[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar[/color] & [color=darkgoldenrod]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img][/img][hr][b][color=dimgray]Location:[/color][/b] Road To Grimm I (Roads of Chicago -> Gary, Indiana)
[b][color=ff4500]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A 
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	With a little bit of luck, interspersed with much in the way of swearing and the forced necessity of cracking a window ([i]yeah thanks, Keystone[/i]), the foreign duo from Machete Security Services finally made their way from the tangled, intensely busy streets of Chicago proper and into the metro area beyond. The road opened up, and thankfully they were finally able to put some real distance behind them. There was the slightest piece of disappointment on behalf of the larger of the two men; while Keystone was accustomed to life in large cities (London being his place of origin and the initial location that slung stones at anything akin to his happiness as a youth), he was under the impression that Chicago was a smaller city than his own home. He would be very correct in this assumption (three times as small, point of fact), but he had forgotten to take into consideration the massive metro area surrounding the city proper. He had really wanted to catch a glimpse at the extremely vast open spaces commonly depicted in movies set in the American Midwest. Instead, he saw a broad view of city, followed by city, followed by more city. 

	Caesar, meanwhile, was past the point of caring about the scenery. In the back of his mind, he was already gouging out the eyes of Agent Tinder. Maybe pump him full of amphetamines so that he wouldn't be physically able to pass out when the old man set his genitals on fire. Perhaps something resembling a mashup between jumper cables and tentacle pornography. Oh, Caesar knew of some good ways to inflict pain. His years struggling against the cartels in Mexico had exposed him to some very interesting methods of torture, at least on a conceptual level. He had to concede that, not being an experienced [i]torturer[/i], persay, he might very well go way too far and too quickly to really get the most fun out of seeing the man writhe and kick and beg Caesar to kill him instead of continuing to inflict various serious hurts upon the poor bastard's body. Now, killing a man - that's where he was a pro. In new and inventive ways sometimes, using the environment to his advantage as ideas took him. Maybe it came slow, maybe it came fast. But death was no stranger to Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez. He had sent many a man and woman to the steely embrace of Dama Muerte, and likewise had come close to it himself over his long decades of life. It was really only a matter of time before he breathed his last as got to see what all of them had experienced; that which he had only glimpsed from afar or viewed reflected in the eyes of the dying. 

	Back to Keystone, who glanced occasionally over in the direction of his employer. He was starting to get a little nervous, eyeing the expression on the old man's face. He wanted to inquire as to what thoughts occupied Caesar's mind at the time but quickly thought better of it. It was better this way. If he had a thought that was beneficial to their mission (or mission[i]s[/i], as the case may be), then Keystone was confident that it would be shared, immediately or in due discourse. And more importantly, he didn't want to interrupt the man's thoughts, whatever they might be, because the horrific yet pleased expression Caesar was giving was frankly giving him the willies. Nah, talk could wait for a while. 

	The minutes continued to roll by as they rolled down the highway. Before they managed to see much in the way of a legitimate break between urban/residential areas, their SUV had crossed the Illinois-Indiana state line. Already the big man breathed a sigh of relief. The weapon laws were a lot less strict here, and the state honored permits issued from other states or like municipalities. When they stopped for gas or something to drink, they could more properly arm themselves without fear of invoking the wrath of the local law enforcement entities. But not now. They were on the road and that was all that mattered right then; nearing their destination and getting started. As the trip progressed further into Indiana, there peeked more in the way of greenery from the sides of the road and the area looked less like a single continuous city. Trees, even. Some of them pretty big. It wasn't until they began to head south out of the city of Gary that either of them gave much else in the way of notice to their surroundings as they continued more or less in the cardinal direction, away from the Great Lake.