Seattle. June 3rd, 2072.

The sun was shining when you woke up that morning, the birds were singing… the people on the city streets beneath your window seemed happier, full of life. A day full of promise.

Probably should have known it was going to be one of THOSE days.

It all started with a Notification Alert over your P2.0 network. A message waiting from Saul Greer, Corporate Assets Liaison with Horizon Group Seattle. It was so… direct. So to the point.

“Would be interested in discussing a business opportunity with yourself and others. Payout is estimated to surpass seven figures. If you’re interested and available for travel, please respond to this address at 3:30 p.m. June the 3rd.”

Then he thanked you for your time and signed his name. His name. Not a Johnson, not a Smith. Saul Greer.

The address given was for the Horizon Group Seattle’s regional corporate headquarters. Extraterritorial, home field advantage. Not exactly middle ground. Why there?

It had to be some sort of gimmick, some sort of … well, something. But, that “surpass seven figures” … that’s tempting. Real tempting. The kind of payday that says “Hello, private island in the Carib League.”

So, here you are. Sitting in a cushy waiting room watching a group of fish that probably cost more then your trid system swim in and out of a “genuine imported coral ecosystem”. You’ve been offered coffee, tea and an assortment of pastries… pretty much everything but a back rub. Nothing left to do but stare at the other men (wait… it that a goat?) sitting and standing in the room with you.

Jack walks the room in no particular direction.

Ah, you gotta love this big corp wig types. Keep ya waitin, but do it with a smile. I dont do much work for corps, I feel the suit can be entrapping. I like to think of myself as a free bird.
Jack holds his hands out to emphasize the word "free"

He glances around the room then shrugs. Pulls out a ciggerette, lights it, breathes deeply and exhales a puff of smoke towards the ceiling.

Ol' Scratch

The "goat" is sitting there as comfortable as can be. He has one of his cloven legs hefted up over the other, with a plate full of pastries delicately balanced on his lap. In one hand is a half-eaten bearclaw, and in the other is a bottle of Cherry SoyCola, complete with straw. When he catches the other gathered individuals staring at him, he flashes a look that simply asks 'what?' as he takes another bite. "Hey, it's free. Might as well enjoy it."

The small elf sat in his little, drab grey suit, quietly drinking his coffee and munching contendely on his pastry.

Well... this is interesting.
.... what's with the legs?

.... Nice fish.

That elevator ride sure was soothing. Always did like taupe....

The elf nods his agreement with the ... 'man'. Why let good pastries go to waste. Especially when they're warm.

Sitting taller than the rest the troll looked over the group assembled. Dressed in a well fitting suit he reaches into one of the inner pockets and pulles out a pipe, carefullying filling and tamping down the tobacco he lights it and sits back taking a deep puff.

One thing about corps they take us slightly larger folk into consideration when ordering the furninture.

Not big talkers eh?

As the first tendrils of smoke begin to curl into the air, a soft hum starts. Doesn't take long to place the source. An automated air filter detaches from a cylinder in the ceiling and glides into place above the troll, hovering two feet above the tips of his horns.

A moment later, a very pretty brunette human woman opens a door along the far wall and steps in. She flashes a dazzling smile before speaking, "Good afternoon, gentleman. We thank you so much for your patience. Mr. Greer has been running just a tad behind." She motions towards the door she just came through." He is ready to see you now, though. If you'd please be so kind as to come with me?"

Om nom nom. Scratch finishes off the bearclaw before fidgeting around for a danish. "Not out in the open, mate." He stares down the blabbermouth while taking a long sip of his pop.

When the secretary shows up, the satyr struggles to find a place to put his ill-gotten pastry dish. Standing up, he wipes his hands clean on his hindquarters before preparing to the following the chica in.

The elf looks at the human speaking with a curious expression. Hesitating a moment first he replies.
I'm ... sorry. I didn't realize your comments were directed at anyone in particular.

Then sits quietly again.

Well he's odd....

The elf finishes his pastry, before carefully setting aside the plate. He takes out a small handy wipe and carefully wipes down the dish before rising, coffee cup in hand, falling in with the assistant quietly.

Good mug. hmmm... " Horizon: We Know What You're Thinking." ... I wonder if they really do know that I'm wondering if they really know? ,...

The troll looks up above him at the air filter. Taking a deep puff he blows a smoke ring at the filter.

