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Her family didn't like her moving away. Her friends told her she was crazy. Her colleagues were either happy to see her go or "happy" to see her go. Still, Priya couldn't pass up the opportunity when it all but fell into her lap. She considered herself a hard worker, reliable, smart, able to get things done. So when she marched into her boss' office and asked (or demanded, if you wanted to get technical) to be transferred to Justice, she listed off the whys.

It was a hot spot for danger. Deaths happened constantly, but murder? Not so much. It was a detective's dream or nightmare depending on how one looked at it. It was accepted and finalized and she packed up her life in New York and flew across the country to Justice. She settled in nicely in her apartment before she made her way over to Precinct 54.

She dressed professionally but tried to keep it somewhat casual so she didn't appear to be a brown noser (ironic, right?) on her first day. Right off the back, the interaction between the two men laid some of the groundwork for determining how things went around here. It was casual, but at the same time, they were partly serious. She didn't know if she would have to work her way up, but she was prepared to try.

She entered the office and didn't bother to sit. She figured he would give her an assignment and that would be it. Maybe an introduction, but either way, she was itching to get started. "Yes, Khurana. What do you have for me?"

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Seats and tray tables to their original upright position. Glasses collected. Everything from the point of view of air travel professionalism was stored, locked away, or otherwise made orderly. The work done by the attendant was fast and clean, impressive by the standards of airline service persons. His company hired well, in this regard. Caesar was not in a position to really notice or care about the work she was doing, his mind was elsewhere.

Landing in his old hometown had a way of making the situation more real, or at least more present. This was no longer a trip to take care of something important later, this was the beginning of that thing happening now. He had wept for Alicia's passing, and in fact would do so more before this trip was over. Now, the heavy weight of familial responsibility just seemed to drain what personality he had away from him. Cold, solid autopilot mode saw him through collecting his belongings from the plane and, when they pulled into a private hangar, plodding his way down the short staircase to the cement floor below.

Taking that first step upon the firmament was a mildly momentous occasion for Caesar. It was the first time in a very long while that he had been back in Mexico. The air seemed different down here, and not just because of all the fumes from airplane fuel. It was coming back to a home he didn't necessarily want to be in. When he left, his reputation stayed behind. He was the man who took on corruption within the Federal Police and lost people for it. And in the end, all he did was remove a few people in key positions and slaughter dozens upon dozens of lackeys, including many of his fellow officers. Others took their place. The corruption took different forms, but the spirit remained the same. It cemented his belief that, if you want real justice or real security, you had to provide it for yourself. Even to this day, depending upon who you asked, Caesar was either a demon or a legend.

Looking around their hangar, Caesar noted a few things. The first was that there were two vehicles, aside from the plane, present. One was a stretch Towncar, black and shiny. The other was a hearse. Something else he noticed was the presence of both airport security and a single representative from the Mexican Federal Police. As their bags were being offloaded from the plane and into the trunk of the towncar, he was approached by both men.

Security was waved away by Caesar's credentials identifying him as law enforcement, retired. It carried a significant amount of pull in this country still, and served as his pass to carry what he wanted, when he wanted, and avoid much of the hassle of trite things like airport customs (without a compelling reason from a powerful source). The Federale, though - his face had a sense of awe to it, as a man who had just seen a ghost and/or the birth of a new religion. He extended a hand to Caesar, shaking slightly. "Bienvenido de nuevo a Monterrey, Comandante González. Quería ver si era cierto que regresabas."

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Seeing as the only baggage that was still in the carousel belonged to the MSS employees, it was a matter of seconds before the team picked up their belongings and set them aside. Following company protocol, they took a few moments to check their individual bags for any evidence of tampering outside of the occasional not quite closed zipper common to random luggage checks in airports. Satisfied that nothing had been added nor taken away from their gear, the MSS Tech crew uniformly slung on their packs, picked up their laptop cases, and followed Keystone away from the more open areas of the Justice Airport.

The parking structures were conveniently located near baggage claim, as fit the need for a hasty removal of one's self from the airport. Keystone led the group past the rows of taxis and hotel shuttles, charter buses and the like, across the street and to a parking deck. They followed him, walking in simple two-by-two rear flanking formation the entire while. Though Tech, they were still professional security personnel.

When they finally reached Keystone's vehicle, the group immediately set their packs down and opened various cases found within their personals. Each contained a company standard issue firearm with modular clip holster. Two hauled out their laptops while the lady, Vinters, continued to equip herself as a more standard security agent, including forearm snap guards and a set of slimline knuckle dusters. Keystone raised an eyebrow at this. "Said you was Tech, yeah?" he inquired quizzically.

"Yeah." she said dismissively. Her eyes darted up to his briefly. "Yes, sir." she corrected.

Keystone just nodded. He knew the drill with these people. Even though he was SpecOps and that were Tech, the protocol remained the same for arriving on scene from a commercial flight. He opened the back end of the Dodge Ramcharger and began loading their bags into the back as they were done with them. Ibanez used the opportunity to punch a confirmation code into his phone, letting their home office know that they had arrived and were under the care of the MSS contact in Justice, California. Short moments later, they were settled in the vehicle, set up and ready to depart. Keystone started the engine up and let it sit for a few seconds, looked around his Ramcharger at the new faces inside, and asked bluntly,

"So then... Tacos?"

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*Quick Note: Color codes for location headers will denote time of day basically. Not so much tie of day but look for matching ones to see if you are in the same ~time frame~ as others.

