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[ConscriptFive]

Mission Report Part (3/5)

Task Force Orion ISR on Anghabar (Part Two)

Disembarking at the spaceport planetside, Simon can't help but overhear the father of a small family arguing with a flight attendant.  Apparently the exile flight to Harad is overbooked, and no one willing to give up their seat.  The next public flight out wouldn't be for days, as CoFor has been appropriating flights for 'critical' personnel and cargo.  That flight too is already fully booked, but he could always try flying standby... for a family of four.  It's an unenviable situation, and the Ocean PMC Team doesn't linger long enough to hear its resolution.

The team loads into the Landrover SUV only to find their passage to the warehouse complex stymied.  The spaceport is swarmed with would-be refugees and a chaotic open-air market has emerged to exploit this economic opportunity.  Pitchmen bark out offers to buy and sell excess baggage.  Others flog dubious tickets to Harad and even more dubious "first class" upgrades.  The streets are lined with scrap tarpaulins propped against vacant storefronts sheltering weary refugees in makeshift lean-to's.

With traffic at a crawl, the Ocean PMC Team has plenty of team to take in these sights.  Nikita dutifully drives as Simon navigates from the front passenger seat with a paper map on his lap.  Redbrick rides in the backseat of the crew cab, keeping an eye out for threats.

Redbrick points out a street vendor standing by a row used household appliances, "Hey boss, howabout we check if that guy's got a toaster?  You know, just in case?"

Nikita stifles a laugh as Simon shakes his head, "Too soon, man.  Too soon."

After an hour in traffic, the Landrover SUV makes it to the industrial park on the outskirts of town.  A billboard outside the the warehouse complex identifies it as "North Pointe Logistics Center."  Nikita points out a small guard shack at the front gate of the warehouse complex.

"Uh, there's a guard there, Sir."

Redbrick comments, "Looks like a token Paul Blart to me, Boss."

"Roger that, team.  But I bet he's got backup, and we have no idea who he works for.  Nikita, could you take us around abit more, see if we can recce anybody else?"

Just as the overhead imagery suggested, the warehouse complex is fairly large (roughly the size of a shopping mall) and surrounded by a basic chainlink fence.  A paved roadway leads to another another rear gate also guarded by a similar guard shack.  The complex itself consists of several rows of steel-prefab 40ft x 40ft warehouses (roughly the size of a three car garage).  Barn-like in appearance, their ceilings are high enough that some may have additional loft areas.  Large roller doors and minimal windows don't provide much line of sight in or out of each warehouse.  Stopping to listen, occasional machine tools are heard emanating from somewhere in the complex.

The good news is that the surrounding industrial park appears completely vacated and dead silent.  Simon estimates AMR probably consolidated whatever valuables they could into the smaller warehouse complex, freeing the majority of their guard force to be reassigned against the insurgency.  Providing an elevated vantage point on the warehouse complex, Simon chooses a multi-story steel mill just across the street from the warehouse complex as their hide site.

Taking nothing for granted, Simon stacks the three operators on a side door to the steel mill.  Clumsily breaking a lock with a Gerber multitool, they then batter the door enough to gain entry.  It's a sloppier breach than Simon would've liked, but it's too late to change course of action.

Thoroughly room clearing the steel mill is more difficult than Simon anticipated.  Doctrinally, he knows from this training that three men with automatic carbines should be sufficient for CQB, however industrial buildings have highly specialized geometries that are confusing to assault blind.  Residences are familiar to most people and thus have highly predictable layouts and clutter.  In a factory however, a string of small back offices can quickly open into a multi-story factory floor littered with hard-cover machinery and surrounded by elevated catwalks.  A locked door may lead to a ladder or just another utility closet.

Simon methodically leads the team from room to room.  As before, without mounted tac lights or NVG's, the Val's iron sights are worthless in the unlit interior and target recognition is tricky.  Slow-going in a relatively large building, an aggressive adversary could've probably tracked their movement by now and staged a lethal ambush.  Their clumsy entry and repeated bumbling around in the darkness would be impossible not to see coming.

Now that Simon really thinks about it, a shotgun blast or two could probably drop the whole team in close quarters.  Without body armor, they could be disabled fairly easily.  Isolated inside a now hostile structure, OPFOR could then demand surrender before closing for a coup-de-grace.  Any hobo with a shotgun has a chance with a home-court advantage like that.

Despite an hour of nerve-wracking room clearing, Simon's team finds no vagrants or other threats.  Well aware of how fleeting security can be on site, he immediately locks all entryways and then has the SUV parked inside a vehicle bay.  As far as Simon can tell, their hide site is now secure.

It's nearly sundown as Simon's team settles into camp on the upper floor of the steel mill.  Nikita takes the first shift on the FLIR binos as Simon sets up the commo.  Finding an appropriate window sill, the commo hardware works just as Orion Six instructed and all three operators are rigged with wireless headsets.  Commo established, Simon sends the initial report: mapping out the location of their hide site and what they've observed so far.

"Solid Copy, Ocean Element.  Our intelligence analysts confirm a contracted security team was hired by North Pointe Logistics Center.  It's a small contract with a small local security contractor.  Either they're terrible at their job, or they're associated with the targetted criminal enterprise.  Their fates are sealed with the rest of the criminals.  Speaking of, no contact with the criminal element yet?"

"Correct, Ocean Seven.  Negative contact.  We are just establishing surveillance however.  We will report again in twelve hours."

The voice of Ocean Six responds, "Make it eight."

Counter-intuitively, nightfall ends up making surveillance easier.  The residents of the warehouse complex have no idea they're under surveillance and make no effort to practice light disclipline.  Of the roughly two dozen buildings, Simon's Team is able to spot lit windows in just a handful of buildings throughout the night.  While most were visible to the naked eye, the IR/NV capabilites of the FLIR binos pick out at least two more they would've otherwise missed.

Now knowing what buildings to watch, waking hours provide an opportunity to ascertain pattern of life.  Months prior, Ops Chief Neil had tried to drill this concept into Nikita the scout to limited effect.  However, against an otherwise vacant warehouse complex, it's not too difficult to see who's moving where and when.  First thing in the morning, personnel emerge from sleeping areas, move to lavatory/hygiene areas, then to dining areas, then to their work areas.  Marking up a paper imagery printout of the warehouse complex, Simon's team draws up some educated guesses as to how various warehouses are being used.  The gate guards occasionally mingle with the other subjects, suggesting a friendly association at the very least.

In the middle of morning surveillance, Simon reports to TF Orion as requested.  Per his doctrinal training, he structured his thoughts as a classic SALUTE report.  It may be somewhat of an ancient and imperfect template, but it's a decent place to start.  Size: 10-20 personnel.  Activity: ordinary base operations.  Location: several identified warehouses in the North Point Logistics Center.  Unit/Uniform: civilian attire except for the gate guards who are wearing a generic uniform with no observable insignia.  Time: real-time since last night.  Equipment: gate guards have sidearms, no other weapons or specialty hardware observed.

"Solid Copy, Ocean Element."

Ocean Seven is satisfied with the report, but disappointed Simon hasn't observed any Tyrell mechandise itself.  They've greatly narrowed down the warehouses to target, but haven't confirmed the presence of any merchandise to recover.

"Naturally, we'd rather do a quick in and out than having to go full door-to-door.  Of further note, we've just received intelligence of a meeting planned at the chop shop sometime today.  It is our top priority that no further merchandise is pirated.  If we can bury further accomplices in the process, even better.  Report immediately if you see a meeting taking place, as TF Orion is now staging for ready status.  Orion Seven out."

Redbrick is on watch midday when he spots two vehicles approaching the front gate of the warehouse complex, "Heads up, we got pigs."

The rest of the team swarms the vantage point to confirm it.  Two blue sedans with the ubiquitous orange AMR logo, Nikita remembers them from outside spaceport, "Guys, we saw those outside the spaceport.  Should be city police squad cars."

Simon confirms, "Roger that.  They look familiar to me too.  I'm not an expert on the various AMR security orgs, but I don't think that metro would have jurisdiction out here.  I better get Orion on the line because 'something' is about to happen."

"Solid Copy, Ocean Element.  Two vics, likely leos.  Keep the updates coming.  All Orion elements, confirm REDCON."

The two police sedans pull up to the front gate and are waved in immediately.  Nikita notes that their lights and sirens are off and the vehicles are driving casually through the warehouse complex.  Simon remembers the mission report from the Shamrock Tavern, which he studied during mission prep.  Those guys hit Anna and Ethan hard, fast, and with the element of surprise.  Furthermore, no sane police captain would dispatch only two squad cars to serve a warrant against this many suspects in broad daylight.  Simon comes to the conclusion that these two police cars must be coming in peace.

"Nikita, take the binos.  Redbrick, things may kick-off at any moment.  Prep us for exfil."

"If you say so, Boss."  Redbrick is excited by the coming action and tries to hide his disappointment as he hands off the binos.

The police cars stop in front of a warehouse pattern-of-life analysis suggested was a main workplace.  Four uniformed city police officers dismount, escorting an overweight man in a suit and fedora.  Nikita notes that the civilian has some difficulty getting out of the back seat of the squad car, suggesting arthritis, poor health, and/or general old age.  Two men emerge from the warehouse and cordially greet the well-dressed civilian.

"Wait, did they just kiss his hand?  Is that a local custom or something?" Nikita asks over the team comms.

Redbrick replies, "Girl, that's some Guinea shit right there."

Simon replies, "Redbrick, you sure about that?"

"100 percent, Boss.  Casa Nuova is all about that Old World mafioso bullshit.  Whoever they kissed is some kind of made man."

"Alright, good catch team.  Nikita, stay on them.  I'll call it in."

Orion Seven laughs hungrily as he receives Simon's report, "Our analysts think that's a local Casa Nuova capo.  I always wanted to bag one of those.  Corporate might even be able to flip a "citizen's arrest" angle to CoFor for this op.  Keep it coming, Ocean Element."

