[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://shootingthescript.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/machete-2.jpg?w=455&h=300[/img][hr][b][color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] The Morgue 
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	Caesar's eyes narrowed at Dr. Brinne, giving her a once-over with a suspicious glare. Things were cautious enough, so it took him a second or two to fully understand that [i]he[/i] was the interloper here, coming into their workplace with beer and pizza in a manner that could be construed as unprofessional. He frowned a little, then nodded and accepted her greeting. [color=orangered]"Gracias, doctor. I am also interested in making sure Miss Ashworth is standing when this is done, too."[/color] Thinking about it, of the group that went to the Derby with Caesar, everyone except for the two of them was either dead or missing. 

	Despite accepting her greeting and condolences, Caesar remained wary. Just because she was being open and sympathetic, he did not feel the need to share too much in the way of non-case personal information. It was enough that she knew of his intent to keep Cecily breathing, the "whys" of the situation shouldn't concern her. If Cecily wanted to share, that was her business. 

	[color=orangered]"That other woman there, Lorna..."[/color] started Caesar, looking over at the exam tables, [color=orangered]"She isn't blood, but she is familia. Also my employee. I can get you the information on her next of kin, if you need it. We are obviously investigating her death, too."[/color]

	Then to Cecily, [color=orangered]"Another of my employees has been murdered. I don't know if it's related, and I don't know the coroner up that way. Timing is coincidental. I would like your permission to have the body brought here for autopsy."[/color]





[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://www.fansofk1.com/uploads/fighters/944031915_S17_PUDZIAN_8.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Security employee lounge -> Gymnasium, with entourage
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	Oh, the less active of the MSS grunt personnel had no idea who their Acting Director was, no idea at all. For many of them, it was a first meeting. A very loud, potentially productive first meeting. The Cockney giant caused all manner of uproar, spewing profanities likely never heard previously in the city of Justice, possibly even the state of California. 

	Keystone was a bit more than a common bruiser; his time with the company had given him a less tangible skill set in matters of security protocol. Coupled with years of arduous training in Europe and mainland China, he was a formidable trainer, as well. And thanks to his formative years, growing up in the less savory parts of East London, he was a frightening man with a curious grip on profanity. The security personnel who seemed to know their positions and were working diligently (also one of the ones who tipped him off to the lazy inaction of many of the staffers) were largely left alone. But the others... 

	A short hop away, in the Complex's gymnasium, sounds of violence and disapproval could be heard. None dared actually enter the gym, but outside, a crowd gathered to peer through tiny windows and tinier cracks, eager to witness what sounded like a highly loquatious bobby/drill instructor putting a group of Americans through a meat grinder. Those who could not glimpse the horror firsthand were left to merely imagine what was transpiring inside. The yelling, clearly audible even away from the gym, left much to the imagination. 

	[color=b8860b]"Oi! Stop twattin' about! Get up and do it again!"

	"You've only thrown up twice! Stop your bullshite milquetoastery and [b]hammer that bag![/b]"

	"Keep pushing! Go! Go! You call those pectorals? I've seen bigger tits on a ten-year-old! GO!"

	"Ey! You stop again and I'll sandpaper your arsehole with the bloody treadmill!"

	"Oh, did you lot cock up, and royal ya did, thinkin' you could laze about after Miss Dunn's passing and all. Bloody disgrace you're making to 'er memory, 'ers and Miss Gonzalez both! You lot right and proper buggered the goat on this one, but it's alright. I'm gonna fix it up nice and tidy-like. We'll be the best trained, most disciplined sons and daughters of bastiches this side of the pond, I tell you what, and we're gonna make them proud, or I'm puttin' my boot up all of your arses and processing your walking papers. Get me? [b]Do you bloody get me?[/b]"[/color]

	The sounds of heavy crashing and hand to hand combat could be heard from within. Occasional slams upon the walls hinted at hurled bodies, though the vast majority of persons not in the room would never know the truth. The rare few who were able to witness the whole spectacle were the guards on duty, watching the surveillance video. It was a riotous laugh, for the less disciplined, and required viewing for the moreso. Perhaps he would use it one day as an instructional video. 

	To be fair, Keystone was pushing them hard, but was careful to avoid anything resembling actual injury. His goal was to inspire terror and discipline, not harm. And speaking of terror: [color=b8860b]"Oh, if you lot thought Miss Dunn was an 'ard trainer, you never met a bloke like me. AND I GUARANTEE, if I'm snuffed off anytime soon, the [i]next[/i] bugger what gets this job is gonna be [i]so much worse[/i]. Already made the calls, I did."[/color]