Sigil

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Caesar Gonzalez

---

Location: La Hacienda

---

---

Benecio nodded in acquiescence, waving over one of the men approaching from the courtyard. They had a quick back-and-forth, with the priest pointing to the back of the vehicle, after which the two of them began loading each other up with baggage and personal effects. Even Caesar's heavy case made it into the mix, a fact that the older man noticed but said nothing about. There was an implied trust there, a sense that was not present in Caesar elsewhere. The man was literally surrounded by family. Mostly extended and as many by marriage as by blood, but family nonetheless.

The young woman sobbing in Caesar's arms straightened up suddenly with the approach of the older lady carrying a young child. She quickly dried her tears and whispered, "There's a lot to say, Tio. Promise me we'll talk later?" The old man nodded, but did not speak. He noticed the woman approach as well and seemed to mentally brace for something. "I'll find you in a little while, okay?" were her last words before walking toward the main house, away from the increasingly awkward moment.

Caesar patiently waited until her conversation with Natasha was finished and she addressed him directly before speaking. When he did, it was with respectful but assertive tones. "Hola, Maria. It has been a long time. I am so very sorry." His eyes went to the child on her hip but he did not mention anything right that second, preferring to deal with one minor issue at a time. "The surgeon is here for Cecily's care. They both have been a great help, and needed to get out of the city. They are our guests." he looked the woman dead in the eyes, "We did not meet until after."

Giving some direct attention to the very new child, Caesar took the conversation in a different direction. "Beautiful baby. I don't remember getting notice about a birth." As the family's patriarch, it was considered respectful for the far flung members of the Gonzalez clan to have sent him a message concerning a new child being brought into the world, if just to get a blessing in passing for it. Usually, these things would mean a gift on Caesar's part, monetarily or something meaningful. Mostly monetarily, though. But here was a child on the hip of one who has bourne a Gonzalez, and he had heard nothing. Lacking simple oversight or disrespect, this might mean that the child was not of his blood. "Is this one yours, or are you watching it for someone?" A blatant example of fishing for information. It was quite possible that the woman had passed her childbearing years, though Caesar wouldn't put it past the realm of possibility out of her sheer force of will, which in his experience was often enough to bend the effects of time and physics.

Benecio glared back at the situation developing between Maria and Caesar and shook his head sharply. His face suddenly changed into a hospitable smile as he looked back at Natasha and Cecily, and he encouraged, "Come on, we'll get you set up upstairs." He began to lead them into the main house.

Those following Benecio and the as yet unintroduced porter would have been led through a cobblestone courtyard with what appeared to be an empty shrine of some kind in the center back area. Several cushions were upon the ground in even intervals, as it used like seating, with proper chairs around the outside. Fitted wood, stained and smooth, spanned the length of what appeared to be a recessed water feature, such as a smaller indoor pool or cistern access, and toward the side there was an actual, old-fashioned stone well with manual pump slightly offset. Tables were set up on either side of the empty shrine, and similar tables, all cleared, rested near the main entrances to the courtyard. This place had the look of an event yet to happen.

He led them through a side entrance and up a single set of stairs to the upper floor overlooking the courtyard as one massive balcony, and then to the nearest door on their left. This he opened and entered, beckoning others to follow. Benecio carefully set the bags down and opened the curtains to the exterior windows, allowing in more than adequate light. Two well appointed double beds dominated the room, with plenty of space for two people to maneuver simultaneously between them. A thick wooden wardrobe stood on each side of the room, near the beds, and there was a desk, smallish round table, and two chairs. There was a closed door, presumably to a bathroom, and another open door leading to a wholly separate area containing two sectional couches, a long, stocked bar, laden bookshelves, a dark, polished wood coffee table, and a flat screen television of proportions most luxurious. There was another door opposite the one they entered, closed, and one leading back to the balcony, also closed.

"Please, make yourselves at home." he offered, singling Caesar's bags out from Cecily's and Natasha's. He sent the other man on his way and continued speaking, "The main room is at your disposal, as well as anything inside of it. You will find a pantry and refrigerator behind the bar if you need it. The other members of the household will give you your privacy while you are in these rooms, but otherwise, you will be around a lot of people. Oh, which reminds me - the other bedroom is occupied. I hope you do not mind; it belongs to my daughter when she is in town."

"The main kitchen downstairs is also at your disposal, as is the pool out back and the gardens. The kitchen... well, best of luck with any privacy down there. The other members of the Familia know about your presence and those who know English have been asked to speak it as much as they can when you are around. If you need anything, anything at all, ask anyone. They will help you. Oh yeah, WiFi password is on a card on the desk."