The two men from the warehouse raise the roller door, revealing unmarked open crates of parts.  One of the two men is teenager in overalls who gestures wildly to the crates.  At the teen's insistence, the capo obligingly picks up some kind of electronic component from one of the crates and looks it over.  Nikita notices the chop shop worker relentlessly jabber about it while the older capo pretends to understand and/or care what the excited tech is going on about.  The capo soon pats the tech patronizingly on the head and shares a laugh with the rest of the group at his expense.  Waving to the police officers, the capo steps aside as the officer begin the manual labor of loading the crates into the squad cars.  As the unmarked crates are moved, Nikita catches a glimpse of a Tyrell logo behind them.  "Jackpot, sir.  They're loading the Tyrell merchandise right now.  They may not hang around long though."

Simon calls it in and gets an immediate acknowledgement from Orion Seven, "Frak.  Solid copy, Ocean Element.  We are go.  Continue live ISR until released.  Orion Seven out."  Before fully signing off, he then hot mics, "We are fraking evergreen boys!"

Simon would like to think about what the hell Orion Seven just hot mic'd but has more immediate priorities.  He updates his team over team comms, "It's happening team.  Nikita, keep eyes on target.  I'll keep watch for peripheral threats.  Redbrick, get us ready to go.  Pack the commo last...  Forget it, I'll just pack the commo myself to be sure."

"Shit Boss, I'm on it.  Try not to have all the fun up there."

Barely sixty seconds later, Simon is startled as eight wingsuit'd figures crash down from the sky into the warehouse complex.  They tumble down dramatically in an especially acrobatic kind of parachute landing fall (PLF) that definitely required some kind of exo-suit technology to pull off.  Landing near the front gate, bursts of suppressed assault rifle rounds perforate the guard shack from behind.  A four man team sprints up to the guard shack to confirm the kill before rejoining the main body pushing inward.

Redbrick calls over the team comms, "Hey, anybody else's phone just go into a bootloop?"

Before Simon and Nikita could reach for the pockets, their attention is grasped by the roaring engine of a heavy vehicle in the distance.  A wheeled Armored Personnel Carrier (APC) races over open ground towards the rear gate.  With a mechanical buzzing noise, the APC fires a gyroscopically-stabilized minigun into the guard shack, instantaneously shredding it down to a tattered frame.

Simon gets the understated call over comms, "All elements, Orion Six on objective."

Plowing through the back gate, the APC barrels across the warehouse complex until it sets up a field of suppressive fire raking the police cars at the front of the chop shop warehouse.  Meanwhile, the infantry have been maneuvering themselves out of the APC's sector of fire and have set up overwatch on the back door of the warehouse.  With the minigun kicking up a dust storm out front by the cars, all the remaining quarry can do is shelter inside the chop shop.  Unawares of the the infantry team out back, one of the workers tries to slip out the back door before being gunned down by a suppressed assault rifle.

While Nikita stays focused, Simon can't help but admit the situation is abit of a foregone conclusion at this point.  So far no one has even managed to return fire on TF Orion.  He doesn't need his full tactical training to understand a one-sided slaughter.  Despite how secure the warehouse looks, sheet metal won't provide cover against a vehicle weapon system like a minigun.  Orion Six's APC could strafe the entire warehouse with impunity if it wanted to.  Simon estimates the only reason they haven't done so is out of deference to protecting the stolen merchandise.

The gunfire lets up and after an pregnant pause, over a dozen men carefully step out of the front of the chop shop with their hands up.  The infantry descend upon the detainees, quickly frisking them before sitting them on the ground with their backs against a wall.  Nikita notes that the Casa Nuova capo is still alive and among the detainees.

Meanwhile, infantry enter the chop shop, quickly clearing it.  It's not long before Simon gets confirmation on the comms, "All elements, objective secure.  We have jackpot.  Ocean Element, keep scanning for threats until cargo is loaded for extraction."

Taking a calculated risk, the APC drops its back ramp, leaving its interior exposed to take cargo aboard.  Among the scurrying infantrymen lugging crates a short and lightly-armed soldier dismounts the APC.  He takes a moment to survey the scene before walking up to an authoritative looking infantryman and giving him a fist bump.  The two authority figures walk up to the captured capo and idly question him.

Simon continues to scan the warehouse complex, but finds no further activities in the other warehouses.  All other inhabitants seem to have recognized discretion as the better part of valor, and have hid themselves against such an overwhelming force.

Although she's supposed to be keeping an eye out for threats, Nikita can't help but keep using the FLIR binoculars to watch TF Orion work.  Among the sixteen captives out front, she spies the teenager in overalls she observed earlier.  He's alive, but lethal combat has rattled him badly.  The FLIR binos show him sitting in a white hot puddle.  The taller of the two authorities also notices this and takes a knee in front of him.  After a few words, he places a cigarette in the teenager's mouth and lights it for him. 

Before long, the infantry finish loading the APC and Simon receives the call, "Ocean element, we are moving to exfil.  You are released from your duties.  Friendly advice: recommend you 'di di mau' sooner, rather than later.  Stay safe out there operator brothers."

Simon returns the farewell before breaking down the commo hardware, "Roger that Orion Six, you stay safe out there too."

Despite getting orders from Simon to pack immediately, Nikita can't shake the feeling that she needs to observe TF Orion for just a few seconds more.  The other infantrymen rally around the two authority figures who stage a quick round of rock-paper-scissors.  The taller one raises his fist in victory as the surrounding infantrymen congratulate him.  TF Orion then quietly line up across from the prisoners and simultaneously mag dump their suppressed assault rifles into them.

Simon calls out to Nikita as she nearly drops the FLIR binos in response, "Careful butterfingers, those things are precious."

Nikita awkwardly laughs, "Clumsy me I guess?  Di di mau time."

The two operators dash down the stairs to meet Redbrick who's already loaded the rest of the gear into the Landrover SUV.  Redbrick freezes as he goes to open the vehicle bay doors, "Whoa, we got more pigs here, Boss."

In their vigilance in watching TF Orion in the warehouse complex, Simon's team neglected to watch their own backs in the rest of the industrial park.  A sheriff marked SUV pulls up to the steel mill, an apparent first responder who heard the APC unleashing its fury.  Simon checks his phone, hoping to call the TF Orion APC for backup, but it's indeed still jammed.  Unpacking and reassembling the loaned commo hardware was not a viable solution either.  With commo with TF Orion effectively severed, they were on their own now.

Simon readies his Val carbine and takes a look out the window himself.  In the front seat of the SUV, two deputies angrily fiddle with their phones, trying to call in backup.  Simon doesn't like the idea of killing law enforcement, but he sees no other solution.  With traffic as it is, the team can't outrace anybody to spaceport.  Furthermore, even if they did get away, they'd rather not be witnessed at the scene of a violent raid upon an AMR-owned property.  Ocean PMC could lose a lot of business if they got watchlisted on Anghabar.

Simon's ruminations are interrupted by Redbrick, "Ha, looks like somebody parked in the no parking zone!"

"What do you mean?"

Redbrick simply smiles and reveals a demolitions clacker.  Before anyone can stop him, he clicks it shut rocking the metallic vehicle bay doors with an explosion.  Simon swears profusely at the unwelcome surprise while Nikita cowers in the driver seat, clueless at what just happened.  Redbrick flings the vehicle bay door open with his Val carbine at the ready.  The police SUV is thoroughly perforated with shrapnel from an improvised fragmentation charge Redbrick had emplaced earlier without telling anyone.  He closes on the two deputies breathing their last breathes and finishes them off with suppressed gunfire.

"Like I said, Boss.  No parking zone.  It's not called the fire lane for nothing right?  Now let's GTFO."

Spoiler: Mission Summary (click to show/hide)

Mission Results: Success.  Zero casualties.  21+ EKIA.  50k profit.  Data sheet updated.

Plan Rating: Good (+1)
Roll (2d4): 6
Plan Execution Result: 7 - Very Good

Mission Difficulty Roll (2d4): 5 - As Expected

Operator Improvisation Roll (2d4): 4 - Mistakes Were Made

[ConscriptFive]

Mission Report Part (4/5)

Smilodon Populator Hunting Party

Two operators will guide a chartered hunting party from Lossarnach Country Club to hunt possibly the last Smilodon Populator tiger in the wilds of Lossarnach.
As preparation for the mission, both operators will handicraft their Smildon trophy remains into wearable trinkets.  These visible trophies should wordlessly confirm their credibility as Smilodon hunters.  As further preparation, they should review the reports from the previous Smilodon hunt and refamiliarize themselves with maps of the area.  While both Hoxton and Erik both have Smildon experience, Hoxton was the only one of the two to see the Smilodon Populator, making him the better choice for Team Leader.
After meeting the hunting party at the spaceport and introducing themselves in-person, use the SUV to tow/transport the ATV along the roads to an appropriate basecamp.  After making camp, fully brief the hunting party on the plan to hunt the Smilodon Populator.  Set up hunting blinds near the natural salt lick the Smilodon Populator was last spotted.  Give wildlife some time to get accustomed to the blinds before occupying them at night.  Keep the FLIR binos ready to spot the Smilodon Populator.
As this is an overt mission of some prestige, both operators should freely promote their Ocean PMC affiliation, and need not conceal their faces.

Personnel:
*Team Leader* James "Hoxton" Hoxworth
Erik Heller

Non-Standard Hardware:
Landrover Defender SUV (1)
Gator ATV (1)
AS Val Carbine (2)
FLIR Binos (1)

Additional Guidance:
While the hide-and-seek tactic proved effective in our last mission, here it ends up misidentifying the goal. The mission objective here is to entertain the hunters, with actually shooting the target coming in secondary. We may remember that our (sorta) trained operators found waiting around for the tigers to appear dull, to the point they would rather hang out with each other rather than do their mission. Should the hunters feel similar and become bored then our entertaining safari would easily be considered a failure.

As such, we should take their desires into account during this mission and remember that these are experienced hunters here for a guide, not someone to do their hunt for them. We are here to advise and assist, rather than dictate and command. Our first step will be asking the hunters what their preferred hunting method is. We will first offer up the "Ambush" method stating it was what we used last time with the hunting blinds. We can then offer a "Stalking" method, were we attempt to locate tracks, beds, feces, trails, and other hints of the target's location. The methods can then be combined as necessary, such as stalking with vehicles equipped with hunting blinds or attempting to stalk after the ambush tactic fails to yield results.

