[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://bodypower.loxblog.com/upload/b/bodypower/image/mariusz-pudzianowski.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Justice Airport [hr][hr][/center]

	His was the face of duty wrapped in abject boredom. It didn't take long to get there, either; boredom comes fast when you're waiting someplace you don't want to be, waiting on people you've never met, on behalf of an employer that was traveling a couple thousand miles away, to lay to rest a woman who was formative to his own introduction to and training within the Company. Maybe he would be able to pay his respects later on, after all of the foolishness in Justice died down. 

	Before Keystone found his way to Gate A17, he had to pull his vehicle around to the more public area of the airport. And seeing as he'd be entering "sterile areas", handled by the TSA in a manner that only they could, he was going to have to leave his toys in the car. Locked in the glove box, for whatever good that would do in case the car was hit by a rocket launcher (which could very well happen in this city, the rate things were going). The attention he was paid by the workaday personnel at the security checkpoints moving into the terminals was predictably thorough, as it usually was for a guy of his dimensions attempting to gain access to airport secure zones. After the first couple of checkpoints, he made it a point to wear his MSS credentials on the outside of his jacket. It helped some. He wasn't just some 500 lb gorilla in business tactical wear, he was a [i]professional[/i] 500 lb gorilla in business tactical wear. 

	It hit Keystone, in a moment of ugly yawning, that his sleep the previous night wasn't exactly quality. Before his eyelids decided to stage a rebellion, he stepped into the first Duty Free shop he saw and picked up a sixer of UberBeast Citrus Violation Energy Beverage[sub][color=ed1c24](*)[/color][/sub]. Despite it being illegal in five contemporary countries (four of those due to mandatory religious observations), it was one of the few things he could hork back that would actually effect him in any meaningful way. Not to disparage his experience with something he had stumbled across called "Southern Style Sweet Tea", a thing which, upon consumption, he was convinced was the key ingredient in crystal meth and likely accounted for the state of many long-term addicts' teeth. If he were honest with himself, however, he really did adore the stuff. He just couldn't find it made properly in California. Very sad. 

	So there he sat, back of his chair against a wall, scanning the area for potential threats (you know, for fun!) and waiting for his tech team's plane to arrive. Popping open a can of the fizzy, sleep-destroying soda, he took a tentative few sips and settled in for his moderate wait. 


[sub][color=ed1c24](*) "Now with [i]even more[/i] cheetah adrenaline [i]and[/i] cerebrospinal fluid!"[/color][/sub] 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://media.giphy.com/media/wbomIbUs5Bc2I/giphy.gif[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Justice Airport (and above) [hr][hr][/center] 

	Caesar sat for a few minutes, taking in all that was said to him from beyond the grave, yet again, by his daughter. One of the messages that he got from this video that stuck out was that not all of the women in Juno were downright evil. It made him think back to something that his contract holder in Justice had told him. It was something along the lines of her saying that both she and Alicia saw eye to eye on how they wanted things to proceed, and hoping that they could come to a similar understanding. Not to mention that Gretchen lady, whose death was a little too suspicious. Caesar had given some consideration to simply snatching up the first member of Juno known to him and keep putting knives and fire to her until he found out enough information to begin his own killing spree. He had some measure of gladness that he did not; if there were the possibility that he only had to viciously murder [i]most[/i] of them, it would be easier. Moreso if he had the help of some of the others, if they were allies of his daughter. 

	It looked to be a longish flight, so far as flights went. He'd been in a plane for longer than six hours before, lots of times, but it was not his preferred means of travel. But while he was thinking of it, there were a couple of points to bring up with his guests before they landed, and by extension, before he went to sleep before they landed. [color=orangered]"Natasha, Cecily... Thank you for coming. If you've never been to Mexico, I need to tell you, the weapons laws are stricter there than here. I can carry because I have history and licensing. I don't think we'll be in the country long enough for me to push through permits for you, either. If you two get caught and I can't bribe the right people, there could be problems. Best to leave anything on the plane."[/color] It went without saying that they would be surrounded by armed and pissed off members of the Gonzalez clan, alongside local MSS personnel when after they landed. It was an odd time, and Monterrey was full of its own dangers and problems. Still, Caesar felt a little better about their safety, being away from Justice for a day or two. 

	[color=orangered]"There's a bar, and movies, and food... and other stuff on this plane. Mi casa es, right? I'm going to get a little sleep."[/color] Absently, he wondered who would be there to meet them after they landed in Monterrey.