MSS Private Jet: Natasha gathered her things and followed Caesar off the plane. She had no idea where to go or what to do at this point other than follow the scary Mexican and take care of her patient. Glancing over at Cecily she forced a bit of a nervous smile as if to say ~well here we go~. "If you feel off in the slightest, let me know immediately," she said to Cecily before continuing behind Caesar. The change in altitude because of the flight and pressure changes because of the plane she knew could cause blood clots and she wasn't about to loose Cecily.

Stopping her tracks as the Federale came over her brow perked as he spoke. She shot Cecily a bit of an odd look before looking back at the man. She knew what he said but she wondered the meaning behind it, either way it didn't seem like he was there on an official job, that his presence was just out of curiosity. The pilot came out and stepped over to Caesar for a moment, "Sir, we will be moving her now," he said in a sympathetic voice before making his way over to the side of the plane and the door of the hearse opening.

Justice Airport: Airport traffic is about as one would expect - it sucks. Mostly caused by the line of cars having to pay for their parking as they leave and most people fumbling around in their cars for money or credit cards to charge it to. Idiots never had that shit ready and waiting even though they ahead already been sitting in line waiting for ten minutes. God forbid they get the money ready while they waited. What made matters worse was the fact that since it was Monday morning most people were not coming back into Seattle and needed to pick up their cars, they were leaving - so there was only one tollbooth to take care of the line.

Zoie's Farm: Zoie pulled out a chair and sat down. "She isn't suspicious of me yet but if I stop taking clients she will become so. That's why we wanted you to provide me with a cover as it were, to pose as a client, so she didn't get suspicious," Zoie explained.

Marc looked at the two siblings. "Yeah but Mali has a point, how would she have access to that stuff?"

That was when Relic chimed in. "Well other than the fact she works for Juno, so she has more access than others. Valentine did have a case. Not here in Justice mind you but Supreme Court Justices can access most any file for cases through out the country," he started. "She gave a child up for adoption. There are records, closed mind you, but they are there and her access is our best best to get a hold of those without raising red flags."

Justice Asylum: There was no nurse at the nurses station when Iris came over but after a minute one finally walked over. Taking a seat she simply gave the doctor a nod of her head as she set down the paper work she had been carrying and started typing on the computer. It looked like she was entering one of the doctors notes into the computer file. She would stop every so often as she pulled the file closer to her, trying to make out the chicken scratch. "Why do all doctors write like a toddler," she pondered to herself out loud.

Gun Range: "Hey! I do!" Roy said quickly. "Reminds me of childhood, in a cardboard castle sort of way," he added with a laugh. Stepping into a private room he closed the door behind them. There were two stalls with a small partition between them, safety gear for eyes and ears bagged. At the end was a wall with many holes in it. On the ceiling was a mechanism that looked like you could clip a target to it and have it wheeled to the end of the room, which was a good 100 feet back.

Setting the bag down on a bench he unzipped it. "Let's start small," he said as he started to go through his guns. "Get the safety glasses on and the sound canceller's ready. This room echoes like a bitch, don't want you deaf when we leave." Pulling out a Kahr PM45, he grinned and waited for Riley to grabbed the safety gear for herself. He had a few things to go over before they really began. Safety first though.

Justice Memorial: The room remained silent save for the static coming from the snow on the TV. Every so often a shadow would pass by the door but it seemed to be nothing more than people walking passed, none of the shadows remained long enough to make it seem like anyone was listening at the door or wanting to enter. Must just have been nurses making their rounds since things in Felix's room looked calm from all accounts. He wasn't flat lining but his pain meds were starting to wear off. As far as him speaking into the air, there was no response and as the moments ticked by it seemed that if anyone did hear him they were responding.

Precinct 54: "Go ahead and have a seat," the Captain said as he flipped open her file. "I was hoping to introduce you to your new partner, but seems he has gone MIA," he said with a tone in his voice that indicated that this wasn't the first time her new partner had vanished. "When we do find him, you will be partnered with Detective Roy Gregory. Pain in my ass cop but he gets the job done. Smart ass, doesn't like partners, so brace yourself. He is walking cliche of good cop with problems," he said as he handed over a file to Priya.

"He currently only has one active file going. His previous cases are closed. Case file 5461-LX-115, a Lance Clemins and David Lawson. The case was closed, they killed each other in a shoot out but for some damn reason our local Supreme Court Justice Lyo. Well she approved it, FBI reopened the case for whatever fucking reason but they aren't sharing shit with us. Might as well start there and see what you can dig up."

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"I think old people like in their seventies and eighties like eating that still." Riley said teasingly as she looked around the room, she'd seen gun ranges in movies and tv shows, but she had never stepped into one before. Saw the other end of the room with various holes riddled into it, then saw the headphones used to cancel out the gun shots. They did remind her when she usually recorded music that they were used and so that she could monitor the music while she recorded, and she also always used ear plugs when she was out performing for a show. Riley grabbed them both out of the bag putting on the glasses then rested the sound cancellers around her neck so that she could listen to Roy before she started shooting.

Riley turned around and made her way over towards the bench as Roy set the bag down onto it, she saw him pulling out a Kahr PM45 it looked pretty small to her then she looked over at Roy. "You don't happen to have a big rocket launcher or a mini gun in there by any chance?" Riley asked jokingly, she was still a bit nervous though. "Anyway, any advice? I know not to obviously to point it at anybody and all of that."