In the meantime, please rest, wash, refresh. I will let my little girl know that you are settling in now. Feel free to knock." Benecio exited the room, made a quick sign of the cross to the open doorway, and gave a parting, "Our Lady's blessings be upon you." before retreating down the hallway.

---

---

J. Keystone

---

Location: Queensguard Industries R&D, Security Hub

---

---

Back in Justice, Keystone was pretty much leaving the new Hub's setup to the Seattle Tech group, who had vastly more knowledge and experience doing this particular job. He did take note of the faces around the room, which ones had remained since he first set foot on the premises despite massive and sweeping change that had befallen the company in such a short time. Those who grumbled and wailed the least were, in his opinion, either the ones in need of a raise or people who might not need to be there, owing to possible espionage. He was putting the hurt to a few people, leaning hard on others. It was not perhaps the best management technique ever. Hopefully, El Jefe would find an appropriate replacement for him before too long. Keystone didn't want to destroy the company's Justice branch, although it felt like they were at war, prompting him to want to push back against the aggressors somehow. It was cumbersome, wishing to do more yet being limited to business as usual.

Instead, he sent a message to Caesar.

Tech team in place, London team in the air. Standing by. Will report via email. You lot stay safe.

While it wasn't quite as useful as full access to her laptop, Keystone did make good on his promise to grant access to Alicia's company intranet account to the new team. It wouldn't provide the access that an active Director's account otherwise would, her being deceased, but it would contain everything she had done (officially) prior to her demise. After they assessed the branch's current security situation and shored up the defenses, so to speak, it would provide an excellent place to begin their internal audit. In the meantime, he had to content himself with processing daily paperwork and managing a staff of security agents going about their routine. They still had an R&D facility to maintain, lest their contract come under fire. Bills needed to be paid somehow.

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

@Lady Amalthea

Okie dokie. Continued tracking attempts for Foy, utilizing Perception, Stealth, and Recon.

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

---

---

Foy Coiffeur

---

Location: Merchant Area

---

The enigmatic and mustachioed Prince Dapper gave a knowing wink in Dorothy's direction. He didn't really want to admit this to himself, but he was rather having a good time traipsing about Newhope, annoying the hell out of Dorothy with his false flirtations, and plying his skills as a former Constable and Central Government Agent in in his attempt to track down their as yet elusive quarry. He was not quite within the boundaries of his Happy Place, but he was in the neighborhood. Now, if only they could catch a quiet and candid glimpse of their endgame before she got along too far, that would put him into a truly better mood.

"Shall we, madame? It would be pitiable were we to be stymied at this juncture by a mere alleyway. Come along, let us see what this unwashed loading space might divulge to us." Foy walked the first few steps into the alleyway, then surreptitiously filled a hand with one of his Colt revolvers as soon as he was out of the viewing range of the majority of the viewing public. This alley was supposed to be the only other means of exiting the dressmaker's shop, the location indicated by the generally unpleasant (but highly skilled) leatherworker he had intentionally overpaid for his insight. Quietly, he explained to Dorothy his intent, even as he looked for signs from within the alleyway. "Logic suggests that our erstwhile uninvited offender had not exited through the front of the locale. Extrapolating upon that assumption, one is led to believe that said individual stole herself into this locale in order to tend to injury, hence I do not search remotely as hard for signs of blood. However, our villainous vixen may very well have given us the slip, and with fewer instances of foot traffic in this dank and unkempt section of the quarter it should increase the likelihood of my keen observations detecting the direction she may have taken, if any. My goal is to suss out signs of the recently disturbed, you see. I fear that a lack of sign here may very well end this chase, and myself financially put out for it."

Foy shook his head slowly. The spike of adrenaline, the changing environments within the last minutes, the overall thrill of the chase had definitely swept him up. If only he were getting paid for it. Nonetheless, he was going to do his job to the best of his ability, and win or lose this investment of his time, he was going to eventually return to his belongings, change into something more suited to his level of refinement, and have a nice evening with his dear friend Jahosafat. Whether this was to celebrate a victory or merely as a farewell celebration sending him upon his way would remain to be seen; he would approach either with equal gusto.

Approaching the rear of the clothiers, Foy took in whatever detail he could ascertain about the place. The trespasser had to have come this way, else was still inside. In the same position, Foy would not have hunkered down unless he knew that the business was a safe house, of sorts, and certainly would not have run straight to an established safe house if he suspected pursuit. No, this was desperation. She would have wanted to leave, he assumed, and this was the most likely place of egress. If he could even determine a direction, it would be a start.