We can then play it by ear and do what is expected. If you go stalking and they wait around expectantly for you to find tracks, search for tracks. If they proceed to search for tracks themselves, provide as much assistance as they seem to desire.

Pregame, in addition to preparing neat tiger equipment and reading maps, be sure to read up on the target and its smaller cousin at least to the point you can differentiate their tracks and droppings. Maybe with a few catfacts in case the hunters get curious.

Bring medical supplies and some shotguns just for show.

Having both survived "Tiger Country" before, Team Leader Hoxton and Erik Heller prepared themselves against a cunning predator.  Little did they know of another more cunning predator in the backwoods of Lossarnach...

"G'day mate!" Erik mugs for Hoxton.

Hoxton cracks up laughing, "Well I guess this is happening isn't it?"

Erik shapes the brim of his Smilodon claw adorned black leather fedora, "Those guys are going to eat this shit up.  I got a leather vest to go with it."

"Where do you even buy a get up like that?"

Erik points to the six inch long sabretooth hanging from his neck, "Walk around the markets wearing this baby, and those kind of people just find you."

"Did you do the accent then too?"

"Nah, man.  It's something I used to do for a scheme back in Bezos.  Fits the character doesn't it?"

Hoxton shrugs, "Honestly, I don't know.  But it sure is entertaining, and that's what the higher ups want."

After appropriate research and several checks (and re-checks) of the packing list, the two man team find their way down to a remote Lossarnach spaceport.  The first ones to the party, small rural spaceport is empty except for air traffic control and a handful of technicians.  Team Leader Hoxton can see his breath in the cold autumn air, as he begins unloading from the shuttle.  Winters in Lossarnach can get harsh, the Country Club's reluctance to delay the expedition another month is understandable.

After Team Leader Hoxton finishes the grunt work of unloading the shuttle, Erik walks up from the the control tower, "Hey mate, I just chatted up the spaceport staff.  Looks like we got some of our better-off neighbors in New Monaco flying down to play with us."

"Frak, the guy from the country club never gave us the roster, but this exotic safari shit is a rich guy thing after all."

"Think it'll be anybody we know?"

"Eh, I'm not exactly upper crust, are you?  Doubt it."

Erik straightens his leather vest with a confident tug, "Well then, I'm going to nail this first impression.  Hustling a mark is all about the first impression."

It isn't long before a cargo plane comes in, which Erik identifies as the scheduled flight from the Lossarnach Country Club.  He looks himself over in the rearview mirror of the Landrover SUV and mouths something before hopping out to meet the new arrivals.  He strikes a relaxed yet masculine pose against the front fender of the Landrover as they walk up.

"G'day mates.  I'm your guide, Erik Hella.  You can call me 'Dingo' if you like.  This is my partner, James Hoxworth, but we all call him Hoxton."

A pudgey middle-aged man in jeans and a camouflage ballcap steps forwards and introduces himself as Matthew Vogel, the group leader from the country club.  Matthew reviews the booking information with your team.  Besides your two guides, eight hunters are booked for the expedition.  At a glance, none of the eight names ring a bell.

Quickly assuming their roles as hired guides, your two men mingle with the new arrivals and help them unload their vehicles from the aircraft.  All of them are well-to-do caucasian folk, each with their own luxury SUV and camper.  In addition to Matthew, your men meet a husband and wife, father and son, and a pair of brothers.

As they finish unloading, Erik spots a Mothership Leviathan shuttle coming in as scheduled.  With seven of eight hunters already present, Erik wonders why they didn't charter a smaller shuttle for a single passenger.  It doesn't take long for Erik to find out.  A man with a pony-tail and a soul patch disembarks from the shuttle.  Clothing-wise, he's dressed very similar to Erik's leather outfit, though Erik guesses it's un-ironic.  A prominent talon pendant hangs from his neck.  Before he even speaks, your men recognize him by reputation alone.

"Doc Jack Barbera.  Great work finding those Smilodons.  I've been looking forward to this hunt for months."

Matthew greets him effusively, and the other hunters soon gather around the minor celebrity.  Plenty of enthusiastic chatter and selfies are broken up by the sight of a teenage girl unloading the shuttle.  She's dressed almost like a provocative renaissance faire pirate, with thigh-high leather boots, short shorts, and some kind of well-crafted corset top.  Her hair and makeup are well done, though most would say she doesn't need it.  The group leader points out the girl, and Doc Jack Barbera confirms she's coming along.

"Oh, that's just one of my volunteers, Bellatrix.  Trix won't be doing any hunting.  She'll be sleeping in my tent and like a good little vegan, she packed all her own meals.  Besides, I don't think any of you can handle a twenty foot Utahraptor like she can, right?"

The disagreement is broken up as she unloads a super duty pickup towing a large livestock trailer.  Through the ventilation slits in the steel trailer, a vehicle-sized feathered dinosaur can be seen sleeping in a bed of straw.

Matthew sees this and laughs, "What else would I expect from the Raptor King?  But you owe me one when we get back to the club, pal."

Without further ado, your guides lead the party convoy out of the spaceport.  A six vehicle convoy, all-towing something, is a bit of a sight for the locals and several ranch hands take a moment to gawk as they pass by.  Team Leader Hoxton had planned to use their old hilltop camping site, but reconsiders as they'll need plenty of flat ground and road access to establish their impromptu luxury trailer park.  As the roads come to an end, he declares a recently logged area as their basecamp and the rest of the day is spent making camp.

As night falls, Matthew sets up a grill and breaks out a cooler of mammoth steaks for the party supper.  Team Leader Hoxton takes over cooking from him and directs everyone to gather around Dingo Hella at the main firepit.

"G'day mates.  It's me, your guide Dingo Hella.  My partner, Hoxton is ova' at the barbie.  I know it's been a long first day, but before we all get too stuffed, let me tell you how this week is gonna to work."

Dingo quickly lays out the basic rules of the camp, before getting into discussing the hunt itself.  The camp rules are mostly safety-oriented.  As Ethan found out the hard way, Smilodons are opportunistic nocturnal predators, who may strike upon a vulnerable individual.  Two men will be awake and armed at camp at all times, and that such a relatively large party shouldn't have too hard a time manning that requirement.  (Doc Jack Barbera later clarifies that Bellatrix will be covering his assigned guard shifts.)  No one will leave the camp perimeter alone, or without informing the rest of the party of their whereabouts (in case a rescue is needed).  As all activities outside the camp are optional, one Ocean PMC guide will be at camp at all times for emergencies.

With no one outside of Ocean PMC having bagged a wild Smildon in at least a decade, the party listens intently as Dingo transitions to explaining how they'll be hunting the elusive beasts.  Smilodons are nocturnal predators, so most guided hunts will be done at night.  While Ocean PMC had been successful with hunting blinds at a lake and salt lick for their Int Geo work, they will also be attempting some more challenging stalking hunts as well.  They'll spend the first night building and emplacing the blinds.  The following night, the hunt begins.

A certain camaraderie naturally develops among the party that first night.  Everyone is on vacation and enjoys the light recreational labor of building the blinds and prepping for tomorrow's hunt.  While Bellatrix spends most the night feeding, grooming, and walking the Utahraptor, Doc Jack Barbera spends the night socializing with the rest of the party.  A big personality with an exotic lifestyle, he's overwhelmingly entertaining.  Surely prolonged exposure to his hi-jinx won't become annoying, right?

The next night, the party gets to hunting.  Dingo leads most of the party to the two hide sites.  Only Matthew and Doc Jack Barbera were willing to commit to the more difficult stalking hunt.  Dingo and Matthew share a Gator ATV while Doc Jack Barbera rides his saddled Utahraptor.  Despite his failed attempts to research big cat scat online, Dingo remembers some spoor from the previous Int Geo mission.  While Nikita the Scout did do most of the tracking then, Dingo did pay enough attention to at least mimic her work.

Meanwhile, Team Leader Hoxton is left to tend/guard camp with Bellatrix.  With her Utahraptor out with Doc Jack Barbera, Bellatrix finally has some freetime.  Hoxton is one of the youngest members of Ocean PMC, and the two immediately get along.  A true "dino gal," she ran off to pursue her lifelong dream of caring for dinosaurs.  "I mean, it's an opportunity of a lifetime!  He may not pay me per se, but he gifts me room, board, and lots of cute outfits!"  Eventually Hoxton learns that "Bellatrix" isn't her birth name and was also a "gift" from him.

Unfortunately, back in the woods, everything doesn't go as swimmingly.  The wildlife haven't adjusted to the blinds yet, and seem to be avoiding the lake and salt lick.  On the stalking trip, Matthew is enough of an experienced outdoorsman spot the increasing short-comings of Dingo's charade: looking for footprints in the dark from inside an ATV is not the best of plans afterall.  To both men's relief, Doc Jack Barbera is abnormally quiet on the stalking trip.  He seems intently focused on trying to train his Utahraptor to track Smilodon scents.

At dawn, the expeditions wind to an end, and Dingo brings everyone back to camp.  Sensing the disappointment in the party, Dingo decides some entertainment could pick up spirits.  "Now mates, Smilodons are elusive prey, and we shouldn't be surprised how today went."  He taps the Smildon tooth pendant on his neck, "Now I'm gonna' tell ya a story about how I bagged this here Smilodon."

Team Leader Hoxton's ears perk up, knowing full well that Erik was asleep when Ethan Hunt shot that Smilodon at camp.  Even in the field, Erik was never present when a Smildon was seen.

Dingo spins a tale about how he was alone on watch when he spotted the sabretooth cat enter the camp.  It was on the prowl, eager to feast on his sleeping partner.

"My shotty was loaded with buck, and it was too close to the tent already.  With no time to load a slug, it became the real test of a cowboy..."  He brandishes his Colt Python revolver.

"My favorite Sheila here put the first round right into the beast's neck.  But that wasn't enough.  She wheeled around and stared me down with a roar.  You believe me, I stood my ground.  As she reeled to pounce on me, I put one straight between the eyes.  Bob's your uncle, that saved the day!  Now if that ain't true, my name ain't Dingo Hella!"

