"So... hold on... What exactly are you telling me here, Kap?"
Kaplan had spent the entire night fretting, but nothing had really happened, as tense as he was. After spending his initial adrenaline rush cagily peering out of his window at the sleek Viridian skyline of Tanden, he'd actually managed to coax himself into an early, if somewhat restless, 6am sleep.
Now, he stood before the desk of his employer, who currently looked like Kaplan felt. His own personal terminal was a flittering cascade of information: building plans, squad psychological profiles and CCTV feeds. His desk was an colossal pile of paper and ink and it was readily apparent that both himself and the trees hacked down to create said pile shared more than a few sentiments about the arrangement. Jutting haphazardly between a large sheaf of crumpled paperwork and a long abandoned (and apparently gestating) mug of what could hesitantly be called coffee was a nameplate so often found on the desks of high-flying executives.