---

---

William Harper

---

Location: Prometheus - Newhope (Docks)

---

Speaking to the Doctor from Farraday was a cumbersome thing. He was just as verbose as the other man, Foy, but at least his attempt at cheer seemed more genuine. The level of excitement was perhaps a bit much, but Harper had never been to Farraday. Perhaps it was a dull place. From the looks of Dr. Moreau and his friend The Barber, he very much doubted that assumption, however. Such was the variable want of any moneyed individual, he supposed, that having one's basic needs met by strength of coin, one had the luxury of boredom and the desire to go to lengths to alleviate it.

Anisa's comment was not unoticed. Harper used it as a segue to return to his previous task of getting his belongings into his new quarters, with returning commentary of, "Quite informative, yes. We should discuss this more, later." He gave a quick nod to both Jahosafat and Anisa, addressing them both, "Doctor, Captain. Excuse me." before taking his leave. It was a short trip to wheel his belongings into the main cargo area and up a straight shot of stairs immediately to one side. Say what you will about the Dragonfly Class vessel, its deckplans were simple and ergonomic, especially for Harper's needs at the moment. It took him a minute to get up the stairs while pulling his belongings behind him, but he really didn't own much at all. It was a circumstance caused by only being three days out of prison after having to abandon the person you once were, before being stuck on an Alliance vessel (which was pretty much the same thing as prison). If there were an upside to the circumstance, it did make relocating himself easy.

Up the stairs, a quick right, and he was in front of his new quarters next to the Bridge. Harper sighed, both in relief and with mild anxiety. Lieutenant William Harper, Alliance Officer and Pilot would officially be classified as MIA by the Fleet after a long while. The I.A.V. Retribution was officially a Black Ship, and didn't exist anymore. There was nothing proving that he was ever there officially, which would work out to his favor. He didn't have to abandon this persona. Harper was a non-person, and that suited him just fine. Furthermore, there was no manifest that had him as part of this crew yet, either, if there ever would be. He was effectively safe, for the time being, at least from the Alliance. Fingers crossed.

Harper entered his room. It was spartan, as far as civilian lodging went, but compared to his sleeping alcove in the penal colony, or even his room upon the Retribution, it was luxury. A bed, terminal, desk (with chair!), some shelving, and even a plumbing wall unit. It had been years since he had access to his own, personal toilet. A lesser man might have fainted.

He decided not to unpack his few belongings immediately, opting instead to drop it off and return to the rest of the crew outside to load their supplies and sundries into Cargo. There was still a question as to what to do with the personal effects of the fallen crewmembers, even though he had no real interest in picking through their belongings himself. Just something to figure out.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

---

Ash Holloway

---

Location: Medical Garden (10)

---

---

It was a mild mental stutter, hearing Thana refer to James as "that hick". Perhaps there was something he missed in conversation earlier; it wouldn't have been the first time. Hell, it wouldn't have been the first time today. As it turned out, Ash did have some of James's notes, tucked into the back of his belt, but he meant to peruse them before handing them over. "He did. At least I think he did." He reached behind him and produced the two notebooks from behind himself. "He handed these to me as he was leaving. Wanted to make sure Newnan knew where it had come from, agriculturally speaking, and hopefully where he lay his plans for its future. I had hoped to give them a once-over, but I see no reason we can't look at them together."

Ash listened closely to what Thana was saying, mostly because he was interested in what she had to say about their present situation with the Garden, but partly just because he liked the sound of her voice. It was enrapturing, but still very professional. "Absolutely, we have those things on hand, Thana. Some can be found around here, but mostly we're going to want to hit Agricultural Storage, just to the side of our crop area. Probably get a wheelbarrow there, too. We can head that way now, if you're inclined, or you can make a list and have your new staff bring them to you."

Their new Agriculture Lead was certainly getting into things quickly. The very least Ash could do was lend his support, and besides, there was no way that a key was getting copied until after the machine shop was cleaned up and someone reported in. That might be a ways of, and he could think of no better company to keep in the meantime.

---

---

...tonight's feature presentation...

Episode 58: "The Phone Call"

starring

Thalia Carmichael and James Mandingo Grady

featuring

Lola Holler as "The Kiwi"

---

---

Is anyone answering? That was a hell of a question. Thalia lowered her seat out of the turret proper and leaned over to Lola instinctively so that she might share in what was one of the more momentous occasions of the season, even moreso than when they ran across that abandoned but virtually untouched Stop n' Shop a couple of months back. In a quiet voice, she responded, "Ha fucking ha. No, no one's answered. You'll know the second I say "Hello", okay Lola?" There was irritation in her voice, mostly because she didn't want to miss the first few words in a conversation that hadn't happened yet because of (understandably) anxious questions.

