[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]

	A long, doleful sigh issued from Caesar, back in his private rooms. He hadn't been here for a long time, and it looked as clean and maintained as a hotel room. If the hotel room were decorated in Northern Mezoamerican Splatterpunk, anyway. Crisp bedclothes and polished wooden chests gave a contrasting feel of sophistication to the master bedroom, along with simple but high quality furniture and a series of more modern electronics. This was the room of a man with one foot in cultural history and the other in the necessities of the modern era. And a poster of himself captioned with [color=orangered][i]"Chuck Norris? Never heard of her."[/i][/color] that he really should have taken down years ago, but still gave a chuckle every now and again. Not today, obviously. But sometimes. Perhaps he'd blow it up and use it as a motivational poster for the Familia while he was away, which was really all of the time, anymore. 

	But he had wasted too much time in his rooms for now. As painful and tedious as this whole thing was for him, Caesar was obligated to greet his extended family and be seen by them, among them, as one of them. He was their patriarch. So, by way of the busy, working kitchen, Caesar returned to the house's courtyard. He was armed for a prolonged battle, and horking back a tortilla filled with whatever steaming hot meat they were carving up for the next meal. By the time he had shoved it in as far as it would go, the venerable Mexican began shaking hands and nodding quietly to the people present. After a bit of social hobnobbing of this nature, he happened across Cecily, carrying her glass of sangria. Noting the mild "fish out of water" vibe, he quietly asked her, [color=orangered]"You good?"[/color] 

	Elsewhere in the courtyard, the seasoned Mexican's niece had located, and been accosted by, a trio of fully fledged, mask-wearing Luchadores, and had been lifted onto one of their shoulders. This particular one had a brown and black mask resembling a sugar skull and profuse hair on his arms, not unlike one of the legendary creatures of the United States's Pacific Northwest. Her eyes were still sad, but her mouth found a curious smile. 



[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 most basic of internet searches found the picture of the woman in question, including a good, clear one with her wearing a lab coat and looking directly into the camera. Keystone still had no idea who this person was, but the [i]name[/i] was the important part. Between that and an image, he was good to begin his pitch to the boss. Oddly, the large man reflected on where he might have seen the face before, positive that he had checked everything that he had access to bearing said name. In the end, he decided to ask the guy in the know and not to try to puzzle out that difficulty himself. Positive that he was doing the right thing, Keystone attached a copy of the photo to a text message and sent it off to Caesar:

[center][color=b8860b][i][u]"You know who this is? Name of Dr. Amy Chang, recruited your friend Natasha to Justice Memorial. Hope this ain't an issue."[/u][/i][/color][/center]

	After he sent it off, Keystone noted with deepening concern that this lady was a roller derby aficionado. No, nothing could be rightly done about it just that second, so with some resignation Keystone had to sit back and wait for the rest of the background check to go through. With any luck, this was a thing that would blow over, a mere detail in the general, overall works.