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Cecily followed Natasha and Caesar off of the plane, enjoying having her feet firmly planted on the ground. While she wasn't afraid of flying, there still was a sense of relief to be at their destination and no longer thousands of feet in the air. She had kept her phone in airplane mode, not wanting to be hit with international roaming fees and the likes. She may have been promoted to coroner, but that didn't mean she had a fantastic salary and money to waste.

For a moment, Cecily's heart skipped a beat as she saw airport security and another officer. It had been only a day since she had been shot in an airplane hangar by security officials. But seeing the security officer get waved away and the look of astonishment on the other's face allowed Cecily to relax slightly once more. She didn't think getting freaked out would be at all good for her blood pressure and she didn't want to meet Carrie Fisher just yet. Cecily shrugged slightly at Natasha's questioning glance. Who even knew what Caesar's past looked like, beyond the general descriptor of "bloody?"

Cecily didn't understand what the federale said to Caesar, of course. She caught Caesar's name as well as Monterrey, but that was about it. He could've been calmly discussing killing them all and Cecily wouldn't know. However, the announcement that Alicia's body would be taken off the plane and into the hearse, that she understood of course. She didn't know if she could say or do anything to comfort Caesar, knowing that this was likely just the next wave of grief that would wash over him in this trip, so she remained standing where she was.

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Iris smiled at the woman who came over as she continued to review the various documents about Jaina's placement in solitary. Hearing the woman's quip about doctors having poor handwriting, Iris' smile brightened and she giggled a little bit. "One of my professeurs always said: the handwriting matches the ego. The more unbearable the penmanship, the more grotesque the sense of self." By her tone, it was clear that Iris was mostly joking around. Truthfully, she didn't know why all doctors seemed to have terrible handwriting. She had been taught penmanship at her boarding school since she was a little girl, making her notes perhaps more legible than other doctors.

"I can give it a look, if you'd like. Perhaps I can translate. Which doctors writing is it?" Iris offered. She didn't know the nurse's name, but an orderly had been murdered the day before. Extending a little kindness and help to her coworkers would be good for morale. Iris set aside the paperwork for Jaina's processing, figuring that she might as well see what other patients she had on the schedule to see that day too. But first, she had offered aid. She'd need to see if the nurse would like to accept it.

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Priya took a seat and listened to the Captain talk about her new partner. She worked alongside other cops before of various personalities, so being paired with someone who didn't want a partner wasn't new. She'd seen movies, she read books, she knew the cliches. Roy was probably a decent cop who had a drinking problem or drug problem, maybe an ex-wife and some kids, but he did the job and did it right. She would have to get to know him later when he turned up.

She took the file and decided she would read it after her meeting with the Captain when she had a minute alone. She dealt with the FBI before as well. When you worked cold cases, you tended to run alongside other law enforcement agencies, especially when it dealt with murder.

She was anxious to get started. "I've dealt with the FBI before Captain, I may be able to get some more information. Any idea where I should get started?"

"You say 'we,' but I'm pretty sure me acting as a cover story was entirely your idea. Unless you (Marc) had a hand in this." Which was doubtful, considering that Zoie implied she didn't really tell Marc all that much about what her plans were, at least as far as the short term went. Mali crossed her arms (which was kind of awkward given the bulk of her cast and her arms) and leaned back in the chair.

"And if this is the case, I don't really see what your hold up is. If she's not suspicious, then now's the best time to try something like this. Is there something else here I don't know about? Or did you just join up with Juno and then decided not take advantage of being on the 'inside?' What, were you just hoping that you'd just find somebody else to do all the legwork for you? Yeah it's a risk, but from what I can tell, this entire harebrained scheme is just a series of gambles stacked on top of each other." Mali still wasn't convinced that Zatara would have anything on this case, even with Relic's insistence, but she wouldn't push it anymore than she already had. She could spot a brick wall in a conversation.

Idly, Mali wondered why Valentine would go to the lengths of going to court for putting a kid up for adoption. If you're supposed to be some unperson, surely there would be quieter ways of doing this than simply relying on your friends to erase your existence in the system. Maybe she was just making unrealistic assumptions. When it came down to it, she didn't know how powerful Juno truly was. This might just be the most cost effective manner of doing things.

The silence was getting to him. The sound of the TV static was grating on his eardrums like a knife on a chalk board, the sound never stopping just always existing, the only thing there to remind him he could still hear. Tubes that connected him to the machines were still intact and he stopped himself from moving too much in case he disconnected them or damaged them, his own sanity hurt even more. He had called out to what he had hoped would be salvation. And no one answered.

A sigh escaped his lips as he winced, clenching his fists a little as pain hit him a little, a feeling of dull pain resonating from his eye. Obviously the Meds were wearing off, but he didn't know if coping with the pain was part of recovery or if he would have to call for help again. He looked around the room, the lack of anything interesting hitting him again with a feeling of dissatisfaction. He gritted his teeth. He had to get someone here, he needed the pain to go away right now, hell he needed out for hospital so he wasn't useless like always.

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Caesar shook the Federale's hand. They stood there for a few seconds before the grizzled Mexican spoke. "Sí. Diles que no estoy aquí por negocios." They looked at one another for another moment, and then the uniformed Federale gave him a quick head bobbling nod and left without further word. Caesar gave him a regarding look as he left the hangar, presumably to return to his superiors to inform them that he had no intent to eviscerate a few dozen people during his time in Monterrey.

