[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://i1.wp.com/hombre1.com/wp-content/uploads/stories/dt%20machete.jpg?w=1170[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] La Hacienda 
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] Investigation, Security Tech [hr][hr][/center]

	It was a formality, unplugging and closing the destroyed laptop. It was probably also a formality to disconnect the battery, and likewise a formality to remove the fried flash drive from the machine. If the situation got any more formal, it would be wearing a top hat and tails. There was the most remote of possibilities that the laptop might still be hemorrhaging information to someone with a very firm grasp on technology. Thalia had heard of such things and Caesar had some working knowledge on security technology, at least enough to know not to take chances. But that thought was a minor stutter in the continuing series of messages sent to his man, Keystone, through the company 'net. 

	Caesar doubted that someone was watching the Hacienda at all times. Such an endeavor would consume resources on an extreme maybe, that being the chance that Caesar would be returning to his family's holdings in Mexico. He hadn't been back in a long time. It seemed more likely that the activation of the drive somehow had alerted whomever decided to crash their party online. Now that the door was open, though, he had no way of telling if the people responsible were still lurking somewhere behind their monitors, poking around in his family's affairs. 

	That unsettling thought aside, Caesar completed his last message to Keystone. He wasn't sure why the large man hadn't confirmed receiving most of the stuff that he had been sending, briefly wondering if the MSS Intranet had been compromised. Caesar needed Alicia at the helm of his Tech department, and fast. Her skills as a hacker, turned sideways, were invaluable to the company and to himself. The next best person for the job (that he trusted implicitly) was sitting in the room with him. But she wasn't a hacker by occupation; Thalia was a programmer with an education in network and tech security. She might make a damned fine hacker if she wanted, being as her knowledge of technology based security could readily be turned to the nefarious, but to the best of Caesar's knowledge his niece had not partaken in any computer based felonies as of yet. 

	Formalities and technological pondering done for the moment, Thalia decided that, like her uncle, she should probably get herself ready for whatever inclement conditions were about to make life interesting. She rifled through the contents of her pack, pulling out a few odds and ends that strongly hinted at her association with the family business. Tac belt, cutlass machete, and extra clips, followed by a phone that looked amazingly like Caesar's, except that it was tucked away in a case that appeared to be covered in fine wire mesh. The elder Gonzalez took an interest in what the upcoming generation was using these days, looking over the very familiar gear with approval. There was one item he was not familiar with, a smallish flashlight with a standard button and a pressure switch, which he instinctively reached toward before Thalia shooed him away. 

	"Careful where you pick that up, [i]boss[/i]." Again, emphasis on the word [i]boss[/i], like she was hammering a point home. "Contact points are around the lens and endcap. You might get a little tickle with enough amperes to light your hair on fire." 

	Caesar's hand retracted. A rare smile formed on his face, to those who knew him. Anyone else would have seen a scowl, bordering on fury. But it was really a smile. [color=orangered]"I sketched this years ago, Angelita. It was not this kind of flashlight though. This is our tech?"[/color]

	"Yeah. Made right here in sunny Mexico. We moved away from the 'MAG' style light to reduce weight and decrease reaction time. But it's yours. Lot of other stuff, too. My dad not give you the numbers recently?"

	[color=orangered]"Been busy. I let the accountants handle that stuff and get the cliffnotes on the figures. As long as we're in the black, I'm okay."[/color] It was an oversimplification of his involvement with the company, obviously, as was the statement that he had been busy. The North American part of the business had been his area of concentration for a while now, and facilities for a clean room and factory floor were so much less expensive in Mexico. 

	In truth, this conversation about business and his series of thoughts on the matter was a distraction, keeping him from being in a state of constant despondency. Such was the way of grief: The strong undercurrent of pain stayed, but emotions on the surface ebbed and flowed, exposing the raw hurt one moment then allowing the cooling relief of humor, or love, or something far more dangerous to suppress the pain. This was one such moment for which Caesar was grateful. 

