[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://cdn.movieweb.com/img.news.tops/NEvyrxPbk7zLyD_2_b/Inmate-Number-1-Movie-Danny-Trejo-Documentary.jpg[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] La Hacienda [hr][hr][/center] 

	[color=orangered]"What's going on is big, Maria."[/color] Caesar's voice was low and even, keeping the baby in his arms settled and more or less content. [color=orangered]"M'hija got involved in something without my approval. We're still trying to figure out what it is. It mostly involves powerfully placed women in medicine, military, industry... Our contract holder in California is part of it. She might be okay, though. Complicated. Lady named Queensguard. She brought M'hija on board."[/color] A look of stress and pain rolled over his face. He tried to suppress it to finish speaking his peace; his success in doing so was only partial. 

	[color=orangered]"I'm running out of people I can trust, Maria. I would close down the branch and expand somewhere else, but someone has to answer for our daughter. Someone has to answer..."[/color] Yes, someone would pay for this, if his feelings on the matter had a say. The person next to them would pay, too. And the next nearest. And so on, and so on. The lucky ones would only have  fresh coating of arterial red, and the only truly safe ones would be already dead or behind him, handing over the next machete or knife or corkscrew as he cut a swath of jagged meat and bone through anyone stupid enough to get in his way. 

	[color=orangered]"You know Law, Maria. And you know business. You know [i]my[/i] business, okay? And you know [i]me[/i]. Married or not, you birthed a Gonzalez. You are Familia, now and always. I want to give you the Justice, California branch of MSS. This baby's father is acting Director now. I need  you to take over for him. Full access, full control. The fact that you don't like me very much will only help you. Don't answer now - let's see to our daughter first."[/color] 

	The parade of people continued into the complex from outside. They entered the main house at first, but some found their way into one or another of the other two houses and their grounds. They seemed to be of all walks of life, businesspersons and laborers, musicians, soldiers, artists. There was even a small group of masked Luchadores in attendance, each bearing gifts and deferring quiet respect to Caesar and Maria as they passed by. One thing they all had in common was a relation to the Gonzalez clan by blood or marriage. Everyone knew everyone here, everyone relied upon the person next to them. It was a huge, multigenerational family, the core of which bred some of the most interestingly calamitous people in Central America. 

	[i]Meanwhile, one floor up...[/i] The door to the central room swung open the rest of the way, revealing that it was indeed their chauffeur from earlier. Intense hazel eyes look like they had been crying very recently, red rimmed and still a bit watery despite the strength of her voice. She had a large woven basket over one arm, the same hand holding a sixer of Corona. In her other hand, she clutched two plain, white candles and a book of matches. 

	"Yeah, thanks. Hey, before I begin, are either of you fucking Caesar? It's just like him to... Wait, sorry. Not my business. Sorry. Umm, yeah. Dad wanted me to give you these," she held the candles out to either of them, continuing, "If you can't tell from the accent, I'm from the States. These big family gatherings sacred the hell out of me at first. I mean, our Matron is the folk saint of Death, for Christ's sake. Most normal people would be scared shitless to come on this property. Hell, I'm surprised no one in the city warned you about us. Oh!" 

	The exclamation was due to her suddenly remembering that she had a whole other armload of stuff to drop off. She set the candles on the table nearby, and additionally dropped off the beer and basket. From inside the woven carrier, she pulled a stack of steaming, soft shell tortillas and a tupperware container of what appeared to be shredded meat. "Carnitas, if you guys are interested. Corona's yours too. Other shit in the common room, full bar, San Pellegrino, sparkling flat, fruity, blah blah blah... Look, here's the deal: Whenever you two are up for it, it would do the Family good to see you pay respects to Alicia. Really simple. Take one of these candles downstairs, light it off of one of the candles in the courtyard, and find a quiet spot to tack it down. They'll be down there all night, at least."

	A word of warning, "There are four candles making a rectangle around her body. Don't step inside of it. It's disrespectful." followed by an almost cheerful, "The kitchens and firepits on the grounds are going to be churning out food by the shit-ton. We gotta feed the living. NOW, if you've got any questions about us or what's going to happen next, you'll have to do it in the other room. I'm about to find a bottle of Mescal and dive for that fucking worm. Could get ugly. You with me?" The young woman began backing out of the bedroom and into the main area. "Hmm?"


[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] Queensguard Industries R&D, Security Hub [hr][hr][/center]

	On hold. Hold sucked, but at least the music was okay. MSS was pretty good about that. It helped that the original music was picked out by Caesar's family and some of his original employees. While it was an interesting bit of happenstance, listening to the Rolling Stones belt out "Paint It Black" while sitting behind a desk twiddling his thumbs, it was becoming tedious. Kestone knew what they were doing, too. They were verifying that he was the actual Acting Director of the Justice, CA branch before releasing anything sensitive to him. Hopefully, this would only have to happen once. 

	The Tech crew, meanwhile, were making themselves busy digging into the odd and ends of their local network, making the odd comment about antiquated passwords and chuckling at the search histories of people who were supposed to be on shift. The quieter one, Whitmore, raised his hand high above his terminal, which was responded to by the tall lady, Vinters. She immediately scooped up an energy beverage from her pack and hurled it across their setup, sailing at an almost perfect spiral until it nailed the palm of his hand. The barely had to stop typing. Other employees craned their necks to observe the curious knot of people in what they assumed was [i]their[/i] workspace, until the Party of Four from Seattle basically just made it theirs. The seniormost one, Ibanez, addressed the onlookers. 

	"How many of you are on monitors? Yeah, eyes back on them. Let me know if you get a flicker or static. I'm going to try something."

	Back in his office, Keystone looked positively bored. Hold still sucked, no matter what music.