Dingo's an entertaining storyteller and the party enjoys it, though it's unclear who took what parts of the story literally.  Tall tale "fish stories" are enough of an outdoors tradition that everyone took it with a grain of salt anyways.  This prompts others in the party to follow-up with their own supposed tales, with some being more fanciful than others.  By the end of it all, everyone goes to bed happy.

Burnt out from the previous day's work, Team Leader Hoxton takes over from Dingo as he rests on camp duty.  Both Matthew and Doc Jack Barbera are willing to give night-time stalking another shot.  Hoxton decides to let the more experienced Matthew take the lead though.  It's an improvement.

Back at the camp, Dingo takes an interest in Bellatrix, who has again defaulted to camp duties in the Utahraptor's absence.  Uncertain of her relationship with Doc Jack Barbera, he flirts with her enough until she rebuffs him.  Taking that as his answer, he keeps his distance from her for the rest of the trip.

The remaining days of the trip show progress.  The hunters in the blinds see more and more wildlife, and the stalkers begin finding more and more spoor.  Still, not even a glimmer of a Smilodon in the flesh.  With winter coming fast, they had only a full day of hunting left.

While most of the party seem accepting of getting skunked, Matthew and Doc Jack Barbera are more demanding.  In a heated argument, Matthew accuses Doc Jack Barbera's Utahraptor of scaring off the Smilodons.  It's not an illogical hypothesis that Smilodon would flee from a larger predator intruding on their territory, but Doc Jack Barbera refuses to accept the blame. 

Fearing the trip could end on a bad note with the two VIP's, Dingo intercedes and tries to mediate a solution.  Keeping in mind that Matthew is actually paying the contract, he sides with Matthew's hypothesis that night-stalking with the Utahraptor is scaring away the nocturnal Smilodons.  Thus the Utahraptor would not be allowed on any further hunts.  However, completely alienating another T-modded Mothership Leviathan citizen seems like an unwise move in the long-term.  As an accommodation, Hoxton will sacrificing his last resting day-shift to privately guide Doc Jack Barbera as he'd like.  Doc Jack Barbera is unhappy about this, but claims his Utahraptor needed the rest anyways.

When Dingo tells Team Leader Hoxton what he volunteered him for, he has mixed feelings.  It's a solution to the problem, but shouldn't he be making these calls as Team Leader?  He doesn't voice his objections, and agrees to skip his rest shift.  As most of the party gets to bed, Hoxton gets dressed and cleans up the Gator ATV that Dingo just returned.

"Mind if I bum a ride?"

Hoxton looks over to see Doc Jack Barbera, dressed and ready to go.  "As you wish, sir.  Ready to go on your command."

"Bah, don't call me sir.  Sir is what people call my dad."

"Doctor Barbera?"

"Technically accurate, but abit too clinical.  Just 'Doc' is fine, let's get this show on the road."

The two men day a leisurely driving tour.  Both are pretty beat from a week of outdoorsmanship by the point, and are enjoying taking it easy.  Off-line and man-to-man, Hoxton finds "Doc" is a surprisingly down-to-earth guy.  Hoxton has always had a fascination with dinosaurs and enjoys talking to the so-called "Raptor King" about them.

"You get it too Hox.  Feathered or feather-less, there's just a primal magnetism about them.  That's undeniable.  You into their eyes, and you catch a glimpse into the primordial.  You may not always see it, but your subconscious reptile brain does."

"Yeah, I can't help but feel a connection with them."

"I can help with that Hox.  Have you ever tried meditation?"

"No, but it sounds interesting."

"Meditation is a spiritual process, the whole effort of which is to break the boundaries you have drawn for yourself.  Only then can you experience the true immensity that you are.  You must be unshackled from the identity you have created for yourself Hox."

"...but I'm not a prisoner."

"We've always been immortal radiant souls, yet now our mortal flesh has joined us for that eternity.  Life now is nothing short of redefining our eternal transformation.  You have a warrior's soul, Hox, but is it being rightly guided?"

"...I don't think I understand."

"But inside, you do Hox.  Your intellectual shell is just impeding it.  Your potentiality wants to drive you to greatness, you just won't let it."

"...but how?"

"It is at the crossroad of choice and bondage that fate has brought us together.  No man can grant salvation, but I can show you the path to it."

"Tell me more."

"Not so much tell, as show Hox.  Come see me and Trix tonight at our tent.  I think I'm done hunting."

As sunset nears, the hunting party rouses for their final expeditions.  Team Leader Hoxton is supposed to be guiding the hunts tonight, but instead insists Erik do it as he was up all day.  Erik tries to convince him otherwise, but doesn't disobey a direct order.  As the hunters leave, Bellatrix stays back as usual, but so does Doc Jack Barbera.

Dingo Hella creeps through the midnight forest with Matthew.  Per Matthew's insistence, they're doing a traditional stalking by foot: no lumbering stinky dinosaurs or noisy ATV's to spook the prey.  Matthew takes point with a light-amplifying NVG's, while Dingo stumbles behind him, occasionally checking his surroundings with the FLIR binoculars.

After hours of trudging through the forest, Matthew halts and motions to the ground.  It's a large pile of feces.  Matthew holds his hand close to it and waves Dingo.

"Sorry mate, I ain't gonna' to pick that up."

"No, it's still moist and warm you Aussie twit."

Dingo tenses as the hair on the back of his neck tingles.  He whirls around with his AS Val carbine ready, but sees nothing.   He reflexively ducks at the sound of Matthew's shotgun blast.

"I think I winged him!"

Erik scans quickly with the FLIR binos, just in time to see white hot blood spatters disappear into their ambient surroundings.

"You got him!  On your lead."

Matthew takes off at a clip through the brush, running down the wounded animal.  Deer with lung punctures have been known to run for miles before collapsing.  It's a desperate jog, but the beast's fate is already sealed.  For the hunters, it's simply a matter of not losing the trophy now.

Erik trips a few times on the chase, but the NVG-equipped Matthew ultimately finds prey and delivers a merciful kill shot.  It's not a Smilodon Populator as they hoped, but it is a fully grown 600 pound Smilodon Fatalis.  Either way, it's a major kill and Matthew is positively beaming.  The rest of the hunting party congratulates him as they call in over the phone.

By the end of the trip, Matthew isn't the only hunter who found his prey.  The hunters at the two blinds come back with Pronghorn deer.  Nowhere near as prestigious as Smilodons, but better than nothing.  Hoxton was seen sneaking out of Doc Jack Barbera and Bellatrix's tent partially dressed.

Fond farewells are made at the spaceport.  Despite an unsuccessful hunt for the legendary Smilodon Populator, everyone said they had a great time anyways.  In private, Matthew tells Dingo that he blames himself for letting the Raptor King derail the hunt, and doesn't hold it against Ocean PMC.  Your men all receive decent cash tips from each of the hunters.  As Doc Jack Barbera tips Hoxton, he leans in to whisper, "The real tip is yet to come, Hox."

Spoiler: Mission Summary (click to show/hide)

Mission Results: Success.  No casualties.  1 EKIA.  20k profit.  Personnel notes updated on Data Sheet.

Plan Rating: Good (+1)
Roll (2d4): 6
Plan Execution Result: 7 - Very Good

Mission Difficulty Roll (2d4): 3 - Much Harder Than Expected

Operator Improvisation Roll (2d4): 4 - Mistakes Were Made

[King Zultan]

Looks like we've improved as we haven't failed a mission in quite a while.

[ConscriptFive]

OOC Un-ironic Trigger Warning:  As you may recall, this particular quest-chain regards investigating an institutionalized human trafficking operation against political prisoners deemed PUC's.  As required, there will be some mature (sexual) themes here, though nothing explicit.

Mission Report Part (5/5)

ELSA69 Investigation of Flossmore

One operator will use client provided credentials to reside three nights for the "soft opening" of Flossmore's new adults-only resort.  The operator will use his inside-access to the presumably low security venue to obtain video recording of 'puck's and abuses against them.
As preparation, operator should review any materials provided by client, and further reaffirm their cover.  Operator should also review reports from the previous Flossmore mission, and familiarize himself with routes to/from the spaceport should escape or evasion prove necessary.  As operator is being picked up by chauffeur at the spaceport, no hardware (especially guns) should be packed that would break his cover as a luxury tourist.  As Victor "Mr. Blonde" Vega has an established cover on Flossmore (personally invited by the unwitting adversary) and familiarity with the area, he will be performing this mission.
Making full use of provided reservations, operator should take the chauffeur from the spaceport to the resort area.  A hidden button camera should already be worn and running prior to meeting the chaffeur.  Operator should confirm the resort location (presumably the former construction site) and note any external security for the resort.  After checking-in and confirming interior security/surveillance measures and procedures (especially smartphone policies), attempt to inconspicuously record identifiable HD footage of 'puck's and/or abuses.  Operator will rely on multiple button cams, unless he deems it safe to use his smartphone.  Operator should attempt to emplace, conceal, and recover button cams in locations he deems could remain undiscovered by resort personnel.  Operator should engage 'puck's in casual conversation, attempting to obtain identifiable information.
Obviously, this is a fully undercover mission and the operator should do everything possible to dress and act as a well-to-do tourist and not a paramilitary investigator.


Personnel:
*Team Leader* Victor "Mr. Blonde" Vega

Non-Standard Hardware:
*none*

Additional Guidance:

Get Vega a webpage on breathing techniques and golf. Preferably not just one on golf breathing techniques, but whatever works.

In addition we may consider equipping him with Fentanyl lollipops from the medical kit under cover of recreational drugs, under the assumption they are legal here. While we do not approve of employee drug use, this should serve as a cover should be be busted attempting to ask the pucks questions instead of doing the usual thing and may be used as "currency" to bribe targets in return for answers, or whatever else may be necessary. Maybe bring the emergency funds too, for use in emergencies and/or guard bribing.