	But back to the matter at hand. [color=orangered]"Fine, Angelita. Get yourself all Gonzalez'ed up. Tell your father what you are doing, and write a list of the working gear you are going to need. Keep it subtle. I am not putting you on the employee roster until we're in the air, either. Now come on, we need to get back to the viewing."[/color] The burial was scheduled for early the next morning. Many would not be sleeping that night in their revelry and preparation, which in this instance was preferable. Most all of them were armed, and a physical incursion onto the grounds by anyone hostile, short of an occupying military force, would be considered unwise by most schools of thought on the subject. 

	[color=orangered]"I'll make sure you have a decent bike when we land. You still ride?"[/color] The sentence earned him a derisive expression from his niece. Caesar shook his head. Of course she still rode. No one in his family [i]stopped anything[/i] until they died. Usually from not stopping. 

	With quiet resolve and an uncannily similar look on both of their faces, Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez and Thalia Angelica Carmichael of La Familia Gonzalez stepped from the upstairs room and made their way back to the viewing. Food, drink, important conversations with family, and the traditional trappings of [i]Dama de la Muerte Inmaculada[/i] were forthcoming. And then back to business. 



[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 Industries R&D, Elizabeth's Office -> Front Gate
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] Leadership, Security Procedures [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=b8860b]"Right then, Ma'am."[/color] responded Keystone, answering the request of his company's contract holder, Elizabeth Queensguard. She had visitors at the Gate, and murder on site or not they apparently needed entry. The problem was, Keystone had given the security on shift the express order not to let anyone in, regardless of who they said they were, unless he gave a personal okie-dokie on it. [color=b8860b]"Vinters, you hang about, yeah? Standard lockdown proties, yeah? When I'm back, we'll talk on gettin' you back to the Hub."[/color] 

	The angry faced blonde lady known as Vinters gave a sigh and a nod. She was none to happy with the present set of circumstances, being as she was supposed to be there to assist in the investigation of Alicia's death and the smooth operation of her holdings, only to be set on edge by an unexpected gathering of rich, influential schmucks and the untimely death of one of them. Still, she was a company woman. At least tonight. Such things were always possible. Maybe they could get to business tomorrow, but if she didn't get the opportunity to get shitfaced and beat the hell out of someone (not necessarily in that order) sometime that night, she was going to be pissed. Barring that, something in the way of vigorous horizontal attention would be fine, too. 

	On the other side of things, Keystone was busy making his way out of the building and down to the main gate. Just prior to leaving the awning outside of the front doors, he stopped to scan the information that Caesar was passing along to him. [color=b8860b]"I was thinkin' I 'eard that name..."[/color] he mused. Pye. Valerie Pye was apparently a big part of what was going on. And here she was, knocking at the gate. Keystone switched away from the app and gave the guards at the Gate notice. [color=b8860b]"En route, give Ms. Pye and, er... Guest? Guest my apologies. Be there in a jiff."[/color] During that "jiff", Keystone scanned the rest of the information sent from Mexico. It wasn't much. Maybe it was enough for his new tech people to get a more solid lead, though. 

	Approaching the Gate, the massive pugilist adopted more of a professional demeanor, though it was difficult to do away with his London East Ender's Cockney accent. [color=b8860b]"Ms. Pye? Mr. Wadsworth? 'pologies on the wait. If'n that you'd be as kind, please pull up to the main building. I'll be alongside."[/color] He waved the vehicle through and took up a jog to the passenger's side of the vehicle, staying with it for the short distance necessary to get them to the building. He opened the door and extended a hand to the lady in the backseat, intoning, [color=b8860b]"Ms. Pye, my name is Keystone, Director o' Security for the Complex. It's m'pleasure to escort the two of you to Miss Queensguard's offices. Be aware, security's a bit tense t'night. Stick with me until we're up where we gotta go, if it'd be your pleasure, ma'am."[/color]