Standing up he nods to the secretary.

In a thick british accent.
After you maam.

The pipe returns to the side of his mouth.

Jack smiles and looks for a spot to put out his ciggerette. After looking for a few moments and finding no ashtray he puts it out on the couch. Then walks towards the door, winking at the brunnete.

The brunette smiles at each of them in turn, nodding slightly as they walk past. When the small elven man dressed in gray passes her smile brightens. "Please feel free to keep the mug, sir."

She waits until the last of the stragglers is out of the room before following them out into the hall.

@Jack


Taking her place at the front of the assembled pack, the brunette motions for them to follow. "Welcome to Horizon Group Seattle. If you're at all interested in art, you'll be pleased to see the work of local Seattle artist, Rico Cabrese, on our walls. His work with nanopaints and AR overlay is quite eye-catching." Indeed, the paintings on the wall seem to have a life of their own, swirling with color that reacts to the AR around it. As the group passes, the paintings seem to react to their body heat, changing from cool blues and lavender to a more potent red/orange.

At the end of the hallway lies a huge conference room, one that looks like it could easily encompass an Urban Brawl team AND their bikes. A huge mahogany table takes up most of the room with comfortable (troll sized) chairs pushed up underneath it. A man who looks like he could grace the cover of GQ magazine (or at least Plastic Surgery Monthly) stands at the head. He smiles as they come in, his teeth almost blindingly white.

"Thank you, Bridget. I'll take over from here. The brunette Bridget smiles and nods to the group before heading out the way they came, shutting the door behind her.

"“Hello, Gentleman. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Before we begin, can I get you anything? Water, coffee? I trust you were made comfortable in our lounge?"

Jack holds up his com and half-grins.

Yeah, got the bill as proof.

Beckett pulls out a chair half way down the table and pauses waiting for an invitation to sit.

Thank you sir, some tea please.

The elf gives the off beat human a sideways look, wondering at his manner, but moves slow towards one of the seats wit ha good view of the room, where he can still see the others, and most importantly, the exits.

Scratch flashes his most charming smile at the brunette as she makes her leave, slowly spinning on his hooves as she passes by, eyeing her up and down. "Yeah, thank you kindly, darlin'." His grin grows brighter still as he makes eye contact with her just before she completely passes him by. "Mmmf."

His smile remains as he continues the 360 move and goes to take an offered seat before it's even offered. "I'll take a White Russian if it's not too much trouble." His eyes scan the rest of the room casually. "Nice digs, by the way. Must have set you guys back a pretty penny."

Mr. Greer's smile twitches slightly as Jack flashes his commlink and then bounces back full force. "Excellent. Please, gentlemen, have a seat." He waves a hand, activating a dimmed AR screen. A soft feminine voice responds, her voice indistinct.
"Yes, tea please, Marjorie... and a White Russian.

Greer unbuttons his suit coat and sits, seemingly content to wait for the moment. Less then a minute later, an attractive blonde ork woman walks in, carrying a tray brimming with tea accouterments. She sets the tea in front of Beckett, pouring out a cup of Earl Grey. She smiles and then moves to Scratch, placing his White Russian in front of him.

"Is there anything else, sir? The woman pauses beside Scratch, waiting for Greer's word.

"No, thank you, Marjorie. You may go." Marjorie nods and walks out, closing the door behind her. Greer waits for the door to shut completely before speaking, leaning forward and steepling his fingers as he does so.

"Well, gentlemen, let's get down to it, shall we? I've invited you all here today because each of you has developed rather rock solid reputations when it comes to dealing with hostile environments... and that, that is what we are in need of today. The job I'm offering is not simple. It will involve travel, an environment that is admittedly hostile to your presence and a very delicate extraction of corporate property and up to six members of personnel. But, for your efforts we are willing to offer 2.5 million nuyen with an additional bonus of 100K for every member of personnel brought back alive. As you can see, this is no ordinary "shadow agreement". You will be operating as agents of the Horizon Group with all the benefits entitled therein... private travel arrangements, no customs, and most importantly as corporate agents you will not need to worry about outside law enforcement. Questions, gentlemen?

