Corporate Capers and Falsehoods

[Tokoz]

 The Sambon Shipping Conglomerate was a multi-island corporation with outlets in ports all over Paradise, and even in the South and West Blue. The company moved product between the various islands of Paradise, and even took upon itself the tricky task of getting things back out of the Grand Line. 

Such a well-off company was naturally going to have a branch in the carnival town of San Faldo, enabling the shipping of the resources needed for the many parties that were ongoing all the time. The shining halls and hardwood accents showed just how well-off those who owned it were, and helped add a sense of elitism to those who worked there. 

Down the hall of one the building's floors strolled a suited figure like almost every other in the building. Carrying a clipboard and with a pencil tucked behind it's ear, the slightly huddled shape of Lassa Iskario was muttering over a small stack of paperwork. 

The Sambon Shipping Conglomerate, or SSC was suspected of moving goods for the Revolutionary Army, and possibly the underworld as well. Having such a vital component of the economy be potentially influenced by the World Government's enemies was a problem. However, openly accusing them of this would also be a problem. If the information was wrong, then there would be trouble for nothing. If it was right, it would likely just drive the radical elements elsewhere.

Therefor, this brought Lassa to his current location. Slipping into a file closet, having snuck into the building and begun impersonating an employee, the Cipher Pol agent began flicking through the file drawers quickly. Nobody was supposed to be in here, given it was lunch time, so he should have a few minutes to try and find some clues before he had to move on.

Ideally, nobody else would duck in here. After all, who else in this company would be in a file room during the lunch break? 

(Burgundy)

[Burgundy]

There was another out-of-place suit amidst this corporate headquarters, as it happened. Yet there weren't many who would wear a suit on a festival island like San Faldo, and one of these few was perhaps noteworthy for always being in-uniform. Yet for what it was worth, he fit in anywhere that held such a dress code.

Lawrence was your run of the mill salaryman by all appearances, so without much effort, he was able to idly chat his way through the building. Yet he wasn't here for the same reasons as an upright agent of the law, but he rather had more selfish purposes in mind. See, he was attempting to frame a certain business endeavor as a modestly long-running, upright company for purposes of forging proof of compliance with government standards.

He wanted to purchase a Merchant-Class sailing vessel for his personal business. He wasn't about to put in even more work to establish a multi-faced organization for this purpose, though. He simply needed to get some documents for reference and forgery purposes, while planting some documents of his own in their files. Receipt for receipt, document for document, and anybody who looked into it would find everything to be totally above-board.

The suited spy would be holding a manilla folder as he walked with purpose. For all appearances, he was on official business doing official work. He was an accountant after all, so any financial business was his area of expertise. On the flip side, he did wind up wandering a bit on account of not actually being an employee here, so it was difficult to navigate blindly, and asking for directions would break the illusion he'd expertly crafted. Plus it was lunch time, and anybody who addressed work matters at lunch was immediately suspicious.

Which lead him to noticing another suspicious individual entering a room down the hall as he turned the corner. Lawrence could only read the label on the door with any detail, it was the File Room, his target at well. His brow furrowed as he considerered what to do...

His feet moved on their own as he pondered, for he was too mission-minded to hesitate any longer, or perhaps he'd simply grown impatient from his search. Unceremoniously, he would open the door and enter the file room. Yet he didn't spout accusations or even confront the gentleman who'd entered before him. Instead, he did what he always did, and passed beneath suspicion, using his years of office experience to fit in perfectly, appearing as a sleepy office worker attending to some basic filework.

He simply walked in, and stood in front of the filing cabinets, scanning them for which one his file folder would go under. "Ah, here it is..." he'd say, opening the CH-CO drawer and then fingering through the folders to seek the proper alphabetical order. Before sliding his folder into place. Perfectly executed.

Once he closed the drawer, he would stand up straight and look at the suited male who was also attending to some files. "Look at us, a couple of workaholics," he would comment idly, shaking his head with a chuckle as punctuation. His eyes browsed a bit further, until he saw a filing cabinet labeled with 'blanks' which was his next target. He approached it and began rifling through the various files to find a shipment receipt template.