Lola leaned in a bit. She felt like a teenager again, almost like making a prank call and not wanting people to hear them. Then came the words from above the tank. Oh yeah, they had a passenger. "Nunya," she laughed as she looked up and then back over towards Thalia. Half of her wanted to shout out that they were making a phone call but this was Thalia's thing and she wasn't about to go spilling the beans. "Fine, fine, fine," she said as she tried to press her ear to the side of the phone with her mate. God, three way calling would have made this a hell of a lot easier.

At the warehouse, things were a little more chaotic. James had brought down the tailgate and was climbing up into the bed of his Silverado, determined to put his little "ghost" incident behind him. It was just stress. Stress was natural after you have to put down two of your friends before they turned into snarling undead and ate more people, then get exiled from the only place you'd called home in years for cold murdering the man you felt was responsible for their deaths in the first place. These things happen. If he had to admit it to himself, he might mention that his starry, homespun optimism had taken a bit of a beating. But damnit, James was going to see this through. If by some miracle they all survived the day, this particular blackneck was going to hold his friends close to him, keep them safe and fed to the best of his proven ability. Part of that involved getting his plan underway, the first section of that being taking stock of their supplies, both in his truck and in that houseboat, both.

The plan got shuffled as Gavin, good natured though he was, jumped the gun on James's plan just a little bit by insisting they discuss their plans sooner than he would have preferred. This provoked an understandable response from Ryan that James was about to address until he spoke his next words, mentioning a phone. James halted, his own ears picking something not quite usual coming from the back of his truck. "Naw, you ain't crazy..." he said with some wonder. "Alicia!" Not that he thought it was her, but the last time he heard that noise, it was when he was with her. It came from her... "Sat phone!" he called. James scrambled to find the unexpected device before the sound went away, carelessly sliding things hither and yon until he came upon the source of the repeating tones, a simple, black cased satellite phone with a nearly full charge, indeed receiving a call from a contact labeled "Ángel - Prima". James's hands shook slightly as he lifted the phone to his ear, pushing the Answer button.

"Um... Hello?" It felt weird speaking into a phone again.

Lola nearly jumped out of her skin as her ear pressed to part of the phone so she could hear. At the sound of James voice she leaped up and banged her head against the top of the tank. Rubbing it but laughing manically, "Holy fuck, who the fuck, did you hear that fuck? How the fuck? Fuckingly fuck fuck!"

On the other side of Newnan, to the north, Thalia was just as nervous as James. Maybe more. Someone actually picked up. But on top of that, what surprised the absolute hell out of her was the fact that, though she had called Alicia's number, the person who answered sounded nothing like her. A couple of seconds ticked by before she could answer with firm voice. But it was a very firm voice. "Thalia Carmichael, MSS Boston office. To whom am I speaking?" It sounded quite businesslike. Thalia had half expected her cousin to answer, or at least someone formerly attached to the company. She looked expectantly to Lola, motioning to her friend and the phone, curious as to whether she wanted to be introduced.

Slipping back down to Thalia, Lola half grabbed the phone and her companions hand, pulling the thing close to her mouth. "And me, and me! Sgt. Lola Rebekah Holler, New Zealand Army, Kiwi extraordinaire!" she bellowed into the phone laughing as she gave a salute. Like he could see the salute but she didn't care, she saluted nonetheless.

"I'm James, ma'am. And, um... ma'am." he answered with some confusion apparent, though his voice began to raise with his trademark optimism. "That's James Mandingo Grady, ma'am-and-ma'am! Veteran Hog Hunter and backwoods Folk Legend! Yes, the one and only Black James (on the tout and suite of thangs) formerly outta Lee County, Georgia and parts beyond! Hells yeah, is it good to hear from somebody! Whoo!" Either he was really going crazy now and was just running with it, or this might be a stroke of good luck.

Lola's eyes moved over to Thalia. That was one hell of an introduction but it really didn't seem to answer Thalia's question in Lola's mind. It was odd, what was this person babbling about. "What the fuck is a Black James? Is that like that fucking Spotted Dick them Brits eat?" she asked half confused, half serious.

Over in the tank, Thalia looked from Lola to her phone, and her phone back to Lola. The next few seconds were spent wondering precisely what the hell was wrong with everyone she's come across since leaving Fairburn. "Um, yeah." The lack of rat's asses to give was apparent in her voice. Then a very negative thought struck, and the stern Security Specialist in her came to the forefront. "Are you with the company, James? Or are you some asshole who pried useful electronics out of the wrong person's hands?" Thalia had long suspected that her family might be deceased. Simple question of odds and numbers; the per capita number of jackasses and Zeds vastly outnumbered decent folk anymore. Thalia covered the receiver and whispered to Lola, "If this is just some fuckwit that got in a lucky shot and killed Prima for her shit, there will be hell to pay. I need to see his eyes when he tells me."