Perception Test Results

@Scratch


@Ambar

The elf, still standing, speaks up. He seems to keep from actually raising his hand, but just barely. His voice is smooth and even, no delays of heristation. It's just ... kinda flat. Not so much as to be bland and make someone say "Bueller..." , just .... low and slow.
Two questions sir, if you don't mind. First, is there a time frame for this "delicate extraction"? And secondly, is there any involvement with the creatures known commonly as "Bug" spirits? I believe also that any elaboration in regards to the terrain we would be operating in would go a long way towards a general assent among these fellows and myself.

Jack does a half choke half laugh.

Yea! Whats the fraggin catch?

Despite all the splendor in the office, there's only one thing that catches the satyr's eyes: Marjorie. "God damn, is this guy sidelining as a pimp or something? I'm just glad Cheri's not here. She'd give me the stink-eye for sure. Hell, last time she caught me ogling like this... well, I don't even want to think about it. Why can't she understand that I'm like a sex shark? If I stop moving, I die..." When the blonde ork drops off his drink, he can't help but get a quick look down her blouse before smiling into her eyes. "Thanks, love."

After taking a sip, Scratch reaches into his jacket and pulls out an old fashioned notepad and mechanical pencil. As the Johnson speaks, he scribbles a few notes down while simultaneously recording the entire conversation on his simrig out of habit. His eyes dance up and right into the Johnson's when he gets to the part about the pay, and a brow shoots up when he mentions the innocents in trouble.

Just before the others can start asking their questions, the goat lets loose his reply. "I'm in."

Greer's eyes widen slightly at the satyr's quick acceptance. "Excellent, Mr. Scratch. We're glad to have you onboard." His eyes shift to Ambar as he speaks, nodding as if to validate his questions. "Very good questions, Mr. Morn. Our time frame is simple: as soon as possible. Time IS of the essence. Hence, the price we are willing to pay. As for your next question, no... as far as we've been able to ascertain there are no indications that those commonly known as Bug Spirits are involved in this situation. The terrain... is unusual. I'm sure you understand my reticence to expound further on the topic until an agreement has been made, however I think it would be fair to say that you will be working within an urban environment." He pauses, taking a sip from his water bottle.

"A catch? I suppose all business arrangements have some sort of catch or another. In this instance, I feel I am being as candid as I can without some sort of agreement being made. After all, our own confidentiality must be maintained, something I'm sure you understand."

Drinking . Delay. He's thinking how to phrase his answer. He's worried we'll say no. He's shown a lot of his hand. Not holding much back, which is good for us, but what he is holding back is big. Not a good sign. 'Unusual terrian'? Not going to dare thinking 'how bad can it be . " ...woops. Ah well . Urban combat zone most most likely. Lagos? Chicago? some place cold perhaps. Cold but 'urban'? Fargo. Could be Fargo. .... Probably not.

Mr. Morn is quiet for a moment, considering. As there seem to be no more questions forth coming at the moment, he continues.
Perhaps some further information on the opposition you expect?

Aztlan perhaps? Detroit? Essen. That would be unpleasant.

Scratch remains quiet for the most part, aside from the scratching he makes on his notepad as the question and answers volley off of one another. At one point he looks up and sort of eyes a corner of the room as he runs some basic math through his head, then scribbles a bit more. A slight "ooh" look finds itself on his face just after he does so.

If he has any questions himself, he seems to be holding them back for now.

Greer nods his head. "Opposition. As far as we can tell, there will not be any direct opposition." Seeming to sense the disbelief that rises in the room, he hastily continues. "Now, that is not to say that there won't be ANY opposition. From what our sources have been able to tell us, this situation has... put others in the same situation we find ourselves in. As such, there may be other teams present at the site. Does that answer your question sufficiently, Mr. Morn?

@Scratch

Still standing with his mug of coffee, one hand in his pocket, the elf shakes his head slightly.
Not particularly, but it will do.

Due to the uncertain circumstances you seem to find yourselves in however, I think the offered payment would be a point of negotiation. For myself, I would be willing to take the job if the pay were increased to seven hundred and fifty thousand nuyen, in Horizon stock , preferrably in bearer bonds. Half in advance of course.

He drinks the coffee.

Hmm. Good caf.

Greer smiles again, that same blindingly white smile. Now, though... it appears more like the smile of a shark then a GQ model. Negotiation, it seems, is where he's most comfortable.

"Seven hundred thirty, Mr. Morn. Half in certified cred, half in Horizon bearer bonds. Half up front."

Morn nods, still enjoying the coffee. Very well. The bonds up front however.