It's snowing hard as Victor "Mr. Blonde" Vega returns to Lossarnach as "Rodrigo Lopez."  On a three-night undercover mission, he's unarmed and lightly equipped.  Dressed neatly in a black wool coat over a button-down shirt and chinos, he gives the impression of a well-to-do traveler on a long weekend trip.

Hoping not to arouse suspicion in case his baggage is screened, the carry-on sized roller suitcase behind him carries not much more than clothes and toiletries.  According to Salt, we she got rolled, she was interrogated, drugged up, and thrown in solitary.  Presumably they'd be more generous at the resort, but I guess you can never tell with modern-day slavers, can you?

His chauffeur is unmistakable: a man in his late forties holding an umbrella in one hand and a small whiteboard in the other.  He wears a deliberately Old World black chaffeur uniform.  He introduces himself as "Phil Malone."  Taking the suitcase from him, Phil leads him to his Lincoln Town Car sedan.

Sipping on a bottle of mineral water, Rodrigo makes small talk with the chauffeur.  He turns out to be a typical pleasant and chatty small-town fellow.  A miner himself back in the day, he's grateful Flossmore PCF saved the community from desolation.  "Not a lot of people would choose to live this far north.  But the PCF's new resort will really revitalize our community though.  I mean, I'm and owner/operator, but just like everyone else, nearly all my business has to do with the PCF.  The resort is going to bring a whole new class of folks here.  I used to drive a Toyota, but now I financed this Town Car to take care of you tourists.  (Car dealer tried to rob me, but I haggled him down to a 15 percent APR.)"

"Sure is quite the ride.  You said everyone works for the PCF?"

"You misheard.  Not directly, just that everything in town revolves around the PCF.  Not a lot of locals need rides to the spaceport in my case.  (...well I guess the residents at the PCF do, but they're all too broke to afford it, right?)  But, of course some of us do work for the PCF.  My son, for example, is a guard there."

Your operator perks up, "A guard?  What's that like?"

The chauffeur pulls up a photo on his smartphone and hands it back.  It shows a twenty-something male in dark blue SWAT-style gear, posing with a semi-auto shotgun in front of a marked SUV, "That's Jeff.  He's been a guard for a few years now.  He just got transferred to the Cert."

"The Cert?"

"Eh, some kind of acronym probably.  They're like a SWAT team.  It sounds dangerous, but it pays better.  Jeff insists it's technically safer as they mostly just train in the gym, and don't have to screw-around with the residents every day.  I mean, it's honorable work, but my wife and I would love if he did something safer.  You know, settle down with a nice girl and do some civilian work.  I know there's not a lot of that going on right now, but if this tourism thing really takes off, who knows, right?"

Rodrigo watches carefully as they leave town and head towards prison itself.  The evergreen wilderness around the prison itself is thoroughly snow-covered.  At a sub-arctic latitude on Lossarnach, it's already winter for most intents and purposes.  They drive south-to-north past the prison itself, turning onto the newly paved road your operators saw last month.

The construction site itself has evolved into something entirely unexpected.  Rodrigo finds himself being driven to a fantasy European Alpine village, overlooked by a prominent castle of some sort.  The various buildings on the resort have been finished with artisanal wood shingles and siding.  Of course the castle itself is an exception to this.  From a distance, it appears to be made from stone blocks.  Against the backdrop of snow-covered mountains, it's as idyllic as you would expect from a high-end resort.

At guest check-in, Rodrigo is greeted by a friendly face, "Mr. Lopez!  So good to see you again!"

He recalls the chipper blonde from before, but not her name.  Luckily she's wearing a name tag, "...Cyndi!  With you here, my vacation is off to a great start."

"Oh, aren't you a charmer Mr. Lopez.  I see your hand is better too!  Just to confirm, your reservation is under the code ELSA69, correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"Fantastic!"  She then straightens her posture and recites from memory, "Welcome to the Mystical Kingdom of Avondale, where every dream will come true.  And we mean that!  (As they say, a dream is a wish your soul makes.)  You, Prince Rodrigo Lopez, have an exclusive invitation from the Princess.  After dinner, you'll be joining her for a surely unforgettable night.  Welcome again, to the most mystical place in the 'verse."

The mildly confused Prince Rodrigo Lopez is shown to his room by a bellhop, who hands him a mechanical room key after stowing his luggage.  Putting his hand out, Rodrigo gives him a firm handshake before dismissing the bellhop.  He finds a handwritten invitation on his bed.  Delicate calligraphy on heavy cardstock stationary, it enjoins "Prince Rodrigo Lopez" to "meet the Princess" at the castle at 8 PM.  A pamphlet on the nightstand lists all the amenities that are still under construction, including the resort restaurant.  As a consolation, the resort does boast of a "24hr room service fit for a king."  Much of the menu doesn't fit his taste, but he manages to find something he likes.

After placing his order with room service, Rodrigo unpacks his operational gear.  He lays out his four concealable button cameras and six fentanyl lollipops on the nightstand as inventory.  While the cameras are an obvious choice for his investigative mission, the general anesthetic lollipops stripped from the PFASK's are more of a speculative item.  A synthetic opioid roughly 50 times more powerful than heroin and conveniently packaged in a more palatable candy-like form, fentanyl lollipops have seen a renaissance in the New Worlds as a hard recreational drug.  He also counts the 500 dollars in hard currency still in his wallet.  Between the two, a savvy operator should be able to petty bribe and entice as needed.

After chowing down on his burger, fries, and a 40oz Mountain Dew, the time has come to "meet the Princess."  Not sure what security to expect, he mounts one button cam on himself and hides his smartphone, fentanyl, and the rest of the cameras under his pillow.  Rodrigo is booked for three nights; presumably giving him three nights with the Princess.  "No need to press my luck on the first try," he thinks to himself.

The castle isn't hard to find, and is only a short walk from his lodging to the castle drawbridge.  A "Royal Guard," dressed like a clean shaven nutcracker, greets him at the otherside of the drawbridge.  He stands at attention with a medieval polearm.  "Halt, good sir!  Who goes there?" he asks in a cheesy version of a Shakespearian accent.

"Er... Prince Rodrigo Lopez, here to see the Princess?"

"Ah yes, the Princess has been expecting you, good sir."  He then drops the accent for a moment and leans in, "Booked under ELSA69, right?"

Your operator nods.

The Royal Guard returns to character, accent and all, "Good sir, the Princess of Avondale will see you in her throne room to the right."

After passing though a gaudily furnished lobby, Rodrigo takes the hallway to the right and meets another "Royal Guard."  Although similarly dressed in classical parade attire, this man is much more sturdily built and lacks the theatric flair of the man at the drawbridge.  "Halt, who goes there?" he asks gruffly.

"Prince Rodrigo Lopez, here to see the Princess?"

"ELSA69, Right?"

Your operator nods.

"Alright, pal.  You got an hour and she'll let you know when you're done.  Now, I'm here for the Princess's protection.  Have fun in there, but she screams in the wrong kind of way, and I'm going to make you scream in the wrong kind of way.  You get me?"

"Damn straight."

"And 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,' pal.  Start snapping selfies and shit, and your iphone is going to meet my size 14 boot.  Now do I need to pat you down, or are you going to be cool?"

"Ice cool bro."

The Royal Guard looks him up and down skeptically before picking up a trumpet of sorts.  Putting it to his mouth, a surely electronic speaker plays a medieval fanfare for him.  "Presenting: Prince Rodrigo Lopez" he cries.

The door to the throne room swings open and Rodrigo takes his cue to enter.  The throne room is a regally large open space appropriate adorned with tapestries and chandeliers.  In addition to the expected fantasy throne on a central dais, a prominent wide staircase leads to a balcony tier.

The door closes behind Rodrigo and a whimsical and vaguely familiar tune begins playing on a piano somewhere.  As he tries to place the song, he hears singing coming from the balcony tier.

"The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,
Not a footprint to be seen..."

Rodrigo looks up at the balcony, but can't see the singer.

"A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like I'm the queen..."

He still can't place the song, but her voice is amazing.

"The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside,
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried,
Don't let them in, don't let them see,
Be the good girl, you always have to be,
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know..."

Her crescendo is impressive, and even Rodrigo can feel the power refrain coming.

"Well, now they knooooow!"

Blue and purple cloth are tossed from the balcony, and Rodrigo looks up to see the Princess at the top of the staircase.  "You got to be fraking kidding me..."

Princess Elsa belts out the unmistakable refrain as she saunters down the steps,

"Let it go!  Let it go!
Can't hold it back anymore..."

She choreographically struts and dances through the throne room as part of her musical routine.  As she gets closer, her trademarked sparkly sky blue gown reveals itself as more of a sexualized translucent nightgown.  However, her hair and makeup are spot on, and she's a striking resemblance even without the song and dance.

Completing her number, Rodrigo is dumb-struck, unsure of where to even go from that.  She tries to lead him on to the expected behavior, but he can't bring himself to do it.  Knowing her status as a captive innocent compelled into sex work, Mr. Blonde can't bring himself to participate in that kind of exploitation.  "A man's gotta have a code," he reassures himself.

After repeated rebuffs, Princess Elsa is confused as well.  On orders to satisfy her customer's needs, she decides to go into a different song and dance routine.  It's operatic in nature (which your operator lacks the fine arts background to identify) and in some kind of European language (which your operator lacks the linguistic background to identify).  She's a gifted singer with some kind of music education, and in other circumstances her performance would probably be better appreciated.  Her musical set goes for a solid twenty minutes more until she breaks for a breather.

Now unoccupied in each other's presence, and awkward silence lingers.  She again tries to lead him on to no avail.  Checking his watch, he figures he's expended enough time.  He briskly thanks her and steps out.  Both Royal Guards are unfazed as Prince Rodrigo Lopez finds his way back to his lodging before his full hour is up.

Per your operator's report, the next day is very uneventful.  After waking to find another handwritten invitation from Princess Elsa slipped under his door, Rodrigo decides the to spend his daylight hours checking out the other amenities.  However, almost all of the resort's amenities are unfinished for the soft opening, and Rodrigo mostly stays in and orders room service all day.