[Tokoz]

 If he hadn't had the degree of self control he did, the agent currently sorting through the file cabinet would have flinched and perhaps sworn when the door opened and another suited figure entered the room. Instead, he just gave a careless nod and kept sorting.

When the workaholics comment came, he chuckled and nodded. "Ah yeah, just gotta get some stuff done before the day's over, you know how it is." He opened another file and checked something inside, before making a check on his clipboard. How long was this man going to be here, he needed to check...

the exact file cabinet that he was walking towards. Dammit. 

Instead, he moved down a cabinet or two, and opened the drawer the man had just vacated. Maybe that new file would be of use, or have been recently censored. "Sorry, not sure we've met. What department are you from?" He asked casually. That was the sort of thing people in offices asked each other, right?

That would probably also prompt the same question back, so he pre-empted any such return serve. "Lassle Sambuck, just doing some internal auditing to make sure everything's in order. Boss is being paranoid about some of the files getting mixed up or messy and slowing things down in a pinch." 

Hopefully that'd forestall any further questioning about things, as well as satisfy the man's apparent desire to chat while stuck in a dusty file room together. Casually, Lassa opened the recently added file and began to see what was within, nodding slowly and pursing his lips. 

"Huh, interesting..." he muttered. It wasn't, not even remotely, but he had to look like he was doing something while he parsed through his knowledge of business terms to figure out what exactly he was looking at here. 

The odds of this one random individual having placed in the key piece of evidence he needed to prove whether or not there was something going on here was low. Still, weirder things happened all the time. This was the Grand Line, after all. 

[Burgundy]

The suited sailor would raise an eyebrow at being asked his department, but the gentleman would introduce himself as Lassle Sambuck from internal auditing, mentioning that a lack of organization was slowing the company's processing down a bit. Lawrence would call that suffering from success, and also rather convenient. Namely because this wasn't a regular who would recognize he wasn't here.

"Lorenzo Fairweather, shipping and receiving. Albeit, I'm more of a pencil pusher than a warehouse guy. Need to make some copies of the receipt and billing forms," he would carry on, weaving a detailed web of half-truths without breaking a sweat, even as he noticed her pulling out the billing details he just planted.

Said documents read 'Chequebook Consortium' (a heretofore unknown yet unremarkable business name) with a somewhat difficult to parse signature at the bottom, and were filled to the brim with legitimate-seeming overly official transaction information – a series of order forms dated back several years asking for sheets of steel, rivets, and so forth. Lawrence was very thorough with his forgery, albeit it was very easy to make paperwork templates for a business that didn't exist, but this second step was to have proof for himself on-hand, far more important.

"So the boss is worried about organization, huh? That's a shame, I always try to keep on top of my ABC's, but you just can't pay for good work ethic anymore. Maybe he'll bump me up to hiring manager someday and I can actually filter out some of the slackers," he would idly chatter, though realistically fishing for a promotion, since this fellow was in contact with the boss by some channels. In a battle of meandering office small talk, Lawrence was a force to be feared.

As he finally pulled a blank receipt form from the blanks drawer, and then immediately afterwards an itemized billing document, he would move aside and reveal with a bit of panache that he had alphabetized the blanks cabinet over the course of their perhaps minute of discourse, with a still business-stoic "Ta-dah–" as though it were a magic trick.

With a groan and a creak he would stand back upright, and pop some of his bones back into place. It was easy to tell that he was getting on in years, but not to the point of greying, and that years of sitting in a chair was taking its toll.

He walked past Lassle with the two forms in hand to a copy machine. He checked to make sure paper was loaded in, then began copying his sheets, first the billing forms. Then leaned against the front of the copier for a moment, watching this auditor with relative interest.