Smiling even more brightly as he finishes off his drink, Scratch swishes the ice around a bit before resting it on his knee.

Sitting back in his chair, he gives a puzzled look to the elf as he begins negotiating our fee before we even find out what the real deal is. "Takes all kinds, I s'pose," he muses to himself. He otherwise remains passive and quiet as the discussion continues, more curious to see what the other two have to say on the matter than anything else at the moment.

Jack likes the sound of the negotiation as he listens.

Well, that about covers it for me. Im in. When do I start?

Beckett thanked the orc for the tea, sittin dow he placed the cup and saucer carefully on the table. He quietly watched the banter passing back and forth between the two negotiating, his pipe never leaving his mouth except to make way to drink tea.

Well the elf seems to have the negotations well in hand. That's a pretty tidy sum of money. Don't think they would try to screw us the way this is going. Good tea this.

Becketts' conciousness slowly opened to the astral.

Greer pauses to consider for a brief moment before nodding. "Very well, bonds up front. I'm going to assume that you speak for everyone here then, Mr. Morn?

At Jack's response, his eyes shift to the grinning human and he smiles. "Very good. Thank you, Mr. Salem. I appreciate your enthusiasm. If you'll just give your fellows another moment to decide we can move on to the more critical questions of 'Where' and When'."

His gaze falls to the remaining two hold-outs.

@Beckett

"Certified cred works for me. Not really up for the hassle of dealing with bonds and all that hullabaloo. But otherwise, yeah, sounds good to me, man." That said, Scratch follows the Johnson's lead and turns to the other two guys, jingling the ice in his glass impatiently as he waits to see what they have to say.

Just call me Jack. Im not the one wearin a suit right now. Jack puts a ciggarette in his mouth.
Mind if I smoke? I promise youre furniture is safe. Well, from the ciggarettes atleast.

Beckett nods.
That is agreeable to me. Shall we discuss the details then?

Greer nods toward Scratch. "Certified cred can be easily arranged, Mr. Scratch. And yes, ... Jack. I do mind if you smoke. It is not the well-being of our furniture that concerns me but that of your fellows and myself. I would prefer not to breathe carcinogenic chemicals, thank you." He smiles and spreads his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "But, as it would seem that you are all on-board, perhaps we should move on to the "meat" of the meet, so to speak."

Greer waves a hand and the lights dim. Six portrait-style pictures appear on the AR, five men and one woman. Each of the people are well-dressed, wearing the latest in corporate couture. And, like Greer, each is "Beverly Hills Beautiful".

"Twenty four hours ago, six members of our executive board were attacked while attending a corporate leadership retreat." Greer's hand moves and another AR screen activates, this one a video. "This is the video captured by a member of their private security team right before the attack. Unfortunately, we were unable to retrieve the sound file."

Greer presses a button on the AR and the vid file begins to play. The view itself seems to be a feed from an eyecam, several AR links running at the side of the view: ammunition supply, facial recognition software, and bio-monitors for five others. The cam scans constantly, taking in the group of casually dressed executives sitting at a table (of what looks to be a French Bistro) as well as their immediate vicinity. It looks to be a crowded urban street, maybe a festival or parade of some kind. Four other well-dressed men stand at various points around the executive group, each seeming to survey the scene in a similar matter. Clearly, the four are some sort of security escort.
Suddenly, one of the security team members jerks forward, his head exploding in a bloom of red. An instant later, one of the bio-monitors on the eyecam feed flatlines. The view moves forward quickly, cast down as if the owner of the eyecam is running. A second later, another bio-monitor flatlines. The eyecam jerks to the side and then falls, hitting ground level and not moving. A third biomonitor flatlines... and then another. The still active view shows the executives scrambling for cover under their table, most screaming. The vid fades to black and then static snow.

Greer clears his throat and speaks,"As you can see, the security team was dispatched with incredible efficiency. At first glance, this would indicate a designated hit. However, we have come to believe that our executives were not themselves the target of the attack. Their security was." He pulls up another AR screen. This one showing six Bio-Monitor readouts. "As of six hours ago, bio-monitor readouts for our executive team show them to be alive and well. At that point, we believe they moved into a shielded environment... making our continued monitoring of their well-being impossible. We're still not entirely sure what happened during this luncheon... all we know for certain is that our people were not the target of this attack. It appears it was designed to remove all security personnel from the area.

