[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] On the Road, Justice Memorial Hospital - Exterior 
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	While the grizzled Mexican would have preferred to feel the wind in his hair, the laws of the land stated that he had to keep a [url=http://images.esellerpro.com/2189/I/434/57/Viper-RS-44-Skull-Motorcycle-Helmet-Black-1.jpg]helmet[/url] strapped firmly around his head. In his estimation, these laws were in place to protect the Motorcycle Helmet Industry and appease various motherly organizations, possibly leading to the eventual evolution of a thinner skulled race of humanity, incapable of even the simplest of beer can crushery and/or decent, nose-breaking headbutt. It sickened and disgusted the elder man; a man who in earlier years had sworn to uphold the law - all laws of the land, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. Even bullshit helmet laws. Of course, it wasn't exactly [i]this land[/i], persay, but the concept was the same. 

	Then again, it could just be that he didn't feel like wearing a helmet just then. And a tendency to overreact. 

	He cruised the streets of Justice, more or less making a direct path to the hospital. Caesar wasn't fully accustomed to the layout of the city yet, but routes from the Diamond District and a major city hospital were easy to find and clearly marked. Give Justice this, the roads were easier to navigate than his native Monterrey. The occasional look he got from passersby in this more moneyed district, being as he didn't look nor dress in the manner that his financial status might indicate, was something he had gotten used to over time. Didn't stop him from the occasional uncomfortable stare or quick hand gesture, though. He was comfortable in his own skin. It gave him some marginal pleasure to turn around the discomfort that others sought to inflict upon him. 

	By the time he had reached his third or fourth traffic light, his satellite phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking advantage of the pause allowed by the red illumination, Caesar checked his messages. Another from Detective Gregory. Apparently, Roy Gregory was actually Cecily, the young lady he was supposed to be meeting with that day anyway. This was fortuitous, possibly for more than one reason. He considered another quick message before the light changed, but at this point the phone was likely back in the Detective's hands. 

	A few minutes later, Caesar pulled his [url=http://angloisrael.com/reversetrike/scorpion-vrod16.jpg]trike[/url] up to the entrance of the hospital. He removed his helmet and gave Detective Gregory a stoic nod, then tossed the spare helmet to Cecily. [color=orangered]"Oye, niña. I was about to get some food. It's on me if you want to join. But you're still riding bitch seat."[/color]



[hider=Translations]
Oye, niña	=	Hey listen, girl (in an informal tone, like a greeting or casual call to attention)
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