[Tokoz]

 Nodding along as the newcomer introduced himself, Lassa scanned the forms that had just been added. Checkbook Consortium, huh? He wasn't familiar with the name, but there were a web of companies and businesses who did business with the SSC. Still, maybe it was a cover for something? Could be some Revolutionary cell.

And would you look at that, there was a copier here. Weird bit of technology, and highly expensive. Supposedly it used some crystal to shine light through a piece of paper, then "burned in" the shadows of the ink. Some bizarre Grand Line ecological phenomenon that had been weaponized in the endless march of business. 

Then he paused. Wait, Shipping and Receiving? His cover was supposed to be from shipping and receiving. It was his reason for why he was sorting through this file cabinet, although he hadn't actually specified this out loud. Shit, then he was talking to someone who might actually know who he was "supposed to be"

As Lorenzo spoke about Hiring Manager and 'filtering out some of the slackers', Lassa nodded. "That'd be helpful. I swear, how hard is it to alphabetize something? Takes maybe 5 minutes." Pausing as the man stepped back and gestured, he blinked and let his impressed smile shine through for a second. "Or not. Although I think you may be the exception there."

He was about to head over to the Copier, but then Lorenzo got there first. Popping a pair of forms in, he leaned against it, effectively blocking Lassa from reaching his goal. Dammit. Was this intentional, was he trying to signal that he was suspicious? That comment about filtering might have been a subtle hint. Although...

From the sounds of it, this person might be more familiar with the office, and had been here longer. Slackers was also a weird term to use if you were suspicious someone wasn't an employee. 'those who shouldn't be here' or something. 

Was this another Cipher Pol operative telling him he was late? With all the units, wires did get crossed. Shit, what passphrase could he use. 'Visit San Faldo Recently'? Not really helpful given where they were. What about... 

"Nice suit by the way. Does the tailor sell it in any other colors?" Generally, the response was 'Just White and Navy', which was a tad unsubtle, but incredibly unlikely as a combination. Now he just had to hope it didn't sound like he was flirting. Again. 

[Burgundy]

Lawrence, in his rush to take care of business while maintaining a perfect haze of small talk appeared to have cut off the other worker in his haste. There was nothing suspicious about trying to get his own work done first, of course, but he felt like he was making a nuisance of himself. He needed around 10 of each document to match the number of orders he planted, however, he was printing about twenty so as to appear to be replenishing his deskspace. He figured this person wouldn't follow him around too much.

Actually, thinking about it, he took notice of the fact that the auditor had been approaching with the Chequebook Consortium's file still in-hand. That was oddly suspicious, since an auditor here to examine organization of files had no reason to be copying the transcripts of a no-name organization's orders from this legitimate business.

He held his tongue on the matter – instead, trying to parse the information quietly in the background of his mind. Lassle then spouted a vaguely familiar line, asking about if the tailor sold his suit in other colors. Where had he heard it before? No... there was no reason that such a line could be from any other time. Nobody ever made small talk with him back when he worked for Mr. Mustard, but many World Government agents would casually ask about eachother's suits before discussing business his ears had no business hearing.

There was no reason to dig his hole any further though. He didn't care about the affairs of the government, or their investigations. "My suit? I buy thrift and refit them myself. If you'd like I could probably retailor one for you, though my needlework doesn't come cheap," he would reply incorrectly, not feeding back the response this man was looking for. "But if I might ask, is there any particular concern you have with those documents you're holding, auditor?" he asked, pointing a finger lazily at the folder he still held. "I just took care of our most recent business with the Consortium. They ordered supplies for repairing a steel-hulled ship. Is there something wrong with the documentation we need to address?"

If there was one thing Lawrence needed to ensure about this mission, it was that his business and name stayed out of the scope of the World Government. So while he had this momentary advantage, he needed to clear his name. Of course, he clarified, "If there's a problem after all that panache I just showed it could damage my credentials and cost me a promotion, you know?"

[Tokoz]

 Hmm. Okay. So... not a government agent. Or not one that was willing to reveal themselves, anyway. Dammit, that would have made things much easier. And even worse, they were still in front of the copier. It had to be something, didn't it?