Munching on his dinner of grilled cheese with a side of onion rings, Rodrigo prepares for his upcoming visit to the castle.  As far as contraband goes, the two Royal Guards were pretty trusting and declined to pat him down.  He figures he can smuggle in the additional three cam and place them in the castle for pickup on the third night.  Nothing would make him happier than catching a John on film red-handed.  As for the fentanyl lollipops, he's still not entirely sure who he should use them on and how.  (Guile was never Mr. Blonde's strong suit.)

The Royal Guard with the polearm greets him as he approaches, "Evening, good sir."

"I'm here to see Princess Elsa in the boo door tonight."

The Royal Guard suppresses a laugh and stays in character, "The Princess is expecting you in the 'boudoir' to the left."

Realizing he's not returning to the same room every night, Rodrigo would be unable to recover a planted cam barring active intrusion.  It's not the most damning of locales, but the castle lobby is the only room he can be guaranteed to return to tomorrow.  Rodrigo pretends the inspect the decor of the room, and quickly places all three remaining cams.

At the end of the hallway to the left, Rodrigo meets the same strapping Royal Guard from last night, "Alright pal, same rules as last night.  Do I need to repeat myself?"

"I'll be good."

The Royal Guard picks up his trumpet and introduces him with electronic fanfare, "Presenting: Prince Rodrigo Lopez."

Rodrigo enters an intimate and elegant bedroom area.  Princess Elsa emerges from behind a dressing screen wearing not much more than a smile.

"Uh, maybe you should try on some clothes?"

The Princess is again confused, but puts on something resembling an impromptu fashion show while Rodrigo sits on the edge of the bed awkwardly.  She wraps up her routine and saunters up close to him on the bed.

"How 'bout we just talk for abit, get to know each other?"

The Princess is visibly uncomfortable with this, but obliges.  To Rodrigo's irritation, she stays in character the entire time.  He hasn't seen that movie in over a decade, but he guesses her adages about her sister Anna, snowmen, and 8000 salad plates aren't factual, and probably wouldn't count as reportable intelligence even if they were.

Getting nowhere fast, except for a ethically compromising position(s), Rodrigo decides enough time has passed to end the night early again.  He leaves the castle and gets to bed without incident.

Waking the next morning, Rodrigo finds two messages slipped under his door.  As expected, one is from the Princess: She'd love for him to meet her sister tonight.  Rodrigo shakes his head in half disbelief, half disgust.  Rodrigo finds the second message more enticing.  In appreciation for his business, the resort would like to gift him a bottle of fine whiskey.  The free gift can be picked up from front reception at 11 AM.

It'll be irritating to miss his midday nap, but Rodrigo considers the offer in character.  "Who wouldn't take that bottle of whiskey?  Wouldn't want to look suspicious..."

He brings the message to front reception at the appointed time and Cyndi greets him cheerily, "Mr. Lopez!  I hope you're enjoying your stay so far."

"It's been unforgettable, Cyndi.  So, I got a note about a free gift?"

Cyndi beams at him, "That's right Mr. Lopez.  Assistant Warden Oglivy has your gift right over there."

Rodrigo remembers that name all too well, and warily enters the office adjacent to front reception.

"Mr. Lopez!  Rod?  Can I call you Rod?  I bet the Princess does after last night, amirite?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I bet she ain't exactly the Ice Queen they say she is, amirite?"

"...So I heard there's a free gift?"

"Rod, my good man, straight to business.  I bet that's the kind of thing that got you where you are in Rivendell, right?  Well let me show you a business opportunity you're gonna love.  You're having a great time, and I'm sure you'd love to come back to us.  You know, give some of the other Princesses a go.  Once this resort really gets going, we're looking to grow beyond our signature Prince Charming Experience and into other experiences too.  For example-"

"Could you get to the point?"

"Now imagine this, Rod.  What if I told you, you could overnight in the castle?"

"Okay, I'm just here-"

"Now, now, Rod, this will only take a minute.  Now, if you join the Mystical Kingdom Vacation Society, you can really be the king in the castle.  I'm talking luxury overnight accomodations in a castle tower, with a full-time chambermaid service on-demand.  What more could you ask for, Rod?"

"I don't know if I can-"

"Now, now, Rod.  It's not as expensive as you think.  As a valued soft opening guest, I'm willing to give you 25 percent off your first year of membership."

"I don't think I'll have the time-"

"Even better, Rod!  Have you thought of timeshares as an investment?  I get it Rod, a hardworking guy like you might not have the time to 'get away' all the time.  But surely you have business partners and employees that do.  What could be a better gift than another long weekend like this?  You know, a nice little performance bonus for that wunderkid in the office?  Office productivity can't help but soar under that incentive structure."

"About the whisk-"

"Just one more thing Rod.  Like any good investment, a timeshare is an appreciating asset!  An interplanetary businessman like you knows the concept of scarcity, right?  You're one of our first guests, and there's only so many nights in the castle to go around.  You need to lock down this supply before demand skyrockets.  You want to then rent or even sell your timeshare at a profit?  Well that's just good business sense.  I sure as hell ain't gonna stand in the way of that."

"But I-"

"Now, you're lucky hear this offer today, but if you walk out of this resort without a deal, I can't guarantee we won't be sold out the next time.  You're going to be kicking yourself if you don't cash in on this opportunity."

"Listen, I just want my gift."

Oglivy stands from his desk and shakes his head, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.  How about I take you on a personal tour of one of the castle tower suites?  It won't take long."

"Not interested.  Are we done?"

Oglivy hands over a full color brochure, "That's fine, how about you just page through this at your own pace then?"

Rodrigo flippantly tosses the brochure on the desk, "I said we're done."

"You drive a hard bargain and I respect that about you Rod.  I'm sorry to have interrupted your vacation.  I do want you to come back to the Mystical Kingdom though, so here's alittle something extra."  He pulls two bottles of whiskey from his desk drawer.  "No hard feelings Rod.  You go out there and have a great time.  I heard the Princess has got something really special planned for your last night."

Rodrigo takes the two bottles of whiskey and gives a curt nod before storming out the office wordlessly.

Returned to his room, he looks over the room service menu for something appetizing he hasn't had yet.  "What the hell is 'coq au vin' and why is it spelled that way?"  He missed his nap and his frustration is interrupted by a knock at the door.

He opens the door to a large fruit basket presented by a girl in a slutty approximation of a French maid outfit that's entirely inappropriate given the frigid weather.  "Anything, else you desire, sir?"

Rodrigo rolls his eyes, takes the fruit basket, and slams the door in her face.  He reads a card in the basket:

"Now imagine her on-demand!
      -Oglivy"
      
His last night on the resort can't come soon enough.  After finishing off his chicken fingers and a package of prunes from the gift basket, he makes his way to the castle.

The Royal Guard greets him with a wink, "Evening, sir.  Ready to go home with a smile?"

"Tell me the way to the Royal Baths."

"Straight ahead, sir.  Have a mystical night."

Rodrigo dutifully enters the castle.  He considers recovering the concealed cameras on his way in, but decides to see if he can stretch another hour of footage by picking them up on his way out.

Rodrigo passes through the central hallway, reaching a familiar Royal Guard who addresses him with a casual nod.  "Ready for the big send off, pal?  Double the fun, includes double the time.  Take it easy and pace yourself."

The Royal Guard grabs his trumpet for the third time, and Rodrigo enters a marble furnished hall centered upon a pool-sized bath.  Princess Elsa steps from behind a marble pillar wrapped in a towel.  Making eye contact with Rodrigo, she motions across the room to a redhead in a towel, "My sister, Princess Anna of Avondale."

"For frak's sake, of course her name is Anna AND she's a redhead," he thinks to himself.

"I'm honored to meet you Prince Rodrigo Lopez.  Oh, he's everything you said he'd be, sis.  I hope you don't mind sharing?" Anna teases.

Elsa giggles girlishly as they both drop their towels in unison.

Rodrigo moves to object, but Anna deftly pre-empts him, "Calm down tiger, we know you like to watch.  How about you relax in the pool?  The water's fine."

This doesn't strike Rodrigo as too objectionable.  Water is tightly recycled critical resource aboard the Mothership Leviathan due to cost/weight reasons, and passing up this opportunity would be a waste.  "The pool's filled already.  Might as well," he thinks to himself as he begins disrobing.

Stripped down to his Blue Diamond boxer-briefs, Rodrigo enjoys himself relaxing in the heated pool while the two girls frolick about.  Since he's already had two nights to try and work Elsa to no avail, he studies Princess Anna diligently, hoping she'll be more forthcoming.  Anna picks up on his intense focus on her, and tries to entertain him accordingly.  However, she quickly backs down from solely his non-verbal cues when she gets too carnal with Elsa.

Princess Anna herself, isn't that much older than Princess Elsa.  Definitely not older than 25, but with just enough of a mature edge to be perceived as more of a woman than a girl.  This is further amplified as she's not anywhere as committed to her cartoon Princess character as Elsa is.  The more Rodrigo thinks about it, there wasn't much of her IC beyond the initial intro, but he guesses most Johns probably wouldn't mind that.

When Elsa steps through a back door to get drinks, Rodrigo makes his move and waves Princess Anna to join him in the pool.  She eagerly slinks beside him in the pool, "So is the Prince ready to party?"

"Not yet... so where are you from?"

"I'm from... Arendale?  Don't be silly."

"No, where are you really from."

She frowns and admonishes him, "Guy, I'm just a girl earning her Premium Hygiene Plus Package.  I don't want any trouble.  How about you tell me about yourself, first?"

"Okay, I'm Rodrigo Lopez, an interplanetary businessman from Rivendell."

"Oh, how interesting," she says in a way that Rodrigo can't judge as either genuine or patronizing.

"I mean, I'm from Rivendell, but I mostly travel to Lossarnach and Anghabar."

"Heh, I hear things are abit rough on Anghabar these days."

"You follow politics down on Anghabar?"

"Me?  No.  Dangerous stuff.  I stay quiet, just like the wind that shakes the barley."  It's an oddly poetic line, and she eyes him carefully after saying it.

"Ah, well it's all over the news these days.  ...say, is Anna even your real name?  How did you end up in a place like this, anyways?"

