>>5761340You lay next to the humvee and let yourself drift into a nap. You awaken before the crack of dawn and get up to see your squad is already packing camp. Like any good American, you pitch in, although you aren't able to do much with your total lack of wilderness survival skills. You see someone new, an old man in spectacles, with leathery skin, calloused hands, and a mottled-green windbreaker. He shuffles over to introduce himself and shakes your hand with surprising vigor. "Agent Pearson, at your service." You reply. "George Armstrong, at yours." He looks you over and strokes his chin.
"Most of the men the FBI has me working with are in some way exceptional, but I suspect you are a sight more contemporary." You nod. "That would be right." He rolls up his sleeping bag and titters. "Fascinating. Well, you're in charge here boy, so I'll be following your lead. Preferably not into gunfire but I'm not picky." Once camp has been taken care of and evidence disposed, you gather everyone and make an assessment of your collective abilities.
>Are there any questions you want to ask before you get started?>(4/4) 