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." 
