[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://bodypower.loxblog.com/upload/b/bodypower/image/mariusz-pudzianowski.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Security Hub (His Office)
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A
[hr][hr][/center] 

	[i](Narrator: When last we saw our intrepid hero, he was on the phone in his office getting jerked around by the company's marketing and legal departments. Let's see how it's going.)[/i]

	Keystone let out many a quiet [color=b8860b]"sod it"[/color] over the course of a marathon wait, the hold music slowly making a move on his soul. How long he had been at it for a simple answer of protocol was beyond him, but it felt like months. This continued until a notice signaled him on his desktop, coming down from the client, or the business thereof. A message, requesting an appropriate detail to provide security on extremely short notice. A thing like this would have to involve some collection of high and mighty muckedy-mucks, lest the meet during regular business hours, and/or in a public site. The big guy would have [i]loved[/i] to have met at a public site. Like a steakhouse. Yes! A traditional American steakhouse. Ok, after his workout, definitely. 

        But not now. No, now he had to oversee or delegate oversight for this suddenly scheduled meeting. With a sigh, Keystone hung up his office phone, killing his call he'd started much earlier, and punched in an extension. 

        [color=b8860b]"Yeah, needs me a team. Site's bein' barney'd into a last soddin' minute venue for some stick-in-the-arse brigade. All availables, then. Didn't square much in detail. Yeah, one o' [i]those[/i]. I'll be waitin' out to receive. Cheers."[/color]

        He stood, took a minute to refit his ballistic vest and throw a layer of clothing over it, anx walked out to the Hub proper. [color=b8860b]"Vinters! You're with me. Grab you an earpiece. Grab one for me, while you're at it. Ibanez, you're eyes n'ears. Get on the screens."[/color] With that, he strode out to the receiving area, a moderately pissed-off blonde lady in tow. 





[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 
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A[hr][hr][/center]

        Caesar made his way down the stairs, past the onlookers, and back into the viewing area. He was not overly comfortable there, any more than he was truly comfortable anywhere where he could be scrutinised. But these people were family. It wasn't as bad. He had less to worry about with them, and they had come to pay respects anyway. 

        Which remimded him: Those two upstairs were up to something. He couldn't tell what, nor even if it related to him, but something was being played close to the vest with his brother and niece. But, family. If they wanted him to know, they would have told him. 

        [i]Meanwhile, back upstairs...[/i]

        "Shit." hissed Thalia, her hands speeding over the keyboard. She knew that she should have isolated the drive better than she did, maybe plug it into a throwaway device beforehand. 

        [b]"What is wrong?"[/b] inquired Benicio, still cradling little Liam. 

        "Bitch booby-trapped it with a virus. God damn, this is nasty. Give me a minute." Whether it would take merely a minute or if this would become a pitched battle, Thalia was able to prevent her system from getting fried immediately. The countermeasure was still active, though, and Thalia had her work cut out for her as she attempted to isolate and remove evidence of the corrupting software. Whatever was on this drive had better be worth it.