The kiwi nodded and rolled onto her back side as she sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest. Rocking back and forth like some demented crazy that was in a straitjacket the others just couldn't see. "Well, I do have a tank." This was a common line from Lola, it essentially meant that she could run over people if needed. She had no qualms running over some spotted dick for Jet.

The change in the tone of the conversation was most definitely noted by James. His voice came down from its more euphoric high to something more sobering. "Naw, sweetness. I ain't with yo Company. This here phone belonged to one o' the best friends I had in my life, an' you can believe that." The voice on the other end of the line answered with the tiniest hint of emotion, presumably because of his use of wordage in the past tense. "No, Mr. Grady. I really can't believe that, or anything else you're saying right now. I don't know you. Fuck happened to my Prima, James?"

Back in the tank, tears were welling in Thalia's eyes. "Jet... what's wrong?" Lola asked quickly as she leaned forward. Tears were not exactly an action she was used to Thalia executing.

This man - this stranger - was about to tell her something she long believed was an overwhelming possibility. For a second, she clung onto the hope that he was going to mention someone other than her cousin, that someone else happened upon the phone stashed someplace, and her family was still alright. A tiny, misplaced hope that a young girl might tell herself, not the pragmatic and hardened woman she was now. She was already shoving it back down when he heard the odd twang of his Georgia rural accent rolling gently through the speaker, "Sorry girl. I don't know no Prima. Lady this belonged to, name was Alicia."

The next few seconds saw Thalia slumped in her chair, soundless tears running from her eyes. Lola leaned in more, resting her hand on Thalia's shoulder and looking over her friend with concern in her eyes as her lips thinned. Her face was otherwise emotionless. The phone issued a single-word question masquerading as a salutation. "Hello?"

Looking down at the phone Lola took it away and put it to her ear as her eye narrowed. "Alright ya spotted dick, what the fuck did ya just say to send my mate into shock?" she hissed into the phone.

It hadn't immediately occurred to James, but hindsight was smacking him for his lack of consideration. If someone was calling the phone in his hand, especially if their name was already programmed in as a contact, they had to know each other from Before. There was momentary doubt about that name, seeing that it showed as "Angel Prima" and the woman introduced herself as "Thalia". Must be a handle or a nickname, he reasoned. James knew he was moving into uncomfortable territory. He addressed Lola with this in mind. "Aw shit, Sergeant... This lookin' all kinds o' personal."

"...I'm fine, Lola..." Thalia's words were low and quiet. She had been bracing for this for quite some time, but actually hearing words describing her familia like they were gone, casually. If this man truly knew Alicia and they were friends, it must have been some time since she was referred to in the present.

Back on the phone, James was trying to find a way to tell the foul-mouthed Kiwi and the equally foul-mouthed Bostonian that someone probably very close to them was dead. The thought crossed his mind that they probably didn't know that her father was dead, too. This was not going to be easy. "Look, hon... This ain't a talk for over the phone. Maybe we ought meet up, if'n we're not too far out. Talk in person." The problem being, they were on satellite phones. For all James knew, the two of them were in Australia, trucking down the highway in search of wallabies to eat. "Where you at?"

"He wants to know where the fuck we are..." Lola said in a hushed voice as she covered the receiver of the phone. Oh she wasn't havin' none of that shit. If this man was already causing her best mate to produce tears, something until that moment Lola wasn't even sure that Thalia had been capable of. Fuck she wondered half the time if Thalia even had tear ducts. Now he wanted to know where they were? Oh, he could come. She's bowl his Black ass right on over. "Some shit town of 85 S called Newnan. Where the fuck you be. Be more than happy to meet up with ya mate and get all this straightened out." Lola meant what she said but straightened out to her meant two things. Either find out exactly what happened or steam roll his ass over until he was flatter than a pancake on the asphalt.

"Newnan? You in Newnan? You can't be in Newnan!" James obviously lacked diversity in his thought process at the moment. "We just come from Newnan! Now, if y'all're nearabouts Newnan, I can give you some directions in. Just one thing, little lady: Trust gotta come both ways. Answer me now; What name come up on my caller ID? It wasn't Lola an' it sure as hell ain't Thalia."

"How da fuck I be knowing what name came up on the caller ID on the phone you are holding? What am I, Miss Cleo?" Lola quipped giving Thalia a look.

Thalia had recovered her composure, but she was undoubtedly crestfallen. She gave Lola a questioning look and reached out her hand for the phone. Lola shrugged a bit before speaking again. "If you would hold a moment, a representative will be right with you," she said and handed the phone over to Thalia. With a dead tone, Thalia announced her presence on the phone by stating, "Representative."

