[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://i.deccoria.strefa.com.pl/files/9632/4600/b5a4e55e255f8564682cc8b413ba49ec.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Chicago Heights Apartments (Home) -> Justice Airport
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	Keystone awoke to find the television asking him in bold, white letters whether or not he wanted to play the next episode of iZombie, eyes squinting against the unfamiliar light. He didn't recall passing out late the previous evening, but considering the uncomfortable angle of his neck he surmised that it wasn't really his idea. Something else that wasn't likely his idea; he felt the warmth of a living person under his left hand. [color=b8860b][i]"Nope. Nopenopenopenope.... and Nope. This ain't 'appening [b]again[/b]."[/i][/color] he thought to himself as his eyes slammed open, afraid that he had broken another rule concerning improper fraternization. [color=b8860b][i]Damn bloody damn buggerfrig damnit.[/i][/color] Maybe it was his underclass charm, capped of by a distinct lack of manners that sometimes served in an ironic social capacity. Perhaps his occasional irresistibility had something to do with his ox-like pheromones, which when triggered give him an almost intangible aroma resembling a combination of Old Spice and grilled steak. Who knew? Truly a mystery for the ages. 

	As his eyes adjusted to the blue and white light emanating from the DVR selections across the room, he risked a look to the side. Yes, Cecily was there, fast asleep and fully clothed. She looked almost as uncomfortable as he did. Between their state of un-nudity and empty dishes still on the coffee table, Keystone breathed a long sigh of relief. He chuckled silently for a moment, and pulled himself to a stand. A quick look to the clock told him that they didn't have to be on the road for a little while, so he gathered their dishes from the previous evening and, as quietly as he could, bussed them to the kitchen. 

	Risking a bit of time, the broad pugilist preheated his over withdrew a leftover calzone from the refrigerator. It wasn't exactly the perfect breakfast for a guest, but time [i]was[/i] a factor that morning, even if they had some wiggle room. Still, cutting the big, meaty pocket into thick slices and baking it again, while not exactly the fitting visage of an English Breakfast, would suffice in a way that toast and coffee simply could not. And as no morning ritual in a proper British household (or even his, for that matter) could not exist without tea, Keystone set a full kettle on the stove and pulled a box of loose black tea from his cupboard, and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower and change into more tactical, work related attire, including a rarely utilized set of form fitting secure armor. It seemed logical, considering the rising body count and him being the last person in Justice that Caesar knew he could trust with his company, despite his lack of experience running something this large. 

	By the time the kettle was singing and the calzone slices nice and hot, Keystone had attired appropriately to that of a Security Agent, and with it came the desire to keep to a schedule. 

	When their schedule brought the two of them to the tarmac, Keystone gave a small grin at Cecily's suggestion about repeating their iZombie binge. It was something that had nothing whatsoever to do with the various social engagements to which he was generally accustomed, thanks to the nature of his work. No heavy drinking, no massive violence, no unabashed pursuit of vigorous pre-marital interaction. Just a meal, bottle of decent wine, and a crapton of entertaining storyline. [color=b8860b]"We should that, Miss Cecily. I'll see what I can arrange for whenever y'get back."[/color] He handed over one of his cards containing his business cell number, and saw his charge as far as airport security. 

	Keystone returned to his Ramcharger and took a quick jaunt over to the more common areas of the airport, specifically following the signs taking him to Arrivals. In about another hour or so, he needed to be present to represent the company for the arrival of key members of the company Tech team, flying in from Seattle. He wasn't even sure how many were showing up, so there was the possibility he'd have to charter a shuttle. And figure out lodging, if needed. Well, that could wait until later in the day. For now, all he had on his plate was to hang out and waste a little time before the United flight from SeaTac was due, and assert himself accordingly. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/742397576704450560/gEkBVdZ-_400x400.jpg[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Boston Heights -> Justice Airport [hr][hr][/center] 

	Caesar slept lightly and rose early, the unintentional side effect of dealing with a boatload of personal grief mixed with equal parts of rage. He kept it to himself mostly, tucked away as one might palm a knife, waiting for an opportune moment to lash out and impale someone truly deserving of it. His lack of a full night's rest this morning was due in no small part to the fact that he maintained his concern about someone trying to access his apartment via the tunnel system below. The search last night had apparently brought up nothing of use. Either the hatch wasn't accessible from this end, or he just couldn't find it. He would definitely make another attempt when he returned home. 

	As he rose early and traveled relatively light, the elder Mexican was ready and out of his door as the sun was cresting the horizon. He mounted his trike and roared off into the gradual light of the coming morning, headed for the Justice airport. He had a plane to catch. The traffic was fairly light, so far as California went. 

	If he was going to be away from town for any length of time, he was going to have to arrange for private, long-term parking. There was no way in hell Caesar was leaving his personal conveyance back in Boston Heights (of all places) while he was gone for a few days. He was fairly certain that it would be stuffed full of explosives, stripped, or just stolen outright. Enclosed storage at the airport would suffice nicely, but added time until he could get to his private plane and get into the air. He was eager to get underway. 

	By the time he has traversed the airport from long term storage to his private plane, Cecily had already been escorted on board. Then he got the unique honor of getting his heart ripped from his chest once again as Alicia had left him another message. Written [i]and[/i] recorded this time, he savored the bittersweet memory of his daughter as she dispensed more coded speech that only he, or someone very close to him, might understand. An Angel holds the key, a Father has a secret, and laying her to rest will hold the future. And get to killing as liberally as possible, but be advised that some of these Juno women weren't quite as evil as originally thought. Two bucks sad that the casualties in their ranks, or at least the one he was sure of, was one of those women. 

	He responded to the last bit of her message vocally, intoning [color=orangered]"I love you too, M'hija."[/color] He cleared his throat and spoke to the front of the cabin in a louder voice, [color=orangered]"Alright, let's get this plane in the air."[/color]