Anna shuts him down fast, "Guy, I don't want any trouble!"  She recovers her demeanor quickly though, and whispers seductively in his ear, "Besides, I'm sure I could show you something more fun than politics."

Rodrigo jumps out of the pool as she pounces on him.  Elsa dashes back into the room at the sound of an altercation and Anna immediately gestures at her that nothing is wrong.  Anna turns back to Rodrigo and apologizes frantically, "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  I know I was wrong.  Please don't leave a one star review!"

Rodrigo scampers for a towel and gathers his clothes, "It's not you, it's me...  Everything is fine.  I just need to go."

Anna tries to stop him, "Let's just slow it down again.  Elsa, why don't you sing something?"

Rodrigo towels off in record time, "Girls, I'm good.  Thanks for everything though."

Throwing his clothes on, he runs out the door, only barely hearing Anna mutter something she probably didn't intend for him to hear, "Gorram voyeur pervs."

In such a hurry to leave, he nearly forgets to recover the three hidden cameras from the castle lobby on his way out.

Morning comes quickly enough, and Rodrigo packs up his belongings in the roller suitcase.  With the four buttom cams and four fentanyl lollipops safely secured, he checks out of the resort and is shipside by midday.

His briefing to Sam and Neil is met with disgust. "Intellectual property infringement and vacation time shares, can it get any worse?" asks Sam.

"I think that just about covers it," replies Mr. Blonde.

"Great job, cowboy.  We'll call you back if we need you."  Neil dismisses Mr. Blonde and downloads all the camera footage for review.

"GORRAMIT VEGA, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" bellows Ops Chief Neil.

Mr. Blonde hurries back to the office.  Neil angrily gestures to the computer monitors, "What the frak is this shit?"

If only Mr. Blonde had reviewed the footage mid-mission on his smartphone, he would've seen just how badly his documentary efforts were going.  The overall quality of the video is best described as poor to completely unusable.

"The bodycam footage from the first night in the throne room is good enough, but that's pretty much it, dumbass.  Reclined in the boudoir the second night, you filmed mostly the ceiling.  Wet and naked the third night, well, bodycams kind of need to be worn to work, don't they?  Amnesty International didn't pay for footage of a wet marble floor."

Mr. Blonde shrugs.

"They might be able to identify 'Princess Elsa' from the Throne Room footage, but you got no good shots of 'Princess Anna' at all.  That 'maid' was probably a puck too.  And why didn't you film any of the grounds or staff?  Maybe try to find and buddy up with another John?  What the frak were you doing all day down there?"

"What about the placed cams?"

"It was a nice try, but probably nothing the client would care about.  Take a look."

Neil fast-forwards through the highlights of the castle lobby footage.  The cameras caught two other Johns in passing, but nothing identifiable from the footage.  An overnight cleaning crew emerges from a hidden door and tidies up.  None of the girls or guards use the lobby, further suggesting there must be a back area and service entrance to the castle.

Mr. Blonde scratches his head, "Well, shit."

"That's exactly how I'd describe your work, cowboy.  At least the good news is that Chapman came back early.  She didn't want to spend any R&R in Goodhaven for some reason.  She might be able to polish this turd."

Mr. Blonde is again dismissed and Anna the HUMINT Collector comes in.  She's not happy about this either.  "So this guy gets to go to a resort, and I get shot at by some wannabe Wyatt Earp?  He's somehow fraks that up, and I'm the one to fix it?"

Sam tries to calm her down, "Anna, Ocean PMC is a team effort, and everyone needs to pitch in at a time like this."

"Fine, but I'm on leave right now.  I want overtime pay for this."

"Anna, you're a salary employee, overtime does not apply."

"...gorram lawyers... I guess you got me then."

Together, the four of them try to salvage something.  Neil reviews and edit the footage, while Anna debriefs Mr. Blonde again and works on the write-up.  Sam coordinates the effort and compiles the final product for submission to Amnesty Interstellar.

Amnesty replies, "You understand we spent our entire budget for this?  Before we can compensate you, we'll have to have our fact-checkers review this to see if we can even report it.  More to follow."

Later that day, they get another reply.  "We might be able to use this.  Can one of our fact-checkers speak with your investigator?"

Not having a choice at this point, Mr. Blonde sets up the call.  While identifying Princess Anna is impossible, the fact-checker thinks they might know the identity of Princess Elsa.  She sends Mr. Blonde a photographic lineup.

"That's her, 100 percent."

"Really, are you sure?"

"Like my life depends on it."

"Well her's probably does.  Was she singing in German?"

"It sure didn't sound like any Nazi shit."

"We'll take that as an 'I don't know,' okay?  But she could sing, act, and dance, right?"

"I mean, I don't follow that fancy stuff, but she was pretty damn good."

"They might have had some work done on her, but that really rounds it down.  We'll have to cross-check with the Green Party.  If 'Princess Elsa' is who we think she is, they're going to be very interested."

Spoiler: Mission Summary (click to show/hide)

Mission Results: Success.  No casualties.  20k profit.  Personnel notes updated on Data Sheet.

Plan Rating: Average (+/-0)
Roll (2d4): 2
Plan Execution Result: 2 - Complete Fiasco (Crit Fail!)

Mission Difficulty Roll (2d4): 8 - How Could You Possibly Screw This Up? (Crit Hit!)

Operator Improvisation Roll (2d4): 4 - Mistakes Were Made

[ConscriptFive]

Turn Four

"Did you hear a Casa Nuova boss took a dive down on Anghabar?"
"The news is saying it was a massive interagency operation among various AMR security forces.  They did lose a few officers in the process though."
"Officers?  You mean heroes.  In times like these, you gotta back the blue."

                     --Overheard gossip at Twenty Forward Lounge on Mothership Leviathan
                  
Contact Phase

Sam and Neil grin triumphantly.  "Four for four, with no casualties!  Looks like the new crew is finally hitting their stride," beams Ops Chief Neil.

"It was touch and go with Amnesty there, but in the end, all four clients were satisfied," adds Legal Counsel Sam.

"As far as personnel go, we're back up to a nine-man roster.  Hunt and Salt are both back to duty without restrictions.  He'll never have perfect fine motor skills with a prosthetic, but luckily it's his off hand," Neil states.

"WHAT THE FRAK, MAN!  THIS IS SOME SERIOUS BULLSHIT!" Redbrick yells from the hallway.

Neil and yourself make knowing eye-contact and excuse yourselves from your meeting with Sam to see what's up.

As you two approach the barracks, you can hear Redbrick arguing with another operator.  "You need to get that shit outta here."

"Aw, come on man.  He's just playing," pleads Hoxton.

You two entire the barracks to see a Canadian goose-sized Velociraptor shredding a matress.  An exotic animals expert (which neither of you are) could explain that's it's a juvenile Velociraptor mongoliensis with the feather-less mutation.  Seeing a clawed beast happily shredding everything in sight, Neil unholsters his sidearm and steps in front of you protectively. 

Hoxton pleads, "Calm down Chief!  That's my pet, Sid!"

Neil holds his .45 M1911 at the low ready, "This is not okay, kid.  Where did you even get that thing anyways?"

Hoxton guides the young dinosaur into a dog crate while explaining, "Sid's my tip from Doc Jack Barbera.  He'll be a good boy, I swear."

Neil shakes his head as he holsters his sidearm, "Well I don't know shit about exotic animals, but I do know that's they dangerous and expensive to keep.  You can't keep him here, and I doubt you'll be able to rent anywhere shipside on an operator's salary.  You need to sell that puppy pronto."

Hoxton looks to you, "Mrs. Ocean, surely we can work someting out?  Maybe build him a cage in the motorpool?  I'd be willing to gift him to Ocean PMC if you guys take good care of him."

Neil pauses, "...it could work.  We've got the space after we sold the Cooper Mini's.  It'll take some investment though.  Veternarians can't be cheap, and I don't wanna know how much kibble that thing is going to go through.  Definitely needs some basic obedience training too."

Hoxton replies, "See Mrs. Ocean.  He'll be no problem at all.  Maybe we could even train him as a Military Working Dog someday?  They say they're smart enough for that."

Neils looks to you, "It's your call Ma'am.  I'll get an estimate to safely house this thing, but it won't be cheap"

You finish your visit to the barracks and return to Sam.

"As for new business, Amnesty broke the bank on Flossmore, and can't afford anything until new donations come in.  Tyrell told us they're going to be keeping a low profile after such a high-impact operation on Anghabar.  Luckily, everything went so smoothly with Task Force Orion that both Casa Nuova and AMR should be receptive.  Agent Barclay from AMR CI/FP should be available again too.  Furthermore, while Amnesty hasn't gone public with the Flossmore report yet, they've likely contacted Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast and the Green Party for comment.  It's a time-sensitive issue, and I strongly recommend seeking business with those two contacts this month."

"Here's an updated list of contacts for the month."

Spoiler: Contact List (click to show/hide)

Lossarnach Country Club
-Small Corporation
Upscale recreational club focused on equestria

Potter Properties
-Small Corporation
Local real estate investors and developers

Anghabar Mining and Refining
-Medium Corporation
Largest single employer and exporter in the Thiel system

Tyrell Dynamics
-Large Corporation
High end AI and robotics corporation

Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast **NEW**
-Large Corporation
A massive and highly integrated entertainment-media empire built upon Old World intellectual properties (IPs)

Anghabar Mining and Refining Counterintelligence & Facility Protection
-Small Intelligence Organization
One of AMR's several paramilitary and intelligence apparati, ran by "Agent Barclay"

Los Tornadoes
-Small Criminal Organization
Rural biker gang

Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club
-Medium Criminal Organization
A franchise of sketchy clubs associated with organized crime

Slavic Vor
-Large Criminal Organization
Multi-polar Slavic crime syndicate operating throughout the New Worlds

Casa Nuova
-Large Criminal Organization
A hierarchical crime syndicate nostalgic for Old World Italian mafioso culture

Goodhaven Sheriff
-Small Law Enforcement
Resident law enforcement for an small town on Harad

Harad Marshals
-Medium Law Enforcement
Aggressive planet-wide bounty-hunters tasked with hunting dangerous fugitives on Harad

Flossmore Warden  **UNAVAILABLE DUE TO CONFLICT OF INTEREST**
-Medium Law Enforcement
Warden for Flossmore Debtor's Prison on Lossarnach

Coalition Expeditionary Forces
-Large Law Enforcement
Militarized security forces loyal to Coalition interests

Interstellar Red Cross
-Medium Political Organization
Non-profit organization dedicated to provided humanitarian relief

Amnesty Interstellar
-Medium Political Organization
Non-profit organization dedicated to advancing human rights and civil liberties

United Labor Movement
-Large Political Organization
Interstellar umbrella organization uniting various local trade and labor unions.