"The hell, lady?" questioned James, thoroughly confused at this time. He shook his head, and repeated himself, "What name come up on my caller ID, huh? If you two're tight with my Alicia, one of you is gonna know what she called you."

Thalia sighed. "Angel. It probably said Angel. Everyone in my family has calls me that. Called me that."

"Uh huh. And what does "Prima" mean?"

"It means "cousin", Mr. Grady. First cousin."

There was more silence. James considered the implications of what she had said. The least he could do was give it a chance, let this woman know what happened before he ran off and probably got himself killed. "I'm real sorry, hon. There's more you need know. Tell you what, how 'bout you folk come our way? We about a mile outside Newnan proper; lemme know where you guys're at and stay on the line, I'll lead you right in. We good?" He quickly added, "Any shady business though, we gonna have us a different kinda meetin'. Feel me?"

Her mournful nature aside, Thalia had to suppress a smile. If they meant anything shady, Mr. James would have his different kind of meeting with the business end of a modified Stuart tank. Her more commanding presence was returning, as evident by her strength of tone, "Yeah. Feel you."

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

@rivaan

Vladimir asked Constantin to locate and return with a specific item from the Circus's cold weather gear. It's in the post. If you can think of anything else, specifically, that is available in the period and would reasonably be there, have at it. Run it by me in PM, though.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

@rivaan

For the sake of moving things along, I'd say sure. I believe the note I left at the bottom of the post for Viktor was:

Co-GM's Note: For the sake of simplicity, just assume that Viktor locates and gets you what you need, as long as you tell him specifics.

Bascially, he's going to saunter over to the storage wagons with you, find the circus's cold weather gear, and when you tell him specifically what you need he will locate it quickly and hand it to you. By all means, assume that it is in the process of being done for purposes of posting.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

@Lady Amalthea

Hi. Umm, need to request an edit, got some text color off.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Reginald Keystone

---

Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

---

---

Qasr El Nil Barracks

The reiteration of Peter's determination to do what he chose with his portion of the family's fortune (plus his own formidable back salary, Reginald wagered) set well with the Lord Major, who responded with pragmatic support. "Well spoken, sir! Tower of London, indeed. My dear brother, your father, was always the stodgy sort. Everything proper and level, no sense of adventure. I have always believed that the dashing good looks and social graces of our generation was wasted on him, though I do find myself abundantly pleased that he has passed both along to you, Peter. To Hell with convention and to Hell with propriety, lad!"

Reginald rose from his desk, vigor streaking through his otherwise tired and portly physique. For a moment, he looked like a younger man; one ready to set forth into the great, wide beyond, a boy journeying to the encompassing call to arms and glory. "We are about to set upon a grand adventure, Peter! The greatest test a man can give himself, to pit his mettle against forces both mundane and preternatural! Yes! The overt declaration of solid self-determination; to set goals for one's self and destroy them, etching one's name in the chapters of history! Discovery! Exploration! Glory of martial victories! What ho, lad?"

Clearing his throat, Reginald took his seat again. "Apologies, Peter. It seems my enthusiasm often gets the better of my common sense. But the spirit of my words is valid. If you are willing to fund, then I am willing to accept. If you find yourself in the unfortunate situation of slipping into financial disaster, worry not. I shall ensure that you live your remaining days in the manner expected of a noble Keystone, you see."

His voice much more reserved after his dramatic outburst, he waited patiently until Peter had spoken the remainder of his piece. he followed it up with, "No no, lad. I am waiting for word back from two different sources right here in my office, and I must get on the phone besides to solicit assistance from my branch equivalent elsewhere in the Cairo area. You run along to the Museum. If you need a better excuse to visit Vera, tell her you're personally fetching that list for me."

Perhaps it was the fervor with which the Lord Major had pitched himself just moments before, but it seemed that Peter, ordinarily a genteel man with a good head for vocabulary actually used a touch of profanity. Reginald was shocked, to say the least. ...but, but we're British... he wanted to say, but instead tried to look beyond his little bluster. Of course, yes. Any friend of yours, Peter. But if you would? Same security protocol of every visitor, however. Have at it, then."

---

Meanwhile, back at the Prison, The Corporal and the representative from Legal were having just the swellest time alternating between sitting inside of the Rolls Royce and standing around it, killing time. There had been a reasonable expectation that the two of them would be allowed to be present for the questioning of their two charges, but it seemed that the courtesy of Cairo's municipal bodies had waned as of late. As such, our benevolent Corporal spent his time tapping the buttons on his uniform, rifling through his pockets for lint and bits of loose change, and limbering up his voice.

