[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] Private Hangar in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico [hr][hr][/center]

	Caesar shook the Federale's hand. They stood there for a few seconds before the grizzled Mexican spoke. [color=orangered]"Sí. Diles que no estoy aquí por negocios."[/color] They looked at one another for another moment, and then the uniformed Federale gave him a quick head bobbling nod and left without further word. Caesar gave him a regarding look as he left the hangar, presumably to return to his superiors to inform them that he had no intent to eviscerate a few dozen people during his time in Monterrey. 

	Then the pilot braced him for the inevitable; Alicia's casket was being brought out of the plane. The hearse door opened, thanks to an attendant, and the pilot opened the cargo hatch of their plane. As the casket was wheeled across the hanger, passing directly by Caesar, the old man could not help but shed a tear or two. He wept, but his face remained as granite. It was a quiet pause of time in that hangar with only the sound of wheels carrying a long, steel box that housed the remains of a once vibrant and powerful woman over to a standard hearse. Caesar took a step or two in the direction of Alicia's remains as it rolled by, but stopped short of committing himself to it. It was not time yet. 

	One of the back doors of the Town Car opened, and a smooth, rolling baritone voice could be heard from within. The voice spoke in almost perfectly accented English, [b]"It's been a long time, Caesar. You look good."[/b] The [url=http://frostsnow.com/uploads/biography/2016/12/19/tom-savini.jpg]man to whom the voice belonged[/url] stepped out of the back of the stretched vehicle, dressed in the obvious garb of a Catholic Priest. He stepped over to the trio of Natasha, Cecily, and Caesar. The elder Mexican seemed to barely  note his presence, not until he came within striking distance. His gaze shot over to the man, and he grunted slight to affirm the Padre's presence. 

	The priest shook his head, continuing to speak to them all despite Caesar's gruff reception. [b]"Bienvenidos a Mexico. Ladies, Caesar... All of the arrangements have been taken care of. We have rooms made available for you, if you decide to take our hospitality.[/b] He looked over to Caesar again, this time with a knowing look. Addressing Cecily and Natasha, he continued, [b]"Forgive me, we have forgotten introductions. I am Father Benicio Gonzalez, Church of La Madrina Inmaculada. Do you lovely ladies work for Caesar?"[/b] 

	The door to the hearse clicked closed, seemingly snapping Caesar out of his lull. The priest noticed, and looking over to the man, said, [b]"I'm so sorry, hermano. We loved her."[/b]



[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]

	Well, traffic sucked. Like, sucked fully out loud, and they weren't even out of airport yet. The kind of suckage that really only occurs when you want to be someplace in a hurry, like say, oh... when one is anxious to get a new team to their worksite to begin immediate efforts to secure a computer system and initiate a investigation, say? Then decides to leave an airport during a sudden onset of atypical rush hour. That kind of suckage. At the very least, it gave Keystone plenty of time to get his parking slip stub and exact change together as they inched forward to the [i]one[/i] toll booth, so as to leave the least amount of aggravation for all parties behind him. Not that they would notice and/or care, but it was something. 

	The moment they were clear of the toll booth, it was like a window opened, venting away most of the excess car fumes and providing a much better driving experience. It was still a little tight, but soon Keystone was able to get onto the main road and put a little distance between his new tech team and the Justice Airport. In his Ramcharger, the group already seemed to be getting to work, establishing a secure network with their devices inside of his vehicle and exchanging information with one another about their client and location. Aside from asking the occasional, mundane question, they mostly kept to their own shorthanded conversation. It was well enough for Keystone. He was content to merely get them where they needed to go, and provide muscle support in case any of the existing tech people on location got a little difficult. Of course, looking at these new people, there probably wouldn't be much in the way of difficulty. 

	Keystone glanced into the rearview mirror, accidentally locking eyes with the blonde lady in their group, the one who looked like she was gearing up for a brawl earlier. She smiled at him, briefly, before inquiring in an accent unknown to him, "What? I look like someone?"

	He didn't get the opportunity to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a smallish yellow building made of solid concrete with outdoor seating. It was emblazoned with the words "Mr. Burrito!" in stark green and red lettering. Unwilling to hit a returning exit or pull a U-ey later on, Keystone cut across traffic with a squeal of tires and a slew of profanity. When the vehicle came to a complete stop, it was more or less parked in a designated parking space facing Mr. Burrito's exterior walk-up ordering window, near an unoccupied outdoor table. [color=b8860b]"Right then! You lot're 'ungry, yeah? On me. Go shit'ouse on it."[/color] He exited the vehicle and strode up to the window.