caesar surveyed the scene of broken wood and spatially rearranged Mexican entree. He was breathing heavily, hastily looking around for the first thing and/or person he was going to vivisect. Sadly, there was no target to be had here. Alicia had crashed through her coffee table, but not before dousing him (and everything else) in scalding enchilada sauce. His aggressive concern over his daughter's safety abated, flowing away from one heartbeat to the next. It was replaced by profound irritation. 

	[color=orangered]"God DAMNIT M'hija! Why the fuck you gonna scare me like that?! [i]What the hell is wrong with you?[/i] Qué chingados, M'hija?"[/color] 

	[color=82ca9d]"¿YO? No soy el hombre entró por la puerta como maldito Kool-Aid puta!"[/color] Alicia exclaimed as she pointed to the door and then put her hands to her head and pushed her damp sauce ridden hair back. [color=82ca9d]"My door Papi! You're paying for that! Fix it Papi!"[/color] she said as she went full Chica mode. 

	He noticed the fast retreating Lorna, recognizing she had concerns about her hair. True, she'd been looking a little frayed lately. Not "work is hectic" frayed, more like "Walking Dead casualty". Caesar quieted himself until she left the room to clean up, holding gaze with his daughter all the while. As his face came to hers Alicia froze, she knew that face. She was in deep churros now... He motioned at her with his blade and spoke with a slightly quieter, but no less grave voice. [color=orangered]"Alicia Maria Juanita Sophia Gonzalez, don't you ever scare me like that again."[/color] 

	Lowering her head she clasped her hands together in front of her like she was a small child, swaying back and forth. [color=82ca9d]"Ay Papi..."[/color] He lowered his machete and continued, [color=orangered]"I'm going to go get cleaned up. I'll be back in a little bit to help with..."[/color] He waved his bottle of Patrón about, [color=orangered]"...this."[/color]

	Caesar sighed, turning to step back out of the hole that used to be a solid, stable door. In a more cheerful voice, he called out, [color=orangered]"Be back in a little while, Cookie!"[/color] and returned to the street above. 

	Apparently, the sight of an older Mexican in smiley boxer shorts and fuzzy, white bunny slippers out in public was a spectacle. This particular spectacle carried a machete and a bottle of booze, a sticky red mystery fluid dripping from his face and arms; naturally it was ever-so-slightly offputting to the casual passerby. People stared. Instead of addressing each one individually or the lot of them as a group, Caesar singled out the nearest pedestrian he didn't know, shouting, [color=orangered][b]"Fuck you staring at, Asshair?"[/b][/color] before returning to his own home and slamming the door behind him. 

	Lawson just stood there with his wet basting brush, sauce dripping on the baby back ribs as he watched the entire scene unfold, his mouth agape. [color=fff79a]"Nothing sir,"[/color] he quickly said as he turned his attention back to the food and let out a rather quick breath as his eyebrows raised. [color=fff79a]"Not going for a tumble weed tango with that hombre.."[/color]

	Alicia flopped onto the couch and just surveyed the damage. Her door, her table, her poor enchiladas... Groaning she ran her finger along her cheek and pulled away from sauce on the tip. Shrugging she stuck it in her mouth to taste. [color=82ca9d]"Fucking shame..."[/color]

	Inside his apartment, Caesar retrieved his phone and hammered in Alica's landlord's number. From the street outside his building, the muffled exclamations of the older man could be readily heard, [color=orangered]"Culo! My daughter's front door suddenly exploded! Fucking fix it! ...and clean her carpet. It's a disgrace."[/color]