Greer coughs a little, the first sign of visible discomfort since the meeting began. "Allow me to be blunt, gentlemen. The corporate luncheon took place at a restaurant called "Belle's Grotto"... in the heart of Disneyworld Orlando. He sighs.

"Disneyworld is under siege."

Scratch was busy studying the AR displays, his own onboard agent recording and filing away the information for later reference. Then, when Greer gets to the end of his summary, the satyr nearly chokes on the piece of ice he was chewing when he's forced to perform a double take. After he recovers a moment later, his full attention shifts to the Johnson.

"I'm sorry, did you just say Disneyworld?!"

Jack laughs outloud.

Are you serious?! You're not shittin me?! Oh man! It was all worth it, the couch, the less then fabulous secretary, all of it!.

He lets out one more laugh and slaps his knee.

So If I take out Ursela, do I get extra points? You know shes behind this. Her and Jafar. What a terrifying two-some. We shoulda asked for more money fellas!

The elf ignores the babbling man, processing the scene laid out for them, looking up when he names the place.
Well that's just fucking brilliant.

Greer nods toward the satyr, opening his mouth to speak when he is interrupted by Jack's outburst. He waits until he finishes, his jaw tightening. His voice is well modulated when he does speak, perhaps the most telling indicator that he is biting back anger.

"We have tolerated certain actions on your part, Mr. Salem... the vandalism of our lounge, the lack of respect for our personnel and for our business... because you have a set of skills that we place high value on. However, at this point, you must ask yourself whether you are an asset or a liability. An asset is a professional with the appropriate decorum and respect befitting the situation. A liability is a hired gun, someone hired to do nothing more then point and shoot. We are looking to bring on assets, Mr. Salem, not liabilities.

Also, as a point of fact, may I please remind you that four men are dead, perhaps many more. And those six individuals shown on the AR screens behind me are my colleagues and friends. While we admit that the situation does lend itself towards humor, we do, in fact, take this situation quite seriously. Hence serious money. Should you feel that you will not be able to handle yourself in a manner befitting the seriousness of this situation... there is the door.

Disneyland? Good lord.

He looks over at Jack as he breaks out in laughter.
He obviously seems to know more about this beyond what has been revealsed but I guess that can wait till later to be discussed.

He removed the now almost out pipe from his mouth.
Do continue please sir, I assume there there is more information you have to give us on the situation before we start bombarding you with the questions I am sure are to come.

Jack still smiles. Feeling a little awkward at the sudden outburst.

Alright, alright. Ill keep my mouth shut unless I have a serious question to ask. Perhaps I was out of line, you have my apologies, please continue.

Greer nods. "Thank you, Mr. Salem, I'm glad we could clear the air. Now, I think the rest of you are probably as surprised as we were when we first heard. Let me show you the rest of what we know." Greer activates another screen on the AR, bringing up an aerial view of the entrance to Disney World.

“Disney World. Chosen as the most innocuous spot imaginable for our corporate leadership event. As you can imagine, we were unprepared for what would happen next. You’ve seen the footage of what transpired with our executive security detail… trust me, gentlemen, that was just the tip of the iceberg.” Greer stops to take a sip of water, clearly trying to order his thoughts.

"A little over 24 hours ago, something went horribly wrong within Disney World. Shortly after our executive team was attacked in the restaurant, the park went into lock-down. Those that were standing at the ticket booths and approaching using the tram system were given two minutes to evacuate the area before “deadly force would be used.” Most evacuated."

The scene on the AR changes, revealing a much different view. The wrought iron gates curved and bent to form the distinctive silhouette of Mickey now hang broken and twisted. Backpacks and strollers litter the front walks, evidence of people leaving in a great hurry. Dark brown liquid covers the ground in places, settling into the ground etchings, forming macabre versions of the mouse's ears. For anyone who saw the first images of the Renraku Arcology shut-down, the image is startling in its familiarity.

"Within an hour and a half of receiving the video feed you just saw, we had our own Heavy Response Team in place to extract our personnel. This is what happened... " Greer once again dims the lights and activates an AR feed.

The video that begins once again appears to be from an eyecam. The standard suite of tactical programs run down the side of the view: monitors, sensors, comms, etc. This time, fortunately, there is sound. It appears as though the team has managed to breach the entrance of the park and are within a "jungle" environment.

