[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] Landing in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico [hr][hr][/center]

	Seats and tray tables to their original upright position. Glasses collected. Everything from the point of view of air travel professionalism was stored, locked away, or otherwise made orderly. The work done by the attendant was fast and clean, impressive by the standards of airline service persons. His company hired well, in this regard. Caesar was not in a position to really notice or care about the work she was doing, his mind was elsewhere. 

	Landing in his old hometown had a way of making the situation more real, or at least more present. This was no longer a trip to take care of something important later, this was the beginning of that thing happening [i]now[/i]. He had wept for Alicia's passing, and in fact would do so more before this trip was over. Now, the heavy weight of familial responsibility just seemed to drain what personality he had away from him. Cold, solid autopilot mode saw him through collecting his belongings from the plane and, when they pulled into a private hangar, plodding his way down the short staircase to the cement floor below. 

	Taking that first step upon the firmament was a mildly momentous occasion for Caesar. It was the first time in a very long while that he had been back in Mexico. The air seemed different down here, and not just because of all the fumes from airplane fuel. It was coming back to a home he didn't necessarily want to be in. When he left, his reputation stayed behind. He was the man who took on corruption within the Federal Police and lost people for it. And in the end, all he did was remove a few people in key positions and slaughter dozens upon dozens of lackeys, including many of his fellow officers. Others took their place. The corruption took different forms, but the spirit remained the same. It cemented his belief that, if you want real justice or real security, you had to provide it for yourself. Even to this day, depending upon who you asked, Caesar was either a demon or a legend. 

	Looking around their hangar, Caesar noted a few things. The first was that there were two vehicles, aside from the plane, present. One was a stretch Towncar, black and shiny. The other was a hearse. Something else he noticed was the presence of both airport security [i]and[/i] a single representative from the Mexican Federal Police. As their bags were being offloaded from the plane and into the trunk of the towncar, he was approached by both men. 

	Security was waved away by Caesar's credentials identifying him as law enforcement, retired. It carried a significant amount of pull in this country still, and served as his pass to carry what he wanted, when he wanted, and avoid much of the hassle of trite things like airport customs (without a compelling reason from a powerful source). The Federale, though - his face had a sense of awe to it, as a man who had just seen a ghost and/or the birth of a new religion. He extended a hand to Caesar, shaking slightly. "Bienvenido de nuevo a Monterrey, Comandante González. Quería ver si era cierto que regresabas."




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/9c/ba/f3/9cbaf3be02b57676c6708b37c484110a.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Justice Airport [hr][hr][/center]

	Seeing as the only baggage that was still in the carousel belonged to the MSS employees, it was a matter of seconds before the team picked up their belongings and set them aside. Following company protocol, they took a few moments to check their individual bags for any evidence of tampering outside of the occasional not quite closed zipper common to random luggage checks in airports. Satisfied that nothing had been added nor taken away from their gear, the MSS Tech crew uniformly slung on their packs, picked up their laptop cases, and followed Keystone away from the more open areas of the Justice Airport. 

	The parking structures were conveniently located near baggage claim, as fit the need for a hasty removal of one's self from the airport. Keystone led the group past the rows of taxis and hotel shuttles, charter buses and the like, across the street and to a parking deck. They followed him, walking in simple two-by-two rear flanking formation the entire while. Though Tech, they were still professional security personnel. 

	When they finally reached Keystone's vehicle, the group immediately set their packs down and opened various cases found within their personals. Each contained a company standard issue firearm with modular clip holster. Two hauled out their laptops while the lady, Vinters, continued to equip herself as a more standard security agent, including forearm snap guards and a set of slimline knuckle dusters. Keystone raised an eyebrow at this. [color=b8860b]"Said you was Tech, yeah?"[/color] he inquired quizzically. 

	"Yeah." she said dismissively. Her eyes darted up to his briefly. "Yes, sir." she corrected.

	Keystone just nodded. He knew the drill with these people. Even though he was SpecOps and that were Tech, the protocol remained the same for arriving on scene from a commercial flight. He opened the back end of the Dodge Ramcharger and began loading their bags into the back as they were done with them. Ibanez used the opportunity to punch a confirmation code into his phone, letting their home office know that they had arrived and were under the care of the MSS contact in Justice, California. Short moments later, they were settled in the vehicle, set up and ready to depart. Keystone started the engine up and let it sit for a few seconds, looked around his Ramcharger at the new faces inside, and asked bluntly, 

	[color=b8860b]"So then... Tacos?"[/color]