"Me me me meeeeeeee..." Pause for momentary throat clear, "La la la LA la la laaaaaa..." Sadly, he appeared to have a distinct lack of vocal ability, except burst volume. "Do Re Mi Fa So La Te ... Sod it..."

He cleared his throat again, continuing, "La la la la - Lo lo lo lo... Looo-o-o-o- ooord MAAAAAAJOR!" Yep, that outta do it.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Lady Amalthea

Hello. Seeing as one of an extremely rare few unexpected phone calls is taking place (like expected phone calls are so frigging common), would you like to collab the interaction between Thalia, Lola, and James? The only reason I'm asking at all and not just posting for my two characters is that I hold no realistic expectation that a personality like Lola is going to politely remain outside of the conversation.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Caesar Gonzalez

---

Location: Streets of Monterrey -> La Hacienda

---

---

Caesar said little as the limousine traveled along the streets of Monterrey. There was the occasional grunt and nod of agreement as they discussed their plans for the day, or rather, as Benecio addressed Cecily and Natasha about their plans for the day. Caesar had buried many people. He knew the drill. Benecio had officiated the deaths of many people. He also knew the drill. But with the (slightly) younger Gonzalez brother talking, one might have seen the hurt in his eyes. This was personal. This was his niece laying dead in the hearse in front of them. Talking seemed to keep his emotions in greater check.

The old man's voice was heard, in the form of an irritated "¡Ay!" as their car took a corner and ran over the edge of the sidewalk, again, the second time since they set out. A muffled but equally irritated "Sorry!" could be heard from the other side of the partition in perfect American accent. Caesar lowered the partition about an inch, just enough for clear communication. He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead shook his head and remained silent. Benecio was conversational, if understanding of their position. "If either of you ladies feel the need to rest your eyes for the trip, I will not be offended. Travel takes a lot out of me, too. There is time for a short nap." But he did continue, "La Hacienda Gonzalez is a lovely place, but it was not always thus. Originally, it was an old Spanish Mission, built to service the needs of a pilgrims and travelers on the road. There were rumors that evil spirits haunted the mountains very nearby. It was used as a fort for a time, after the church pulled out, and then as the centerpiece of a village, until it was mostly abandoned. This is where Caesar and I grew up.

Caesar gave Benecio a long, hard look as he gave up a portion of their life story. It wasn't really much of a huge deal, though. He was just curious as to why his brother was being so forthcoming. But the subtle lines of pain in his face let him know. Caesar sighed, but he did begin talking. Laying a hand on Benecio's shoulder, he picked up for him. "There wasn't a lot of us left. Almost everyone moved out. Rest of us were familia by blood or marriage. We just built it up. Walls, wells, additions to the homes. With our hands at first, then we could put money into it. It looked nice when I saw it last. Been years."

"It is still beautiful, hermano." responded Benecio, speaking as much to their guests as to Caesar. "Three houses with courtyards, surrounding a larger courtyard. Spanish tile, cobblestones, thick, soft grasses and moss. Pools, gardens. I have taken every cent you have sent us, Caesar, put it into our home." his voice shifted, "You should come back to us. It's yours, anyway. I'm just taking care of it for you."

The elder Mexican growled softly and refused to respond.

The rest of the trip passed with Benecio answering any questions thoughtfully and honestly. They had made it out of the city proper, and the buildings became smaller and more rural in nature almost immediately. Similarly, they became much more spaced out. Their speed increased now that they had hit more open road, and in less time than one might give the distance credit, they were pulling up a gentle hill toward what looked like a manned fort.

It was everything that Caesar and Benecio had described, and more. High, thick walls surrounded the estate, topped with curved iron bars in some places and thick, jagged glass in others. There were many people present, and many vehicles sporting campers, along with the occasional RV. Tents were set up, grills, pavilions, etc., as if this were a public park or campsite. The occasional generator dotted the scene with heavy cords running from them. But that was just on the outside. There was a gateway of carved stone encircling wrought-iron gates and formidable wooden doors bound with black metal. These were open, revealing a huge courtyard with grass and benches in the center. Three traditional looking Spanish Colonial houses were constructed around this courtyard, two stories tall each and all of them looking very much like they were trapped in time. The one in the center was decidedly larger than the other two, sporting a partial third floor to the rear that appeared useful as a guard post or sniping area. Balconies were everywhere, stone and metal both.

People moved from place to place within the estate, casually doing their work or merely visiting, but very few went into the larger dwelling. The limo pulled into an open-air parking garage reminiscent of a stable, and the car's engine cut off. They had arrived. Benicio was the first to speak, "If you do not wish your bags to be handled by others, please mention now. Otherwise, I will show you to your rooms." He opened his door and stepped to one side to get the other door, holding up a finger to halt the men approaching the vehicle.

