[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://media.giphy.com/media/wbomIbUs5Bc2I/giphy.gif[/img][hr][b]Location:[/b] General Vicinity of Gretchen Mortgage LLC Waterfront Storage
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	This could be nothing. The sort of ordinary, everyday use of storage space that happens every ordinary day. Stuff goes in, stuff comes out. Occasionally, a lady might need a couple of brutish Russian movers to unstack and load up the important, perilously heavy boxes of perfectly normal things. Ignore sudden spotting of the occasional suspicious death, all taking place in or around a series of buildings owned by the same company and/or person that may or may not have something to gain from people expiring messily. People around his daughter expiring messily. Either of them, adoptive or blood. No, no. Not his girls. Motherfuckers must pay. 

	[i]...the grizzled Mexican waited for his moment. They hadn't yet seen him, and he would make sure that one of them never would. The nanosecond that all three of them were facing away from him, Caesar struck. The first knife flew, seemingly of its own accord, streaking a frozen rope into the throat of the goon farthest from him. Panicked gurgling issued from the swiftly dying man, his hands clawing at the solid steel impaling his windpipe and jugular simultaneously. Both heads snapped around, all four eyes widening at the unexpected fate of their associate. The involuntary observation gave Caesar the extra moment he needed to sprint quietly behind the pair and drive his remaining knife into the other man's ribcage, puncturing his lung and sending him into a soundless scream. He used the embedded knife's handle as leverage, kicking high and hard at the temple of the woman and sending her into instantaneous naptime. A quick punch to the base of the second man's skull likewise rendered him unconscious, left to bleed to death, mercifully asleep. 

	He drug the corpses back into the open structure and removed their belts. While not perfect, they were adequate enough to restrain the knocked-out woman. Now that they had some time and privacy, Caesar was going to use every hard and sharp object at his disposal to get some answers - real answers - and soon...[/i]

 	He snapped out of his momentary daydream, quelling the rising feelings of raw aggression before they fully took the driver's seat of his braincase. Lucky for them (and probably him, if we're being honest), he had done a lot of work with his therapist concerning his mind numbing Impulse Control Issues. Before his therapist offed himself in a public bathroom, repeatedly mumbling something about "Mexican Wolverine" coming to steal his soul, anyway. Instead of succumbing to his baser instincts and committing himself to the next few minutes of brutal homicide and Days Of Yore torture, Caesar opted for a more technological, observant route. He was into security and investigation now, not the blind violence that marked the earlier decades of his life. 

	But dear, sweet, merciful Bacon he wanted to. One day at a time, old man. One day at a time. 

	Caesar moved to an angle appropriate to his surroundings, allowing vision but maintaining cover, and began collecting video, snapping the occasional silent still photo of everything he could about the scene unfolding near him. He had no idea who these people were, but others might. And he had to get back for that meeting with the forensic technician. No, collect information and go, at least for now. As much information as he could without giving up his position, in any case.