Now he was asking if there was an issue with the file. The file they had added. The file... which hadn't been in the drawer prior to this Lorenzo entering the room. 

[Trait: Inhuman Perception]

Come to think of it, he had started alphabetically and worked down. So he remembered passing the drawer that this file had been placed into. It hadn't looked like they had been touched in a few days at least, and some of them far longer. You could see the age and wear on the papers. Meanwhile, this file in his hand? It looked... off. It was pretty close, enough that the vast majority of people wouldn't notice, but Lassa was pretty confident that something was different about it.

Hmmmmm.

"Actually... I did have a question about that. See... I had a list of the cases in the drawers to audit. And I don't see the Checkbook Consortium on there. In fact, I don't recall ever having heard of the Checkbook Consortium before at all." He lifted up his clipboard, which did indeed have a list of the files on it, and tapped the C section on page 2. Time to go on the offensive. He couldn't accuse Lorenzo of the file looking too "new", but he could go about it under another route.

"You say they ordered parts to repair a steel-hulled ship, and from this file, it seems they've been doing business with us for several years. I don't recall ever processing an order from them, though. If it wasn't processed here, it shouldn't go in this file room. If it was processed here, why wasn't the file here at any point before this?"

If this really was an employee, either he'd call him out on some aspect of his claim or give a reason why he was wrong. If he wasn't, then he'd either have to bluff, or try and turn it back around. It was a gamble, but one that might pay off. A regular employee would have no real reason to suspect, maybe just get defensive. A competitor.... they'd be forced to justify themselves. 

[Burgundy]

His attempts to dissuade the marine spy from focusing in on his planted Consortium's paperwork only egged her on to actually present a case against it. While this at first appeared to be a step in the wrong direction for an infiltrator, it actually gave him an opportunity to smooth the plot holes over. Lawrence would hear out her points with a relatively stone-faced resolve, looking over her shoulder to analyze the checklist as she pointed out that indeed, the Chequebook Consortium was missing from her charts.

"I see. That's a fairly grim oversight indeed. Who put this checklist together and when? I can understand the error due to how generally disorganized our files are, but I won't have a slacker's mistake damage our business relationship with the Consortium," he would defend stoutly with a fine layer of good-employee-jargon and righteous indignation.

This was how an employee would behave, this was how an office worker would defend their work, their promotion. Lawrence was rich with office experience that a government agent would sooner replace with war zone experience. The sheer level of bureaucracy that he was ready to contend with gave the suited spy an unfair advantage here.

With that he would shrug and shake his head, turning back to the copy machine and collecting the paperwork which had been printing away as they conversed. "I've gotta report this documentation error to the boss myself," he would say with a furrowed brow, as he began walking purposefully towards the door with his paperwork in tow.

Of course, this was carefully laid bait. This government agent would have to question whether or not it was worth pursuit of a hunch if it blew his cover. Lawrence, playing his part to perfection, had no intention of reporting in to any boss. Of course, with all government agents, there was always the chance that they were a little too paranoid, and a little too morally-stunted to accept this game – With his free hand he would loosen his tie with subtle anticipation.

[Tokoz]

 Well played, supposedly fellow office worker. Whether or not this was another infiltrator, Lorenzo had successfully placed the blame elsewhere. And in a manner which made sense for an office worker. 

Lassa nodded, tapping the list. "Probably wise, then. Perhaps it's simply run through another department, it would explain a lot." Frantically, he tried to think of another angle that didn't have a hole in it. Still, unless he had some relatively definitive proof, he was out of this fight. 

As he opened his mouth to respond, the door opened in front of Lorenzo. A man with a balding head and a poorly fitting suit peered in. "Hey, you two ain't seen anyone come by, have you? Seems like we have someone who's not supposed to be here."

"Really? What do you mean, someone started drinking early and wandered in looking for a bathroom?" Lassa asked, raising an eyebrow as he set down the file. 

