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 FlossmoreOne 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."
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