[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]

	With his two messages sent, all Caesar could do now was sit back and wait. It took longer than a couple of minutes to run a full and proper background check no matter how talented they might be. There was nothing but time before the funeral proper, though it would be for the best if he made appropriate appearances beforehand. Custom suggested that the guests pay their respects not only to the deceased, but to their closest family as well. Seeing as Benecio was the one cobbling this whole series of ceremonies together, not to mention that he wasn't the closest relative to Alicia present, it would fall to he and Maria. Yes, it was his responsibility to return to the crowd of Gonzalez men and women, not to mention the many additional members of La Familia by marriage, distant relation, and close association. 

	Then there were the two women he brought along. Cecily, because she might require the protection of being a couple thousand miles away from the rampant murders, surrounded by armed and pissed off people that loved Alicia and respected Caesar, and Natasha because she was the doctor treating the wound sustained by the junior Coroner. Caesar was more of the type to inflict grievous injury upon others rather than repair it, the occasional necessity of burning wounds closed or biting on a leather belt to tolerate pain aside. As it came to it, he did think it was a little suspicious that she volunteer so readily. Even as his daughter's body lay in a state of unliving still and quiet elsewhere in the complex, his mind was twitching eagerly to track down those responsible. 

	His suitcase was present in his bedroom, laying atop the foot of his bed. He walked over to it, considering what was inside. Clothes, of course, personal items, toiletries... and weapons. His leather vest, torn and repaired from hundreds of fights over the course of several decades, damn near a flag for his family to fly that symbolized who they were and where they came from. For that matter, [i]he[/i] was a symbol for his family. More than a figurehead, Caesar was the patriarch of his clan, a large group of like-minded persons of Spanish and Aztec ancestry, with other assorted genetic odds and ends thrown in that served to strengthen the bloodline, as carbon and chromium and titanium might in an amalgam with iron to make deadly, sharp steel. He needed to be that symbol now, as he was going to ask the people present to lend their help, such as they could so far away from home, with what would come next. 

	Caesar was going to ask them to go to war. 

	The main difficulty was, of course, that to war with something, you had to nail down exactly what they were going to attack, and how. This wouldn't be an open conflict. This had to be surgical, precise, and secretive. But first, he had to look the part. The trappings of corporate America had to go, what little he allowed himself over the last couple of weeks, replaced by the day to day street clothes he would have worn otherwise. His engineer boots, rugged pants and trademarkable leather vest, of course. But mostly, it was his choice of weapons that even he did not ordinarily show openly around, back in California. Two machetes of appropriate size strapped to his back, a couple knives, his .45 pistol (one thing he genuinely appreciated that was American, those Anglos knew how to make a fine firearm), and Alicia's switchblade. He tied a large, black bandanna around his head and let his hair fall freely, then buckled on wide, studded leather bracers. This was the garb he might wear if he were readying for one of his legendary rampages; stealthy at first, until the first motorcycle chase or massive explosion. Then all-out carnage. This was what he did. This was what [i]they[/i] did. It was fitting that they make their supplications to Dama Muerte, Our Lady Death: Caesar intended to send her a [i]lot[/i] of extra company. But first, before he walked back outside, greeted his people, or anything else, the old man needed to take a few minutes for himself. 

	[i]Meanwhile, in the courtyard...[/i]

	The young lady ushered Cecily and Natasha down the stairs and into the throng of Gonzalezes below. She was known to all of them present, being the daughter of the Priest, and as such was given a respectful amount of space as she passed through the crowd. o her word, she located a thick, glass goblet and filled it with sweet, red wine diluted with juices, a few chunks of citrus fruit floating across the top. She handed it back to Cecily and snatched a flask-style bottle of something warmly amber colored for herself. This was the way things were done here. Stuff was provided, people took it, repaid as best they could or, in their case, took their right as guests of the family. All would come back around eventually, anyway. 

	She lit her candle, found a clearish spot for it, and took a knee in front of Alicia's body. A small prayer in Spanish could be heard over the murmurs of the crowd, just barely. Slowly, she stood and wiped tears away from her eyes, cleared her throat, and looked to the two women in tow. Her voice was a little shaky. "Yeah, um... I'm going to give a couple of minutes down here, say hi to some people. Then I'm back upstairs. This party's going to be going all day and all night, so ah... ...stick with me or do your own thing, I'm okay with both. The um, the channels..." Her voice cracked a little. She took a pull from the bottle she had just liberated, cleared her throat again, and continued, "Channels and stuff are set to American standards in the main room upstairs. DVR whatever you want. I'll let you know when it's time to eat."




[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]

	The background check was coming along quickly and smoothly, much moreso than he would have expected. He wasn't what you would call a "Computer Guy", by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew how to read a report and draw some of his own conclusions. The Seattle Tech Team made it a point to drop links and copies of their findings directly into Keystone's upper access cloud. At first, it was ordinary stuff, born on this date in that place, parents did this, went to school there, yadda yadda yadda. Nothing too out of the ordinary, standard growing up and coming of age type stuff. Promising career, travel, etc. 

	Then one name stood out. He wasn't sure where he had heard it before. Maybe in a briefing somewhere, or a bit of paperwork shuffled off somewhere. It seemed important, somehow. Right in the back of his brain somewhere, a detail he couldn't shake. He didn't want to go to Caesar with nothing more than a strange feeling, so he decided to do a little light snooping himself. Keystone leaned forward and ran a search over the company intranet for a certain Doctor contact of Natasha's, along with a corresponding overt search on a popular search engine. Keystone hoped it was nothing. He really did.