Then the pilot braced him for the inevitable; Alicia's casket was being brought out of the plane. The hearse door opened, thanks to an attendant, and the pilot opened the cargo hatch of their plane. As the casket was wheeled across the hanger, passing directly by Caesar, the old man could not help but shed a tear or two. He wept, but his face remained as granite. It was a quiet pause of time in that hangar with only the sound of wheels carrying a long, steel box that housed the remains of a once vibrant and powerful woman over to a standard hearse. Caesar took a step or two in the direction of Alicia's remains as it rolled by, but stopped short of committing himself to it. It was not time yet.

One of the back doors of the Town Car opened, and a smooth, rolling baritone voice could be heard from within. The voice spoke in almost perfectly accented English, "It's been a long time, Caesar. You look good." The man to whom the voice belonged stepped out of the back of the stretched vehicle, dressed in the obvious garb of a Catholic Priest. He stepped over to the trio of Natasha, Cecily, and Caesar. The elder Mexican seemed to barely note his presence, not until he came within striking distance. His gaze shot over to the man, and he grunted slight to affirm the Padre's presence.

The priest shook his head, continuing to speak to them all despite Caesar's gruff reception. "Bienvenidos a Mexico. Ladies, Caesar... All of the arrangements have been taken care of. We have rooms made available for you, if you decide to take our hospitality. He looked over to Caesar again, this time with a knowing look. Addressing Cecily and Natasha, he continued, "Forgive me, we have forgotten introductions. I am Father Benicio Gonzalez, Church of La Madrina Inmaculada. Do you lovely ladies work for Caesar?"

The door to the hearse clicked closed, seemingly snapping Caesar out of his lull. The priest noticed, and looking over to the man, said, "I'm so sorry, hermano. We loved her."

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Well, traffic sucked. Like, sucked fully out loud, and they weren't even out of airport yet. The kind of suckage that really only occurs when you want to be someplace in a hurry, like say, oh... when one is anxious to get a new team to their worksite to begin immediate efforts to secure a computer system and initiate a investigation, say? Then decides to leave an airport during a sudden onset of atypical rush hour. That kind of suckage. At the very least, it gave Keystone plenty of time to get his parking slip stub and exact change together as they inched forward to the one toll booth, so as to leave the least amount of aggravation for all parties behind him. Not that they would notice and/or care, but it was something.

The moment they were clear of the toll booth, it was like a window opened, venting away most of the excess car fumes and providing a much better driving experience. It was still a little tight, but soon Keystone was able to get onto the main road and put a little distance between his new tech team and the Justice Airport. In his Ramcharger, the group already seemed to be getting to work, establishing a secure network with their devices inside of his vehicle and exchanging information with one another about their client and location. Aside from asking the occasional, mundane question, they mostly kept to their own shorthanded conversation. It was well enough for Keystone. He was content to merely get them where they needed to go, and provide muscle support in case any of the existing tech people on location got a little difficult. Of course, looking at these new people, there probably wouldn't be much in the way of difficulty.

Keystone glanced into the rearview mirror, accidentally locking eyes with the blonde lady in their group, the one who looked like she was gearing up for a brawl earlier. She smiled at him, briefly, before inquiring in an accent unknown to him, "What? I look like someone?"

He didn't get the opportunity to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a smallish yellow building made of solid concrete with outdoor seating. It was emblazoned with the words "Mr. Burrito!" in stark green and red lettering. Unwilling to hit a returning exit or pull a U-ey later on, Keystone cut across traffic with a squeal of tires and a slew of profanity. When the vehicle came to a complete stop, it was more or less parked in a designated parking space facing Mr. Burrito's exterior walk-up ordering window, near an unoccupied outdoor table. "Right then! You lot're 'ungry, yeah? On me. Go shit'ouse on it." He exited the vehicle and strode up to the window.

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*Quick Note: Color codes for location headers will denote time of day basically. Not so much tie of day but look for matching ones to see if you are in the same ~time frame~ as others.

MSS Private Jet: Natasha wasn't sure what to think of the very short conversation that happened between the Federale and Caesar, her eyes looking over to Cecily for a minute before shrugging a bit. Her attention was then turned to another voice. Her brow cocked a bit, she wanted to say that the man looked slightly like Caesar but last thing she wanted to do was assume and get the "Yeah, you white folk think we all look alike" speech. The fact that the man was a priest made her severely question if he could ever be related to a man that seemed to bring blood and fear everywhere he showed up. (Like in the morgue from a sewer line.)

She smiled slightly toward the man and shook her head. "Gracias Padre. No, no trabajo para el señor Gonzales. Soy la Doctora Natasha Brinne," she said quickly. Her Spanish was a bit more formal than the usual back and forth talk but it was obvious she was fluent at this point. Him calling Caesar brother made her wonder if he meant brother in the church sense or true brother. What the hell, she might as well ask. "¿Son hermanos o hermanos de la iglesia?"

The pilot came back over with a clip board and a sheet of paper on it, holding it out towards Natasha. "Dr. Brinne, can you sign off for this? Or..?" he asked, wondering about the body transfer since this was not something he had done before for the company.

"Oh, yes, I can. I have an international license for humanitarian work and non profits. Since I am not charging for this, it fits," she said as she took the clip board and started signing her signature before handing the carbon copy back to the pilot for them to file away with custom's and handing the original copy over to Caesar. "Just make sure this stays with whoever is tending to her body until burial," she said in a sympathetic voice. Feeling a little off she looked back towards Cecily. "I gotta sit down, this heat is going to be the end of me," she said quietly.

Zoie's Farm: Marc leaned back and shook his head. "Don't look at me, I barely get a word in edge wise when it comes to these two," he said holding his hands up in defeat.

