[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]
	
	Caesar growled softly as Maria left. Perhaps he didn't explain himself as accurately as he would have liked. Of course it was dangerous; it was [i]always[/i] dangerous. She knew it just as well as he did. But what they were doing now, in Justice? It was a whole other level of danger that they were skirting. Levels of government, street cops, federal agencies, the military? Multinational corporations involved at the highest levels, all parties pooling resources and contacts, [i]all[/i] set on the goal of maintaining their secrecy and covering their asses by eliminating anyone who threatened their existence. Caesar was one man, and while one determined man could perform great things with the proper motivation (he had proven this several times), he was fairly certain that he would not survive this ordeal. Maybe he shouldn't. His brand of chaos probably shouldn't exist anymore, its time years past its usefulness. He was old, tired. Caesar lived to see the deaths of his parents and child, both. He might have one or two more big adventures left in him, tops. And the line would live on through his brother, his niece, and his baby grandson.   

	Yeah, Maria knew it was dangerous. Caesar didn't think she knew how dangerous it really was this time. 

	With reservations mounting about offering her the Director's position, Caesar turned and entered the courtyard of the main house. People parted before him, not unlike the Red Sea of Exodus, silently admitting him into the candlelit presence of his late daughter. He stared forward, unwilling to meet the gaze of any of the family at that moment. It was not the time to take audience with these people yet. That was for later in the evening; his people were fairly observant of ritual. He did as everyone else was doing at that time, as one of the group of people gathered to pay their respects - Caesar procured a candle from the box of them toward the front, lit it from another candle, and found a clear place to set it. The first few drops of wax served to form a good base to tack it down upon, and so he did, his one candle joining the many already present. 

	Caesar paused for a moment to view the scene. The arrangement of his M'hija was tasteful, even elegant. Tables were set nearby, laden with the token offerings of those who had chosen to attend, featuring various breads and fruits, small amounts of money and pieces of jewelry of various amounts of value, mostly local silver. Everything was in greater number than most funerals he had attended, likely due in no small part to the fact that Alicia was the only daughter of the family's patriarch. Everything was set up in a highly respectful manner. It would have been very nice, very comforting if Caesar could allow himself to feel anything other than restrained, raw-nerved grief right then. He gave a moment's silence upon bent knee in front of Alicia's remains, just outside of the area forbidden by the four candles initially placed around her. He then rose and silently exited the courtyard to the back, entering the house proper. 

	From behind the closed doors of his personal rooms, Caesar placed a sent a message back home. He wanted to say so much more than he did. There were certain revelations that had to be addressed when the time was right. In the end, it was a simple order:

[center][color=orangered][i][u]Have your people do a full background check on Dr. Natasha Brinne. Works with the Coroner's office. Will work something on this end.[/u][/i][/color][/center]

	Followed by another, very similar message:

[center][color=orangered][i][u]As soon as you are free later, run a solid background on Dr. Natasha Brinne. Use company intra if you need.[/u][/i][/color][/center]

	[i]Meanwhile, one floor up...[/i] 

	"Asexual Chemist? That's kind of a waste, girl. You've got stuff to offer." This from the soon-to-be Mescal pounding cousin. With the slightest apologetic tone, she continued. 

	"Hell of a band name though, like, for Indie stuff? 'Asexual Chemist' ...whatever. Look, you don't have to drink remotely as much as Doc there says, but its not a bad idea to have something in your hand while you're around most of these people. Best way to keep them from offering you more. It's a culture thing. Tell you what, I can get you a glass of sangria. It's okay warm and you can nurse it for the evening if you want. Or you can hold it in your hand, take a few minutes downstairs, and run back up here. Just watch out, as soon as a meal is ready, lot of people will seek you out and try to stuff the both of you like a Christmas goat." She didn't ordinarily speak this much, especially at somber occasions like this, and particularly when they hit close to home. But after a short talk, she promised her father that she would show perfect hospitality and that these women, Cecily and Natasha, were in need of their protection. 

	There was a note of confusion that played across her face as Natasha opened the door and looked to her to guide them down. The scene downstairs was perfectly visible from just outside the door, and as far as she was aware she described the custom in enough detail to facilitate proper observance. Mostly, she was anxious to get back to the semi-private bar in their common room and her share of the carnitas. But Papa was fairly adamant about her responsibilities as a hostess/liaison to the Familia Gonzalez. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that this was her duty today. "Must be a little tired. Give me a sec, yah?" 

	She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Sorry, work number..." 

	Upon checking the phone, the generally foulmouthed priest's daughter tucked it back away and shot a glance to Cecily and Natasha. "Hey, I'm being a kind of a bitch tonight. Sorry, you two. Let's go downstairs. I'll give you a demo. I haven't lit my candle yet, anyway." She walked out of the door and gazed to the courtyard below before leading them down, a sense of wistful melancholy overtaking her. "This way. Hey, Natasha? What did you say you did for a living, again?" 	



[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]

	Goddamned hold music. He really didn't give a more or less decent set of rat's hindparts that it was an okay lineup of classic rock, after being made to wait through several transfers, many of which were to people he had already spoken with once, twice, three times a lady, it was beginning to become symbolic of everything he wanted to put a bare fist through, starting from the unfair circumstances of his childhood and running straight up to present day. Vaguely, he was still pissed off that he wasn't going to be present for Alicia's funeral. Not that they were madly in love or anything, but the news of her passing was a blow. Pure happenstance occurred for him to be assigned to assist Caesar. He might call it kismet, fate, what have you, but he was determined to do whatever was necessary to assist in finding out whomever was responsible for this gross injustice and doing arduously painful things to them, in whatever capacity was called for at the moment. 

	Finally, thank whatever deity stood on high to give him an ounce of reprieve, but a new message came through while he sat staring at an unnecessarily cruel phone. When it came in, he pulled up a separate screen and took it in. While Caesar never got around to answering him concerning his update, his answers were implied in the order given to Keystone. The gargantuan Brit scribbled a name and occupation down on a post-it note and walked it out to the new Tech team from Seattle. 

	[color=b8860b]"Right. First order for you lot from above: Full background check on this name, A-bloody-SAP. Copy what you find into a secure access folder an' bullet point the choice bits for me, yeah? Quick on it. Thanks."[/color] 

	A quick wave of acknowledgement from the team was given, eyes never leaving their screens. Keystone noted with satisfaction that additional tabs bearing the appropriate name and picture were pulled up, and his order was being carried out immediately in seamless, cooperative unison, each one looking into separate aspects of their charge.