[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]

	True to his word, Caesar began loading their bags into the trunk of the stretch towncar as everyone else entered the vehicle cab. There weren't very many bags a they hadn't planned on being there for very long time, but among their possessions there was one case a little heavier than the others, dark and nondescript, otherwise not remarkable except for the temporary paper tag around the handle, marking it as Caesar's. This one he saved for last. 

	From the view inside of the limo, one might note that Caesar spent much longer than was necessary behind the open door to the trunk. There was the occasional snatch of conversation in Spanish involving the more refined voice of Benecio and the gravelly syllables of Caesar. While the discussion was brief, it was enough to surmise that they were doing more than talking about the most space efficient way to store suitcases. 

	Meanwhile, the partition inside the vehicle slid down a couple of inches. The rearview mirror showed a pair of sharp, feminine hazel eyes, partly obscured by a shock of dark hair which was held down by a chauffeur's cap. The owner of the eyes said nothing, seemingly waiting for some cue, but the gaze from her was unwavering and fierce. Within the next couple of minutes, Caesar and Benecio had both entered the vehicle. The doors shut, and a moment of tense quiet fell. Caesar was the one to break the silence. 

	[color=orangered]"We're not going to a secure MSS facility."[/color] he began. His demeanor was difficult to read. Did the old man prefer an antiseptic series of rooms instead of a nice, luxurious hotel room? Was he feeling quite the opposite, and his growing need for comfort in his autumn years supersede the practical necessity of staying safe? Possibly being in his home turf was a thing that made him feel safer. Or it could be none of those things. Point of fact, it was most definitely not. [color=orangered]"There is a Hacienda just outside of the city, near the mountain the Gonzalez Crypt is under. Most of La Familia is already there."[/color] 

	Benicio attempted to explain in more detail. [b]"It is an estate, just outside of Monterrey. It still has a city mailing address. Most of the members of the Gonzalez Family were brought up there, and technically it is under my care now. The family will be expecting a full observation of the rites of Nuestra Dama de la Muerte."[/b]

	[color=orangered]"Not everybody in our family follows her."[/color] remarked Caesar in strong, corrective tones, as much to Cecily and Natasha as it was for Benicio. 

	[b]"Correct. But she has paid particular interest in our family, Caesar. You know this better then most. And she always gets what is due her.[/b]

	[color=orangered]"Hmmm..."[/color] grunted Caesar, not willing to continue the discussion. [color=orangered]"Ángel! Hacienda, por favor."[/color] The intense hazel eyes from the front seat disappeared as the partition rolled up, and the limousine rolled out of the hangar. The powerful Mexican sun beat down upon the vehicle, restrained from most of its fury by thick, tinted windows. From behind the glass, one could almost clearly make out an American accent enunciating a slightly put out, "Yeah, on it."

[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] Mr. Burrito -> Back on the road [hr][hr][/center]

	The tacos. Ah Lord, the tacos. When the dust finally settled on the now bleak landscape of Mr. Burrito, five people loomed tall and victorious over a mountain of individual wrappers, specially designed to serve the needs of a single folded tortilla plus savory contents, then spend the remainder of its existence clogging up a landfill. But that was a huge pile of discard paper. Impressive, really. The first official request of the Justice Branch's new arrivals had been fulfilled. Strangely, all of the hot sauce from the tables was missing upon their departure, as well. Feeling sorry for whoever had to clean up, Keystone tipped well. Company expense tab, and whatnot. 

	Always the forward-thinking man, Keystone was particularly happy that his office had its own bathroom. The Hub, well... If the new Tech group wasn't close already, they were about to get to know each other a lot better. 

	Back in the big, black Ramcharger, the big guy addressed the Techies again in a more official capacity. [color=b8860b]"Right, now, when we get back, you lot go through basic protocol, like you was talkin' on about, yeah? Make sure we're secure, put up some more firewalls or encryptions or wha'ever the arse you lot're into. Just make us water-bloody-tight. Then I'll see about gettin' Miss Gonzalez's information to ya, see what you can sort from 'er 'ardware an' intranet account."[/color] There was much passive nodding and agreeing, mostly because there was a possible Taco Coma forthcoming. And it was obvious that Keystone wasn't exactly the most computer savvy guy in the car. It wasn't a true "smile and nod" moment; they were all serious about their work, respectful of Keystone (in their own ways), and fully aware they they were brought in because they were the experts in their chosen field, and El Jefe needed people he knew were loyal. 

	The group continued down the streets of Justice, ever closer to Queensguard R&D and their destination therein.