Zoe sighed a bit. "No, been with Juno for a bit but I am a lower level person known as an Aqueduct. We tend to do the leg work for Juno itself. None of us know who all is a member of Juno proper other than when orders come down from above and by their call signs. Which those were actually pretty easy to figure out but there is one above them all from what I can tell but can never get a fix on that one. Shit we don't even know who all our fellow Aqueduct's are unless we are informed. Right now I do know they are up in arms losing one of their circle and that Zatara is in the running to take the woman's place," Zoie said before Relic stood up.

"Either way, Mali's right. Best time is now and all we can do is hope the house of cards stay standing," Relic said as he shoved his laptop into his bag.

"So, what's the plan?"

"For now, we are getting Mali clothed. I have a dinner to attend this evening and I will need her there with me. I already turned down a call this morning to be an escort for the event. It is at the court house. Fund raising event. Totally political for the upcoming elections but will give me cover to be able to get in and try to get the files," Zoie said as she grabbed her purse. "So, dress or suit?" she asked Mali.

"Let's just hope you can," he said as he stepped towards the door, following Marc out to the limo. Relic wondered why the records could still be there but in the end from looking at the picture with Barney Ross - if this was the same girl and comparing it what the daughters age was she had to be a young mother. Probably before she ever got caught up in all of this.

Justice Asylum: The nurse shook her head. "No, it's okay. Used to it, just wish they would retake cursive. Think it would be a third grade skill they would have mastered by now," the nurse grumbled a bit. "Well if that whole ego thing is true, then his must be the size of the pyramids," she chuckled. Pushing the papers aside she finally looked up at Iris.

"So is there anything I can do for you this morning? You're the new one right? Nurse Cratty, head nurse for this floor," she said as she stood up and started to file things away now. "Bed checks were about an hour ago. That patient that went off the deep end yesterday is sedated still but she needs to eat. The over night physician ordered no more sedation for her until you arrived or unless something happened. She should be waking soon."

Gun Range: Roy laughed a bit. "Maybe later we can try the big stuff," he chuckled before sitting down and going over the basics. Safety rules, how to hold the gun properly, how to check the chamber safely, unjam a bullet, put in a new clip when the other ran out. It took a bit to go over everything but Roy was patient and a rather good teacher when it came down to it. He was though a little over explaining, going over everything at least twice and making sure Riley could do the basics before he even started to act like he was going to let her fire a gun.

After about the third time he felt she finally had a decent grasp on it and moved over to one of the stalls before putting a target up and sending it to the other end of the range. "Okay, ear covers on, glasses on, wide stance, hold the gun like this," he said demonstrating for her before stepping out of the way. "We are live," he said to no one in the room but it was standard procedure. "Okay, safety off, give it a go. The kick isn't too bad on this one."

Justice Memorial: It was a little bit before the nurse came back in and walked over to Felix. Looking at his tray she rose a brow. "What, the food not to your liking?" she asked s her eyes narrowed a bit. "Well this isn't the Ritz you know, so don't be expecting me to be fetching you anything else to eat." She was in a foul mood but from the way she carried herself, could she ever be in anything else. "So come on, what do you want. I do have other patients to look after."

Groaning a bit she tapped her feet on the ground. "Any next time hit the bloody call button instead of yelling out. It's what it is there for."

Precinct 54: "Your file, maybe contact that Agent Tinder who had the case reopened. Not sure what work Gregory has done on it yet," he said before waving her off. "Go on, your is the only clean on in the place," he said before dismissing her.

In the file the newest additional to the Justice Police Department would see a rather long file on David Lawson. Retired USMC Gunnery Sergeant. Served during the war in Iraq, POW once thought dead. From South Carolina originally. Divorced from an Adelaide Grimaldi recently (his thought to be widow) - most of Lawsons file is redacted and black out to the explanation of how he returned to the US and what he did for the Marines while in the service. FBI badge number, referred to the FBI by a one Marc Tinder. (The agent that had reopened the case.)

There wasn't as much on Lance Clemins. Gun runner it seemed from the file, came out of no where a couple of years ago in Justice. Police had been trying for ages to shut him down but he managed to get out of every time. Cases usually thrown out of court.

There also wasn't much on the whole dual murder. Case was closed stating that a fight broke out and they had killed each other during the shoot out. Was caught on camera thanks to Channel Six news, nothing was thought of it. Why it would be reopened now was anyone's guess.

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Priya nodded and walked out of the Chief's office, closing the door behind her. She made a beeline for her desk (or what she assumed was her desk) and quickly opened the file. Taking in the information, she couldn't see why the case was re-opened. By all accounts, it should be an open and shut case. However, past experience with this type of thing led her to believe that if someone felt there was more to a case, they were usually right. And she also had that feeling that there may be more going on. It's part of the reason why she wanted to transfer to Justice: that nagging feeling of there being more than meets the eye.

She made a mental checklist of her starting steps.



First things first, she should contact the agent. She looked up the number for the FBI office in Justice and called. "Hello? Yes, I'm looking to talk to Agent Tinder. My name is Priya Khurana, a detective out of Precinct 54 in Justice. I'm hoping he can talk to me about a case he re-opened, File # 5461-LX-115?"

"So yeah, entirely your idea."

"Dress actually, assuming that you can procure something for me by tonight. It'd be nice to get all prettied up for once." The suit or dress question took Mali by surprise for a second. But it did make sense, she was fairly masculine in mannerism and dress, so it'd be easy to assume that she would simply prefer to wear a suit. That said, one doesn't get into bodybuilding and not care about their looks, and even though she'd be loathe to admit it, a big reason for choosing dress over suit is that she'd be able to show off her body. A suit would just cover all her hard work up.

