Tortilla Korea Latin-Asian Fusion Cuisine
Selva Sur, Tropicana
Approximately 22:30 hours, local time
"This should be the place," Steele said.
He entered a series of numbers into the keypad by the door, and the door swung open, revealing an especially pungent odor. Steele flicked on the lights.
"Fuck! It smells like somebody- oh, Christ."
An SOF agent was slumped against the wall with a bullet hole in his forehead and an empty handgun lying at his side. The room was decorated like a restaurant, but it was clear from the dust on the tables that nobody had ever eaten there. A staircase led upstairs, to where the agents would have slept. Steele drew the blinds and closed the door after the rest of the group had entered. Steele pulled out his MBITR and began to speak into it.
**Steele rolls a 90!**
<"Pathfinder, this is Renegade, status report, over.">
A minute or so of a muffled female voice swearing can be heard over the radio.
<"'S Pathfinder. Go 'head, Renegade, over.">
The voice on the other end of the radio yawns.
<"Accidentally engaged a group of drug smugglers back in the jungle. One minor casualty, and one major one. We've arrived at Selva Sur. One dead operative on the lower floor. Hold on, let me get someone to check upstairs, over.">
Steele looks at Adriana and gestures towards the staircase. She crouches and heads up, pistol at the ready.
After a minute, "Two more bodies up here!"
<"Pathfinder, we've found two more bodies, over.">
<"Roger that, Renegade. There were four operatives, so there should be a fourth body somewhere. Happy hunting. Pathfinder out.">
Steele swears and puts the radio back in his pocket.
"Now, let's get Boyd patched up."