Meanwhile, Caesar exited the door nearest him and tapped on the driver's window. A much younger lady slowly opened the door and stepped out. The only thing that marked her as a chauffeur was her cap; the rest of her attire consisted of semi-perforated jeans, a long green shirt, and a fitting, leather motorcycle jacket. She popped off the cap and lay it in the driver's seat, closing the door behind her. She was lighter of skin and had bobbed pixie cut of thick, black hair that looked like it was two weeks past needing a trim, falling just over glaring, hazel eyes common to a particular bloodline. The two of them looked at one another for a solid few seconds. It was abruptly cut off by a sharp clapping sound as the young lady's hand found connection with the side of Caesar's face, causing an instant stopping of everything happening nearby. Movement ceased.

Another two tense seconds passed, and the woman burst into loud, unrestrained tears, wrapping Caesar into a deceptively strong embrace. Caesar wordlessly returned the gesture, just allowing her to get all of her emotion out. Benicio, ever the diplomat, looked to Cecily and Natasha, "This is personal. Let us get you settled in. Please follow me."

---

---

J. Keystone

---

Location: Streets of Justice -> Queensguard Industries R&D, Security Hub

---

---

In Justice, there was an interesting and particularly stuffed group of MSS employees in an outfitted Dodge Ramcharger hauling ass down the streets and boulevards, pulling haphazardly done California Rolls through intersections where turns were required, and otherwise cruising along in moderate to high spirits. Well, moderate spirits, if we were being honest. The truth was, despite getting the feeling that the Seattle Tech guys were an okay group of people, Keystone felt a sudden twang of guilt. "Shoulda gone with 'em..." he grumbled to no one in particular, maneuvering the vehicle down the road all the while.

"What?" This from Ibanez, in the passenger seat beside him.

"Mexico. Shoulda gone. I knowed Alicia pretty good, better'n a lot. Trained me, she did, protocol and such, whenever they set up in London. Lot of one-on-one stuff. We was friends. I shoulda gone with 'em to see 'er off."

From the backseat, a female voice sounded, "Hey asshat! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. We're all here because we knew her, and we got a job to do. All five of us to take one little her's place, and we still don't have our final piece yet. We're giving her honor by doing our jobs, damnit. Visit her fucking grave later."

Keystone nodded. She was a bitch but she was right. "Fair 'nuff, ya twatbiscuit. All's said an' done, I'm takin' us all on a trip that way, then. Sip tequila, tell Taco Belle stories, yeah?"

About at that time, they pulled up to the first security checkpoint for Queensguard. Keystone flashed his credentials, as did the others in his vehicle. They were promptly scanned, a cursory exterior check was performed on the Ramcharger (plus other, less obvious electronic sweeps), and they were waved in. The big man drove past the regular parking lot, just a touch deeper into the complex before pulling into the Motor Pool. "Sorry 'bout the added walk, lady and gent. Grab your stuff, let's hoof it to the Hub."

As the group removed themselves from Keystone's vehicle and reacquired their gear, Keystone waved over the officer in charge of the garage. "Look, this bugger's a great ride, but she needs some touches, y'understand. Bring her entertainment package into this millennium, yeah? Bloody music system, somethin' I can copy m'tunes into. Bloody radio package, the send 'n' receive type, yeah? GPS! Voice activated 'lecronics! Bloody tow hitch! Automatic cable winch! Make it a modern bloody security wagon! Bulletproof is tops, but that's all she's got." He began to walk back to his Tech crew, but called back behind him, "Full options! No clunky "in my fongin' way" tripe, neither! Replace the dash if you gotta. You got 'til end of business, today. This is your only job." Hopefully, they'd get it done. And by "hopefully", he meant, "heads will roll otherwise".

A few more minutes saw them back at the Security Hub, where the Tech Crew fell into line like they owned the place. They quickly began taking over desk space and rearranging furniture until they had their own knot of technology, existing and their imported gear, and had direct line of sight with each other. Their computers and other personal electronics were interconnected, building upon each other and interfacing with zero lag as a single unit possessing multiple access points. The existing staff could only sit back and witness what was going on, as Keystone gave them the occasional glare or shush gesture. When they were set up, he addressed the rest of the people in the Hub.

"This 'ere's our new Tech Team. Rest of you lot're gonna fall in line under'em. I catch a bloody hint of negative, you are fired, and I will toss you through a bloody window. Send your last fortnight's pay to intensive care. This here's the real deal, ladies and gents. You ain't fully with this, get your arse out. Now." He looked around the room, eyeballing everyone still around. You'll adjust. For the now, someone make coffee. Lots. Give them whatever they need, period."