"So is there anything you want me to do while at this party? Just schmooze everyone up? Sit there and act pretty? Create a wild cover story to cover your ass?" Mali wasn't exactly familiar with big fancy fundraising parties. She was pretty sure you either had to be rich or a politician for that to be the case. But it wasn't like she was some hoodrat or country bumpkin who'd never heard of a black tie event. As long as she wasn't asked to do anything too involved, she was pretty sure she'd be able to bullshit her way through any boring dinner. Hopefully.

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"Sounds like a plan to me then." Riley said with a slight smile as she moved over and sat down on the bench, looking over towards Roy as he started to explain. Riley leaned forward as she started to listen intently, back in high school she would probably have just brushed it off and doodled on some sheet of paper while she was in class and never listened. But Riley now was watching Roy explain as he showed her how to reload the gun, ejecting a bullet, getting the gun unjammed where the safety was located, and how to release the magazine. It took her a couple of tries to get everything memorized on handling the gun, he was a really good teacher on it.

Then it was finally time to actually shoot it, Riley sighed slightly as she got up she gently took the gun as she adjusted the safety glasses and headphones over her ears. She made sure to check the magazine first, then putting it back in and flipped off the safety getting into the stance that Roy had just showed her.

Taking a deep breath as she looked down the sights of the gun, briefly the images back at the horror house in Grimm when she had killed Chris once the target was down the range. Riley took another breath before pulling the trigger, feeling the slight kick from it she continued to fire until Riley heard the empty clicking sound. Riley ejected the empty magazine setting it down and turned off the guns safety setting the gun itself down. Riley looked over towards Roy as she started to put down the headphones and safety glasses. "So how did I do?"

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Cecily was glad that this family member or friend of Caesar's spoke English. Caesar had warned them that not everyone would be able to and having a language barrier to conquer wasn't something Cecily had been looking forward to. It would be like a never ending game of charades, with Cecily looking helplessly towards Natasha and Caesar for an idea as to what everyone was saying. She listened to Natasha, but she more looked at the small smile on Natasha's face. She was happy then. It must've just been a simple reply as introduction.

"Erm...No, I don't. I'm Cecily Ashworth--I do forensics," Cecily said.

Things then helpfully switched back into English. But of course, the communication wasn't the happiest things. It was dealing with the care of a body. For a moment, it struck Cecily as how convenient it was that Dr. Brinne had that sort of license. Her paranoia started to scream alarm bells. Someone affiliated with Juno had brought Dr. Brinne to Justice. This was all too convenient...But how would they have known they'd need someone to come with them to sign off on the transport of a body? And Natasha was so sweet, so kind...Cecily couldn't believe that she was involved in this.

"Let's go get you into the car?" Cecily offered, ready to give Natasha an arm to keep herself steady with. She couldn't imagine how Natasha was feeling.

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Iris giggled a bit at Nurse Cratty's remarks. Iris generally liked just about everyone--she was almost like a puppy in that regard. But still, Nurse Cratty seemed to be nice. And she really did have a point--doctors had to take such an intensive education, why couldn't they have legible handwriting? With all of the exams and papers, legible writing should have been a needed skill. "What age is third grade in the American system?" Iris asked. "It's fairly young, n'est-ce pas?" If that was the case, she would completely agree with Nurse Cratty.

Thinking over Nurse Cratty's question, Iris had it answered already. It seemed she had been assigned the one who went homicidal. Wonderful. If she could reach someone that far gone, though, it'd just be proof of Iris' belief that anyone could be reached. Even if someone stumbles and loses their way, it doesn't mean they're lost forever. "Would you care to accompany me to check in on her? A nurse's opinion would be helpful."

Iris hadn't been working in the asylum very long, after all. But from Nurse Cratty's speech, Iris had a feeling that she had been around for a while and might have some good pointers on how to handle a homicidal maniac that had killed an orderly the day before.

The disgruntled woman was back and with that his spirits slightly rose. It meant they hadn't forgotten about him for now which meant, he wasn't completely vulnerable. He did a quick scan of him with a furrow of his brow like he was getting blinded by the light from the room. She seemed so unwelcoming, there was something soothing about that. Nobody trying to blend in in order to assassinate a target would be so obviously out of character, anyone else would be all nice and sweeter than sugar. This woman was definetely not someone here to kill him, but at this point even nice smiling girls could be killers.

"Oh sorry, I didn't realise I interrupted you, I just need to ask, can i get a phone call? There's someone I need to talk to,
i'd appreciate it if you could give me a hand" He toned up the german accent in hopes she'd take pity on the damaged foreigner, it was a cheap ploy but he had to make it work. He clenched his teeth, his face tensing up as pain began to run through his nervous system again. God he needed some more pain killers. He just needed to get a hold of someone like Marc, so he'd call the police station, he'd memorised the number after the attack after the restaurant.

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Caesar caught enough presence of mind to wipe his face before focusing his attention back to the two women accompanying him, and of course the priest standing in front of them all. "Gracias." he said dismissively, but immediately changed mood into something a little more like his old self. Kinda. To begin, he answered Dr. Brinne's question, steering the conversation back to English.