"Nah, nah, it seems like someone broke the lock on the back door a few minutes ago. One of the secretaries saw someone creep around the corner. If you see anyone, call for security yeah?" The man wiped his brow and leaned back, intending to be closing the door again. It took a moment for Lassa to realize that he, and possibly Lorenzo, had actually been saved by their proximity. With two people in the room, it was assumed that both were supposed to be there. 

So either this person had broken in, or there was another intruder in the building that wasn't in this room. It seemed like there was a bit of a prisoner's dilemma here. If either of them spoke up, the other's potential cover was blown. If they waited and the other spoke up, then any attempts to blame the person who spoke up first would seem defensive. 

Well, he wasn't called Cointoss for nothing. It wasn't for this, but it wasn't for nothing. He didn't say anything, and waited to see if Lorenzo would speak up. 

[Burgundy]

As he was making his getaway from this problem, a whole other problem manifested by the door opening just as he was reaching for it. Lawrence cut his movement off immediately, and took a few steps back to allow access to the room. The balding man who made his way in announced that there was apparently an intruder in the building. No du'uh, but he listened still.

It turned out that the back door's lock was broken open, and this was the prime giveaway. This actually presented a problem, because Lawrence came in through the back door, and he absolutely did not break the door lock to do so. Because Lassle made it to this room before he did, the suited spy knew he broke in ahead of time, and this meant that neither of them did this.

"A broken lock?" Lawrence would clarify in question form, "That's just unacceptable. I'll make sure security knows the instant I see a hint of suspicious activity."

As the balding man would make his exit, Lawrence realized the position he was in. A world government agent was investigating his plant, and a new intruder was discovered breaking in. If he let the agent maintain his cover, the agent could sus out this other intruder, and Lawrence could keep his fake name clear. All that reporting the agent would do is make his mission here more complicated and cause them to thoroughly search the filing area.

Ideally, they could find and apprehend the new infiltrator before they made it to the filing area, so it didn't fall under any further suspicion.

The door clicked shut, and Lawrence would hum in thought. "An infiltrator busted in, huh? What to do... I suppose we could play security ourselves for a bit, and guard the filing room from this individual," he would suggest openly to Lassle, "Wouldn't want some outsider futzing with the files, would we?"

He would lean against a cabinet and think a bit harder, "Then again, we're just a couple of suits. Some good it'd do us if man was armed and put us in the hospital. My insurance's co-pay is ridiculous... Maybe we should just get out of here and let security sweep the building?"

[Tokoz]

  Lassa hummed for a moment, considering the options. They could stay behind and guard the file room. They could also just attempt to leave, given the option. However, odds were that the files weren't particularly defensible. If the intruder's goal was to destroy them, then standing in here wouldn't actually stop anything. If the goal was to steal them, then they'd have to reveal themselves. 

".... Staying here to guard the files probably won't help much. They could be going to any number of other rooms, and we don't even know what they want. Not to mention, this room is cramped and can be locked. I'd say we should bar the door for now, put some cabinets so they tilt up against it when we close the door. Then perhaps we should make our way out and attempt to locate this intruder, in some other part of the building."

He raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want my work being questioned, or having to redo it because they think they might have taken something. Better if the bosses just assume everything in here has been undisturbed all day, yes?" 

He didn't know who this person worked for, and odds were good they were not allies. Possibly a pirate, maybe even a Revolutionary. But if he left him behind here, he couldn't keep an eye on him. At least this way if he was about to get doubleteamed by this Lorenzo and his backup, he'd know what direction they were coming from. 

"Not really in my job description, but sometimes you have to improvise, no?" He might well be teaming up with someone directly opposed to him, but from the looks of it, Lorenzo had a reason to want to stay mum too. The first priority was to avoid being made, not to retrieve the information. If he remained undercover, he could try again. If he was found out, he was screwed and so was anyone else who might take the mission after. 

