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Teams Hyacinth and Garuda advance cautiously, as Aught rides the tactical section for more information. Glittering casings catch stray light. Spent small arms munitions. The place is quiet, but for that - but there, in the distance, wheels rumbling, a van accelerating, faint shouts in a language unknown. Etch thinks. . . Czech? Slovak? Russian?
Sunday calls the reception and prepares to polish of his considerable array of charms and the phone rings and rings and rings. Pacing up the small incline leading to the doorway, Aught spots inside - it looks . . a mess. As if someone tossed it, quick and rowdy. Didn't know the guests at this place got so wild. Headlights spill in through the reception window, a red phone on the primary desk, ringing away. A tumbled human form in the corner, out cold.
Huddled beneath a rusty looking red van, a massive black goose bares a thousand tiny teeth and hisses at Aught. Tiny red splotches stain the creature and its not moving as we approach, huddling beneath the van. It's... been shot.
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TS Liren: Whup, Agent Aught, careful! Careful! I hear they can snap an arm. Or is that swans? It might be swans.
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Agent Inks: Goose hunting? Its way out of season. Also if they shot the bird and it lived, wouldn't they just have shot it again? Holiday, find out if the receptionist knows about some kind of event. Executive training seminars can get kind of hands on, it might be someone trying to prep his people for a hostile takeover with some kind of hunting gallery or who even knows.
. . .
. . .
Holiday belay that the receptionist is out cold, someone's assaulted a senior citizen and beaten her over the head with her own in-coming tray. Get the first aid kit in the car.
Garuda, Hyacinth, check the reception.
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>Garuda, Hyacinth to act