United Green Party
-Large Political Organization
Interstellar left-leaning political organization constantly pressuring the Coalition to adopt progressive policies

Interstellar Geographic Society
-Large Academic Organization
Non-profit organization dedicated to the exploration of the New Worlds and their terraformed wilderness

"Accordingly, here are my recommendations:"

(0) Lossarnach Country Club:
(1) Potter Properties: Sam
(0) Anghabar Mining and Refining:
(0) Tyrell Dynamics:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(1) Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast: Sam
(1) Anghabar Mining and Refining CI FP: Sam
(0) Los Tornadoes:
(0) Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club:
(0) Slavic Vor:
(1) Casa Nuova: Sam
(0) Goodhaven Sheriff:
(0) Harad Marshals:
(0) Flossmore Warden:  **UNAVAILABLE DUE TO CONFLICT**
(0) Coalition Expeditionary Forces:
(0) Interstellar Red Cross:
(0) Amnesty Interstellar:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(0) United Labor Movement:
(1) United Green Party: Sam
(0) Interstellar Geographic Society:

(0) Pay 30-50k to keep and care for "Sid" the Velociraptor:
(1) "Thanks, but no thanks Hox:" Ops Chief

Checking your email at your desk, you skim an odd message from "GandalfTheGrey@confinity.com."  It's some kind of nonsensical poetry that's clearly some kind of prank, if not outright spam.  You delete it accordingly and carry on with business.

[Powder Miner]

(0) Lossarnach Country Club:
(1) Potter Properties: Sam
(0) Anghabar Mining and Refining:
(0) Tyrell Dynamics:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(2) Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast: Sam, Powder Miner
(2) Anghabar Mining and Refining CI FP: Sam, Powder Miner
(0) Los Tornadoes:
(0) Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club:
(0) Slavic Vor:
(1) Casa Nuova: Sam
(1) Goodhaven Sheriff: Powder Miner
(0) Harad Marshals:
(0) Flossmore Warden:  **UNAVAILABLE DUE TO CONFLICT**
(0) Coalition Expeditionary Forces:
(1) Interstellar Red Cross: Powder Miner
(0) Amnesty Interstellar:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(0) United Labor Movement:
(2) United Green Party: Sam, Powder Miner
(0) Interstellar Geographic Society:

(0) Pay 30-50k to keep and care for "Sid" the Velociraptor:
(2) "Thanks, but no thanks Hox:" Ops Chief, Powder Miner

DFUC and Green Party are of course a special opportunity and I'm happy to screw up Flossmore, AMR CI FP we may want to repair our bridges with since it was something of a special opportunity in the first place, Interstellar Red Cross is an interstellar organization we already have an in with, so building a relationship with them might be smart for setting down after we jump, and Goodhaven I pick because I reckon the first four combined will probably give us at least two hefty missions.

Also, Jesus, that velociraptor would be a lotta money for not a lotta gain.

[Pokeboss44]

(0) Lossarnach Country Club:
(1) Potter Properties: Sam
(0) Anghabar Mining and Refining:
(0) Tyrell Dynamics:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(3) Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(3) Anghabar Mining and Refining CI FP: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Los Tornadoes:
(0) Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club:
(0) Slavic Vor:
(1) Casa Nuova: Sam
(2) Goodhaven Sheriff: Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Harad Marshals:
(0) Flossmore Warden:  **UNAVAILABLE DUE TO CONFLICT**
(0) Coalition Expeditionary Forces:
(2) Interstellar Red Cross: Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Amnesty Interstellar:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(0) United Labor Movement:
(3) United Green Party: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Interstellar Geographic Society:

(0) Pay 30-50k to keep and care for "Sid" the Velociraptor:
(3) "Thanks, but no thanks Hox:" Ops Chief, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44

I think the velociraptor is just not worth it, even if we have a dinosaur influence from our last mission an exotic animal are just not skilled enough to be used for what we do, maybe make Huxton watch Tiger King to get the image.

[Stirk]

(0) Lossarnach Country Club:
(1) Potter Properties: Sam
(1) Anghabar Mining and Refining: Stirk
(0) Tyrell Dynamics:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(4) Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44, Stirk
(3) Anghabar Mining and Refining CI FP: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Los Tornadoes:
(0) Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club:
(0) Slavic Vor:
(1) Casa Nuova: Sam
(2) Goodhaven Sheriff: Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(1) Harad Marshals: Stirk
(0) Flossmore Warden:  **UNAVAILABLE DUE TO CONFLICT**
(1) Coalition Expeditionary Forces: Stirk
(2) Interstellar Red Cross: Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Amnesty Interstellar:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(0) United Labor Movement:
(4) United Green Party: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44, Stirk
(0) Interstellar Geographic Society:

(1) Pay 30-50k to keep and care for "Sid" the Velociraptor: Stirk
(3) "Thanks, but no thanks Hox:" Ops Chief, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44

Are you guys dead inside? If being an adult means getting offered a velociraptor and saying "I can't afford these bills" then nobody should ever be an adult. In cases like these we should take a page out of Greywater's book and ask "What would Jesus do if you offered him a velocoraptor?" I tell you man, he'd keep it around and have it guide sheep or something. Feed it on multiplied fish. Be like Jesus, keep the dinosaur.

Plus we already named it. Too late to turn back now.

Anyway in less important matters we should probably hit both of the Event jobs, hoping we can double up on a contract. Otherwise we have no idea what anyone would be offering and just kinda need a second/third job. We kidna burned our contact with CI (though we do have a lead with one dude. Who sucks at spy stuff.), I'm not sure how much business Red Cross will have now that they decided "Screw this I'm out of here", and I'm not sure Goodhaven is at the point they have criminals attacking once a month.

[m1895]

(0) Lossarnach Country Club:
(1) Potter Properties: Sam
(1) Anghabar Mining and Refining: Stirk
(0) Tyrell Dynamics:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(5) Disney-Fox-Universal-Comcast: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44, Stirk, m1895
(4) Anghabar Mining and Refining CI FP: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44, m1895
(0) Los Tornadoes:
(0) Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club:
(0) Slavic Vor:
(1) Casa Nuova: Sam
(3) Goodhaven Sheriff: Powder Miner, Pokeboss44, m1895
(2) Harad Marshals: Stirk, m1895
(0) Flossmore Warden:  **UNAVAILABLE DUE TO CONFLICT**
(1) Coalition Expeditionary Forces: Stirk
(2) Interstellar Red Cross: Powder Miner, Pokeboss44
(0) Amnesty Interstellar:  **UNAVAILABLE**
(0) United Labor Movement:
(5) United Green Party: Sam, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44, Stirk, m1895
(0) Interstellar Geographic Society:

(2) Pay 30-50k to keep and care for "Sid" the Velociraptor: Stirk, m1895
(3) "Thanks, but no thanks Hox:" Ops Chief, Powder Miner, Pokeboss44

While I must agree with Stirk on the velociraptor question, there's no way in hell greywater won't snap up all the military contracts, and we don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to combat.

[Powder Miner]

I'll note that I suspect the Red Cross probably have loose ends left even if they aren't still trying to pull out, which they might be; as we saw in our mission with them, their attempt to pull out was an unmitigated fucking disaster, so there's no way they're cleanly out.

Also, keep in mind that we need 500k to make the next ship, and we only have 221k so far. This may be month 4/9 here, but I bet we'll have at least one more month go bad down the line, so we want to be real careful about our money. 30-50k is a lot of money -- eating up 2-3 of the kinds of contracts we've been getting so far -- and on top of gear investments this turn, we'd be putting ourselves down to 150-70k, which would be pretty damn rough to make up.

[m1895]

-snip-

I agree with you that IRC have plenty loose ends. I disagree with you that going through that Vietcong hell will be worth it, given that last time we every paragraph had a "wow it's a good thing the space VC don't want to kill you because you'd be fuckin dead" moment or two, and now they do want us dead or at least wrote us off as collateral.

[Powder Miner]

Those paragraphs were there in the context of having very poor ability to take the tactical measures necessary to prevent them from eating us alive, which we now have much better capacity to do thanks to the training of Simon.

[Stirk]

We'll probably need to put any tactical ability we have into the assault and recovery missions we're planning.

Also, keep in mind that we need 500k to make the next ship, and we only have 221k so far. This may be month 4/9 here, but I bet we'll have at least one more month go bad down the line, so we want to be real careful about our money. 30-50k is a lot of money -- eating up 2-3 of the kinds of contracts we've been getting so far -- and on top of gear investments this turn, we'd be putting ourselves down to 150-70k, which would be pretty damn rough to make up.

What is the point of making rent if we don't have a velocoraptor?

[Naturegirl1999]

We'll probably need to put any tactical ability we have into the assault and recovery missions we're planning.

Also, keep in mind that we need 500k to make the next ship, and we only have 221k so far. This may be month 4/9 here, but I bet we'll have at least one more month go bad down the line, so we want to be real careful about our money. 30-50k is a lot of money -- eating up 2-3 of the kinds of contracts we've been getting so far -- and on top of gear investments this turn, we'd be putting ourselves down to 150-70k, which would be pretty damn rough to make up.

What is the point of making rent if we don't have a velocoraptor?

Ressurecting extinct creatures is likely expensive, carnivores will be more difficult to feed than herbivores, birds are dinosaurs, if you want a dinosaur, let;s go with a small herbivorous bird

[m1895]

Well it's a good thing Raptors have already been resurrected, and there's no universe in which a parakeet is anywhere near as badass as a 'Raptor.