'Alpha's One through Three, move in.' On screen, three men wearing tactical gear inch forward slowly, using hand signals to guide their movement. The voice sounds again,"Bravo Team, you're up." A second trio moves forward, HKG12's up and at the ready. Suddenly, there is a loud boom that seems to shake the team. The sonar and radar sensors running on the tactical view light up, showing movement coming fast.

"We have movement! Movement! 11 o'clock. Get on it'! The two groups turn and dig in, bringing guns to bear. The ground begins to shake, trees and bushes swaying. Those on the ground seem to have trouble standing. Suddenly, there is a horrific roar. For a moment the sonar sensor redlines, then a massive Tyrannosaurs Rex plunges out from the treeline. The team hesitates for a moment before opening fire, heavy rounds tearing into the beasts legs. Artificial skin tears away, revealing an animatronic skeleton underneath. The dinosaur comes on strong, seeming to ignore the damage its legs are taking. It lunges for the second group, it's jaws snatching up one man whole while a swipe of its tail takes out the rest. Alpha team surges forward, only to be taken from behind by a trio of Raptors. The sound file cuts in and out, revealing chaos and shouted orders, screams.

The view changes, scenery rushing past. The owner of the eyecam is running. It stops short. A raptor emerges from behind a grinning Goofy statuette, a matching grin on its face. It lunges. The vid goes black.

The lights come back up. Greer waves the AR feed away. "This, gentlemen, is why we need experts trained in dealing with hostile situations." Greer clears his throat. "Your primary objective in this mission will be to retrieve our six members of personnel. However, due to the gravity and enormity of this situation, we understand that this objective may prove impossible. In the instance that you find our personnel dead or are unable to obtain the primary objective, we are prepared to offer 80K for each headware memory module returned to us. It's distasteful, yes, but necessary. Now, any questions?"

When do we leave?

As Greer's explanation progresses and revelations from the AR feed become more and more obvious, Scratch's entire demeanor begins to change. At first he simply stops jingling his glass. Then he leans forward in his seat. When the animatronic nature of the dinosaurs is revealed, his skin turns a ghastly white as the blood drains from it, and his breathing becomes labored. But even as those telltale signs of fear appear, they fade just as quuickly as his internal mechanisms counteract the effects. Even then, a slight shiver coarses down his spine and his system deems it an appropriate time to hit him with a dose of his Focus reality amp.

"I've seen this sort of thing before. Back in the winter of '59." The satyr's eye twitches despite the amplifier's effect, but that's counteracted a second later, too. "If it's anything at all like what I think it is, I see why you want to keep a low profile. Do you know if there are any other survivors inside? And can you supply us with the appropriate mapsofts, knowsofts, and a copy of those biomonitor frequencies and facial profiles so we can confirm the identity of the subjects when we find them?"

From what little you know of him, his sudden attention to detail and quasi-technical speech seems completely out of character. He was either just playing the role of a rube, or he must think this is really some seriously fragged-up drek.

"Oh, and can I trouble one of your secretaris for another drink?"

Ah. There he is.

A brief look of concern crossed Becketts face. He placed his teacup down and sat up a little more.
Do you know what area the HRT team went into, I'm guessing and hoping one of the theme areas. I would hate to be dealing with somebodys rendition of Jurassic Park. While I am not entirely familar with the skills and abilities of my colleagues here, I suspect that we are lacking a rigger, which is a little concerning give the footage we have seen. Who knows what else they have "animated".

Sorry to bombard you with questions just rattling them off as they come to mind. Besides transport what additional support can you offer, eyes in the sky? Someone outside to give us additional info? Or will be be going in and once we're in we're on our own resources? What is the status of the air space? Or do we have Pterodactyls flying around there? Will we have access to any additional resources in term of equipment if we find we're lacking something vital?

Beckett sits back awaiting a replay, a look of thought on his face as he considers more things.

Still quiet, the little elf watches and listens, not wanting to talk over his new "team mates", and worsen the bombardment. Besides, it's interesting to watch their varied reactions. The intelligent and purposeful questions being asked are reassuring.
The troll is right there. A Condor in the sky would be a huge help here. I wonder what kind of ECM we might be looking at.

Greer sits back down, having spent most of the meeting standing. He leans forward, turning to look at each of the men as they speak in turn.

