[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 -> Private Plane
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	La Familia all turned out to bid farewell to three of their own. They might as well have, they were already present to bury another. The tone of the gathering was somber but hopeful that morning. Many farewells were given as well as more gifts; of course those gifts were mainly the same bread, fruit, and the like from the viewing the night before, turned to good use now that the festivities were completed. It was tradition that the remaining be split among the family. They just wanted to make sure that Caesar, Maria, and Thalia took their fair share and more with them. 

	Sunglasses hid red-rimmed eyes from both Caesar and his niece. There was grieving, yet also the fact that the funeral proper took place just before dawn, ending just as the sun crested the horizon of a Mexican sky. It was the least festive of the events that had occurred, made notable only by the flair and surroundings of the crypt. Such thoughts could be reflected upon in time, perhaps in transit; for now it would suffice to think to the future. The immediate future where La Familia sends some of their best to hopefully right the wrongs done to it - or at the very least reestablishes order among the chaos that became of their Justice, CA holdings. 

	The car ride to the airport seemed to take a lot longer this time around. There was much that could have gone horribly wrong, as befits the nature of their lives in general. But none too soon, the private plane that whisked Caesar and two guests [i]into[/i] Monterrey was now taking them [i]from[/i] the city, albeit the guests had changed. Caesar had a thought about those two, Cecily and Natasha. He hoped that they were alright and out of trouble. Particularly Cecily, who seemed to be caught up in this for no reason. That and more could be pondered in the time between takeoff and landing; the flight promised to be just as long as the first one. Reddened eyes could relax for a while, or so was the thought as wheels left runway and the group left Mexico behind. 




[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, MSS Motor Pool
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Keystone didn't bother heading home that night. Oh, he had planned to. Wanted to, certainly, but the lure of convenience and no small amount of concern nagged at him. He had gotten his people set up, of course; hotel rooms nearby for most, the remaining put into the "On Call" beds near the Hub's lounge area. Keystone availed himself of a shower from the gym's facilities and made his way down to the motor pool, partially to check on the staff down that way but mostly to see the state of his new ride. It was glorious. 

	The security modifications aside, which were formidable enough on their own, the charming '84 Custom Ramcharger was outfitted with a full, up-to-date electronics and communications suite, security network interface, and various luxury commodities that made it a tiny, extremely secure home on wheels/mobile office/bitchin' ride. The people running security directly would get a piece of his mind, most assuredly, but the motor pool folks? They might be getting a raise for the amazing job they did, and mostly on a rush. 

	In the end, Keystone decided that getting a jump on things early in the morning was a good idea, and so he sent a concierge for a set of fresh clothing from the Hub consisting of the same garb worn by the high profile security agents - not quite formal and not quite tactical, but it came with a lovely blazer - and decided to make use of the security and luxury of his new ride, right there in the garage. The next morning saw him rise and roll out of his urban armored vehicle, stretch, scratch himself a bit, and begin strapping his secure armor back on underneath his outer clothing. It was going to be a bitch of a day. He could feel it. And as fits his personal philosophy on the issue, if the day was going to suck, it might as well suck on a full belly. Step One of the day: Find breakfast.