[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]https://www.trbimg.com/img-54da3b87/turbine/sf-danny-trejo-shock-pop-comiccon-lauderdale-20150210[/img][/center][sub][color=orangered][i]His childhood bedroom. Caesar sometimes comes back here to think.[/i][/color][/sub][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] La Hacienda 
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Caesar was a few seconds away from legitimately losing his shit. From what was witnessed issuing from the youngest Gonzalez just prior, not to mention the massive cleanup necessary, it can be assumed that when a more experienced patriarch loses his shit, it was epic. The last such time that Caesar (metaphorically) misplaced said feces, he was in an undisclosed location in Chile and the body count was beyond massive. There was fire, there was an execution by car, there was even the strategic use of tropical fish in one instance. Axes, flagpoles, machetes; there was very little he did not use in the pursuit of his goal. Of course, the operation was [i]supposed[/i] to be a surgical strike involving taking out a specific target and securing enough evidence for the local government to move on the operation. 

	What actually happened was that they pissed him off and he ripped through them like a bad burrito. And let's face it, Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez [i]was[/i] One Bad Burrito. He was kind enough not to charge the government extra. Besides, the hard currency and guns he liberated from the complex more than made up for his trouble and medical expenses. That wasn't even the best example of him totally losing his shit, just the most recent prior to taking MSS international. When pressed, Caesar was a goddamned [i]Fecalangelo[/i]. 

	Now, the reason why he was headed into a state of imminent crap-displacement was because of the information that was pulled up on Thalia's monitor. While the younger woman could not make the connection, her uncle was beginning to. One of those names, Diana: Code name for one of the members of Juno, specifically the roller derby team. He knew of her as Amy Chang, but according to this, "Diana" was a lady named Valerie Pye. At least it was back in 1983. 

	[color=orangered]"Angel, listen close. I don't want you getting any more involved than you have to, okay? M'hija's dead because of this. You get me? Dead. I know it hasn't hit me as hard as it's going to. Not yet. The job isn't done."[/color] 

	Scanning over the file, Caesar noticed that some already finished their own job back in '83. In a church, no less. The names were familiar from the Juno lineup, with one exception. Oddly, that name was, itself, [i]Juno[/i]. It might be an organization now, but thirtysome years ago is was a person. And that wasn't all; every one of the names on the list were dead, killed in that very same church, [i]except for one[/i]. And a child. 

	[color=orangered]"As long as we're in a secure location, I want you to run a search for me."[/color] So much for not pursuing the investigation out of respect for Alicia. It seemed like striking while the iron was hot and while they and the means to do so quickly and quietly offered a better alternative to respect: Revenge. Or a step closer to it. [color=orangered]"Find out if Valerie Pye is still alive, Angel. Her and that kid that survived, if you can. Everything you can on her. That's for start."[/color] Indeed it was just a start. Almost as a hunch, he continued, [color=orangered]"And see what you can pull up on Elizabeth Queensguard. How old she really is, what she was doing around '83."[/color] Oh, there was more. Much more. The small amount of information uncovered could keep him digging for weeks, if he felt the need to be obsessive. Hopefully, uncovering one or two pieces of the puzzle would snowball them into more. For starters, who this mystery woman is and how she ties into everything else imploding in Justice, CA. 

	[i]...meanwhile, back at the party...[/i]

	Keystone had his ear to the phone, listening to the steady repeat of electronic ringing. A second, quieter sound interrupted the ringing, causing Keystone to whisk the phone away from his head for a second to see that he had received a message from Caesar. A company Email tucked into a secure but nonessential folder with a subject titled "French Omelette and Kippered Salmon". A curious header, but one that he could not look into immediately. It was only when Mrs. Queensguard picked up the phone on her end that he realized that it might be important. Very important. As soon as he was off of the line, he was going to look into it. But first...

	[color=b8860b]"Mrs. Queensguard, ma'am, this's Keystone with MSS. If'n you'd be as chipper as to not react to the next words, I'd be grateful, yeah? Right then: The complex is under a cyberattack right bloody now. Security feeds're down, an' we're bettin' there's someone on your payroll what's helpin'. More on, that knobslob Wentworth looks like he's passin' signals. I've got a bloke what's gonna take your server physically off the plug in a mo' till my Tech team can get it sorted, and I'm waitin' to 'ear back from teams on foot 'bout intrusion, if any. On the now, just in case there's bronzecockery afoot, I advise you duck for a powder and we get you offsite quiet-like. Otherwise, we'll keep on the job. 'Ow're you wantin' this 'andled?"[/color] Truly, the Cockney was strong with Keystone this evening.