"Benicio is my little brother. I don't go to church much." A bit terse, perhaps, but at least Caesar was back in the here and now. He reached out and took the papers from Natasha, giving them a quick study. The even and flowing voice of Benicio reached out to Caesar, as did his hand. "I told you, everything is arranged. I am personally overseeing this." The elder Gonzalez, with minimal reluctance, passed the paperwork over to Benicio. "A Doctor and a Forensics lady, both of which do not work for my brother. He must have a better class of friends than the last time we spoke. Please, all of you, take rest in the company limousine. You will find refreshment and excellent air conditioning inside. But first, do you have any questions?" His grasp of English, the subtleties, accent, etc. hinted at a person who spent more time around English speakers than Caesar, despite the scarier man's obvious fluency.

Again, Caesar grunted, this time nodding his head back to the bags of personal effects still in the airplane baggage compartment. He noticed Natasha's weakened state, offering, "You two go ahead. It's safe." As safe as anything was, these days. "I'll get the bags."

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The first round of tacos went down like a trailer in tornado alley, with about as much drama involved. Platter after platter succumbed to the combined assault of Keystone and the Seattle Tech Team, who had pretty much monopolized the seating in the area. Not so much because they were spread out over a wide area, more that the noise they were making and the rate with which they horked back various Tex-Mex delicacies was frightening to behold. The main culprits behind this were Keystone (naturally), Ibanez, and curiously, the slender looking lady of the group, Vinters. The remaining two held their own, but mostly kept returning to the window to get more food for the Beasts at Table Five. Of course, part of the reason for potential customers to avoid the area was because they were similarly dressed in tactical gear and most of them were openly armed. But so long as they kept ordering and paying, it didn't seem to bother the proprietors much. So far, anyway.

Between bites, the group engaged in small talk, determined not to discuss direct business until they got behind secure walls and could provide their own countermeasures. It was also policy, and these guys seemed to stick to any chunks of company policy or common sense that aided in their own safety. Simple talk, questions about background and specialties. Between rounds of Grade Nacho platters, Keystone regaled them with the odd, short telling of his time in mainland China. Rumors of how he spent his time while out that way had circulated back to the people in MSS, and he was filling them in on what parts were fact and what parts were stretched to make a good story. Not as much was stretched as they would have thought.

"...right, so's when I knocked the rotten bitchfist unconscious-like, I went an' started beatin' the other bloke 'alf to death with 'im. Swung 'im like a bloody cricket bat, I did. Afters, I posed 'em both in positions most undignified an' put the photos on m'Facebook. Yeah. You know, you lot're alright. I gotta hit the airport again, end o'business, pick up a few more buggers from m'old stompin' grounds. East End Londoners, hard fightin' bunch. I expect we'll all get along swimmin'ly."

"So, who wants flan?"

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*Quick Note: Color codes for location headers will denote time of day basically. Not so much tie of day but look for matching ones to see if you are in the same ~time frame~ as others.

Private Hangar in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico : Natasha shook her head a bit. "No, no questions and thank you," the doctor said before looking over at Cecily. "Yeah, good idea," she added before making her way over to the limousine. Opening the door slowly and sliding inside. She obviously wasn't feeling up to par but she had expected that. Flights, first class or not, drained her these days.

"Ugh," she muttered as she crawled over to one of the long bench like seats along the side of the limo and half laid down. Sure it wasn't the most proper thing to do but Natasha could really give a shit less. Pulling her phone out of her bag she turned it back on and waited for it to power up, resting her arm over her forehead as she did. Hitting a few buttons she made a call.

"Hey sweetie," she said before swallowing a bit and rolling over onto her side in fetal position. "Yeah, we landed. No, everything's fine. What? Yeah, a bit. No, wasn't as bad as the flight back from India. Heat? Sucks but not as bad as that damn room in Jaipur. Yeah, that really was a shit show. Just waiting to leave the airport now. I am resting, seriously. Laying down right now. In a limo. Yeah I know. Oh fuck that, bottled water only. I'll be fine. I promise. Yes, I have my meds. Lincoln, baby,.... Fuckwad! ~laughing slightly~ Thought that might shut you up. Don't worry, I promise I will take it easy. Oh, she's healing fine. Yeah, changed the bandages on the flight. Because she's my patient and I wasn't trusting her to some back world ER intern. Didn't we already go over this? Hey, you never complained. Okay, you complained but you got well didn't you? Not my fault you decided to go toe to toe with Irish. How is Murph? Oh shit, sorry I am missing that. Give Clair and Murph a hug from me. Okay. I will. I love you too. Bye," she said before hanging up and tossing her phone back in her bag, groaning a bit as her finger fiddled with a blue stoned engagement ring on her left ring finger.

Zoie's Farm: "Dress it is," Zoie said as she turned off the coffee pot and looked at the group. "Come on, let's get moving," she added quickly. Marc was already starting up the car and Relic was quick to follow him out the door. Zoie sighed a bit as she looked back over to Mali. "Yeah, we will figure something out while we are dress shopping. Relic will take care of ID's for you once we do," she said stepping out of the door and heading over to the limo.

Hopping into the car and pushing Relic to one of the side seats Zoie got comfortable and unbuttoned her suit jacket. "So, where too first?" Marc asked as he rolled down the center partition.

"Diamond district, gong to spoil my girl today," she said with a sly grin.

"Going all Pretty Woman on her? But aren't you the hooker?" Relic said, poking fun at his sister which got him a swift hit upside the back of his head. Relic just laughed and keyed up the song Pretty Woman on his laptop.

"You really need an ass kicking," Zoie snickered as she rolled her eyes. Marc just smirked and faced forward, waiting for everyone to be situated before taking off back towards the city.