"As we mentioned earlier, Jack, we would like a team deployment within one hour of the conclusion of this meeting. A private Horizon jet sits waiting for you on our private airstrip as we speak.

He nods to Scratch, his mouth pulling into an expression akin to sorrow. "We cannot deny that there are a great many similarities between the events of December, 2059 and now. We have a large unknown environment and a very large base of civilians - in our case, over 23,000. However, due to the failings and successes that resulted from the Shutdown, we now have a much better understanding of the sort of technology and tactics needed to bring such a place back to heel. All of our executives have been fitted with RFID tracers and bio-condition monitors. Once you are able to get within whatever environment is shielding them, you should be able to reactivate the tracers. We will, of course, provide you each with a full identification sensor suite as well as a knowsoft on extracting headware modules should the unthinkable happen."

Greer pulls up another series of AR screens, as well as finally opening the folder in front of him. He slides eight laminated maps across the table to Beckett, indicating for him to pass the rest around. "We have managed to procure several maps for you. The first is the standard layout map of Upper Disney World. The second is of the "UtiliDors" - or, Utility Corridors - that run underneath Disney. We have a feeling that this is where our people may be, as it would appear at first glace to be the most shielded location available. We will provide both maps as AR files in addition to these laminated versions that have been specially treated to be seen from on the Astral Plane."

Upper Disney Map
Under Disney Map

Greer stands once again and moves to a side wall, opening it with a palm. Behind the wall, is a contained wet-bar. He continues to speak as he pours out another White Russian and slides it over to Scratch.

"I think we could all use another drink at this point, Mr. Scratch. Anyone else?" He moves back to the bar and pours a finger of whiskey into a glass, swirling it as he speaks again, "As far as we know, Mr. Beckett, our HRT units were in "Adventureland" a brief jungle "land" near the entrance of the park. It would appear as though animatronics with the same size and scope of those witnessed on the vid file are rare. While I cannot ensure there will be no flying creatures of any kind, I can tell you that there are no permits listed for any Pterodactyls or similar creatures. Air space above the park is also being heavily monitored by Ares' Knight Errant. Should anything not cleared enter the area above the park, they will use deadly force. As I'm sure you may all well be aware, Ares is of a "nuke them all and let God sort it out"... which is an attitude we do not share. We would like to have this situation resolved before drastic measures are deemed necessary.

As for equipment, we are willing to provide you with any extraneous supplies you might need before we touchdown... and we are working on arranging airdrop privileges for emergency supplies should you find yourselves in need. Discrete drones used below the tree line should be able to run without attracting ARES attention, ... which, unfortunately is where you're going to need to run until we manage to discuss our op with the local Knight Errant affiliate."

Greer swallows back his whiskey and continues, "As for your crew itself, I think you will find that your crew is more capable then you think, Mr. Beckett. After this meeting concludes, you will have more time to get to know one another."

Morn's voice pitches in again.
I share my collegues concern for information. If you could make a high altitude Condor modeled drone available to us, preferably with an active pilot program equipped with Eagle Eye software, and a strong ECCM, it would greatly increase our ability to gather data and monitor our own progress, as well as remain above Ares' flight ceiling. It would need a strong signal of course, and excellent encryption.

Also, would it be possible to arrange for a means of extracting individual board members, should they be found seperately and be available for an immediate evacuation?

Greer activates the AR, noting the specifications given by Morn. "On board the jet we have a Condor drone equipped with satlink, clear sight and laser links, a rating 5 ECCM program, and a Signal rating 3. It is also equipped with jamming programs that can be initiated at your discretion. We will have it ready for your review on the jet.

As for the individual personnel pick-ups... this has been a matter of some debate amongst the staff and I. In our best case scenario, the airdrops we are working to arrange can also serve as an extraction route for our personnel and yourselves. Worst case scenario, you will have to find a way to make it to our LZ point with all members of personnel in tow.

At this point we have one LZ. Greer widens the AR map screen and indicates a location near the back."This area is currently undergoing renovation for the purposes of a water park. Their empty wave pool makes an idea landing spot and it is isolated from the rest of the park. Once you have personnel or should you need immediate extraction for whatever purpose, we will rendezvous there."

One hour is a bit short for prep. It would have been nice if they'd been more prepared. I guess they don't know what I'm thinking. I knew it!

The elf has a strangely satisfied smile as he nods to Mr . Greer.