Justice Asylum: Nurse Cratty looked over towards Iris and sighed a bit. "Yeah, about eight or nine years old," she said answering the doctors question. Closing the filing cabinet she tossed a stack of papers down on her desk and shrugged.

"Yeah, might as well, if she is awake and goes after you... Well I doubt you could fight off a fly," Cratty said as she picked up her keys and slipped them into the front pocket of nursing gown before pushing her chair back in. A younger nurse was making her way over towards the station and Cratty snapped her fingers towards the girl. The girl got a look of worry on her features as she hurried over.

"Yes Nurse Cratty?" she asked nervously.

"Watch the monitors, page me if anything goes wrong. Going to check on our latest snapped case," she said before motioning to Iris to lead the way. "Alright whippersnapper, let's get a move on."

Gun Range: Roy took a stance behind Riley with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. Pulling his headphones off as she finished he took the gun from her and ejected the clip, setting both down on the counter between the range and where they were. "Let's find out," he said as he reached over and hit the button to bring the target back to them.

As he came over he reached up and tore it down. Looking over it he pursed his lips slightly as he studied it. "Not bad," he said honestly. Out of the entire clip she had missed completely a few times, not even hitting the paper of the target, about a third of the shots hit the paper but not the outline of the man, the rest had hit in various places. "Seen worse, let's try again," he said tossing the target down on the floor and grabbing another one before sending it down to the end of the range again.

Grabbing another clip he set it down and motioned for her to go ahead and take it. "This time relax your shoulders as you squeeze the trigger, bend your knees a bit. Don't get so tense, the more relaxed you are the better. More you do it, more it becomes muscle memory over thought.

Justice Memorial: The nurse eyed him for a minute. He had called her in there, yelled for her, to use the phone? "Seriously? You bellow at me like I am some servant instead of hitting the call button to page me over wanting to make a phone call?" she said in a berating voice. She could have half understood if his meds were wearing off and he was in pain, but this? This was a waste of her time.

"Listen, I have patients that need actual help, you want concierge service, you can wait for the bell hop," she said as she pushed his food tray closer to the bed.

Code Blue, Room 269," an electronic voice rang out over the wards intercom. Turning on her heels the nurse rushed out of the room, the door closing heavily behind her as she dash to answer the code call, which kept repeating for another half a minute before the place went eerily silent.

Precinct 54: The phone rang a few times before it was finally picked up by the FBI Operator. "Yes, just a moment while I transfer you to the proper office," the woman's voice said and the line went to some horrifically amazing hold music. It was a good five minutes before someone else picked up the line.

"Organized Crime Division, Special Agent Collins speaking. Detective Khurana was it?" a mans voice chimed in on the other end of the line. "Shit, hold on," he added quickly as he pulled the phone away from his mouth but didn't cover it or put her on hold. "No, that file goes to the Chicago Field Office. The other one goes to Houston," he said before turning his attention back to his phone call. "Sorry about that. So, what can I do for Justice PD?" he asked, there was a certain obvious tone of sarcasm in his voice when he said the word Justice.

Mali carried the back of the group, shutting the door to the front of the farm behind her. She almost stopped when her brain realized that I'm about to step into a limo. This wasn't right. Her life wasn't this. What the fuck was she doing? She wasn't rich, or some kid whose parents gave them enough money to make a flashy entrance to prom night. But she didn't let herself get caught up in the existential crisis her brain had thrown her into and managed to get all buckled up without issue. (Well it wasn't an existential crisis given that she wasn't questioning the purpose of life and despairing at the inherent futility of a transient existence in an infinite universe without some greater structure of morality with which to govern everything, but it was still something of a crisis.)

"If anyone doesn't need more ass-kickings, it's him. But if you're going to be spoiling me, does this make you my Sugar Mama?" Mali managed to shake off the feeling of utter wrongness in her gut just in time to catch onto the conversation. "Kind of odd for a whore to buy a service she provides on a regular basis," she teased. Idly, she noticed that Zoie's jacket was unbuttoned, which kind of irked her. Why button up the jacket if you're going to undo it as soon as you leave the house?

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Priya detected the sarcastic tone in his voice. Hell, she knew sarcasm was a class they taught you in the academy. She wondered why, but she had a feeling she could guess. "You can help me, not Justice, by answering some questions. I've been handed the file on the double homicide you recently reopened and, needless to say, I've got some questions."

"First off, why was it reopened. Seems to me it was pretty open and shut. I've dealt with cold cases before so I know the deal. I know that feeling of there being something off. If possible, I would very much like to read the unredacted file or at least be brought up to speed on the information. I can meet up somewhere if you'd rather talk in person, but I will be finding the answers I need." The last sentence wasn't meant to be a threat. By all accounts, this agent was by the books, but the FBI never truly rubbed her the right way. It was merely there to say 'hey if you're gonna put up walls, I will find a way around them.'

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Riley watched as Roy took the gun from her ejecting the clip and setting both of them down on the table in front of them, when Roy hit a button to resend the target back towards them. Riley leaned forward as she inspected the target herself, letting out a slight sigh none of the bullets actually hit the target just the outer parts of the paper. Though she wasn't expecting to become an ace sharpshooter in a few seconds.

Riley gave him a slight smile and a nod as well, listening to his advice when Roy handed her a new clip and set up a new target and sent it back down at the other end of the range. Riley set the headphones back on putting the new clip in she started to relax herself and pretended that the target was something else, bending her knees slightly. Riley looked down at the gun sights then she started to pull the trigger feeling like she was getting used to the handgun.