[Burgundy]

Lawrence stroked his clean-shaven chin at the proposal to simply take care of the intruder themselves. He didn't think it was a bad idea, but it was definitely leaning away from the idea of the two of them being your average, everyday office workers. Then again, it would be better to ensure that the records didn't get toasted. Plus it wasn't as though the Grand Line had a shortage of freakishly strong individuals doing lackluster work to feed their families.

"Very well. Lassle and Lorenzo are gonna save the day, and get a little pay bump, perhaps," he'd say, pinching his fingers together with his thumb and rubbing them together, symbolically celebrating incoming wealth. Of course, as any office worker knew, pay bumps rarely happened when going above and beyond, and yet it wasn't out of the question to believe it to generate a little optimism.

Suddenly, rather than immediately going out and rampaging the hallways, he set the copied papers aside, and began stretching. Arms, shoulders, knees and back each got warmed up in order over the course of around thirty seconds or so. "Alright, ready. Let's take care of business, and go about our day," he would say, his voice feigning hype.

With that, he would open the door, scooping up his papers and proceed to exit into the hallway — And immediately stumble upon a suspicious person. A man who looked like every house burglar from a hallmark movie ever – black shirt, black snowcap not even worn over his face, white pants and boots, literally carrying a sack full of something over his shoulder.

The man blinked, and a beat passed before he tore off in another direction. Lawrence shook his head, "That was fast..." Before he started walking towards the direction the suspicious person left. He stepped around the corner for a moment, as *another* individual, similarly clad but with longer hair and a fatter nose leapt at him with a club.

Lawrence evaded, of course, but after he did so, he noticed something: A cartoonishly stereotypical bomb which was placed near where he dodged to, with a fuse and everything. The spark on the fuse sunk below the level where the suited spy could stop it, so he needed to avoid it... but how!?

A beat later, an explosion went off, charring the hallway's floor and walls, damaging a few mounted business awards. The smoke lingered uncomfortably long, but it didn't seem like there were any fires. Lawrence was heard coughing before he was seen — closing a door he'd opened to soak the brunt of the blast. "How terrible these intruders are," he would complain with a hint of irony, noticing that the halls in his immediate line of sight were devoid of said intruders.

Ah, if only he had a radio to contact security with. At least his papers were safe. He really should have brought a briefcase...

[Tokoz]

 It seemed that for the moment, they would indeed be working together. Cracking his neck, Lassa quietly worked his fingers one at a time, and made sure his muscles were loose. Nodding to his newfound partner, he stepped out of the doorway.

Immediately outside was the most obvious robber he had seen in his entire life. Literally, if he had a picture dictionary on hand, he was pretty sure the entry for "Robber", "Suspicious", and "Cliche" would have been a near-identical match for what he saw right here. 

"Are... are you serious? Did someone pay you to do this?" Lassa deadpanned, running a hand down their face. Jogging after Lawrence, he quickly came upon the sudden intrusion of the be-clubbed man and explosive. 

Leaping into another doorway, much as Lawrence had, he grunted once the echoing of the explosion had died. "I would agree with their terrible status, and all that implies." Dusting himself off, he glanced around the corner again. Listening for a moment, he narrowed his eyes and then gestured to Lawrence. First, to one side, he raised one finger. Then to the other, he raised two. Then, pausing, he squinted again and then raised one finger, and then a second before miming "big". Whether that was fat or muscular was a bit unclear.

Pressing against the wall, Lassa cupped a hand and groaned. "AAaaaaargh... My leg! oh god, my leg! I can't move!" A moment later, footsteps came from down the hall and a man peered around the corner with a leer. Reaching out, Lassa grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head forwards. Bending two of his fingers into a half-fist, he rammed the digits into the point where the neck and collarbone met. 

The thug's eyes widened, and a bit of foam poured out. He started to struggle up again from where he had fallen, but Lassa stamped down on his face, driving it into the floor. As the hall went quiet again, Lassa tilted his head, then frowned. He raised 2 fingers, then 5 more. 

[Burgundy]

Lawrence would stand by and try to translate, placing his back to an wall corner inside the room relatively in-view of Lassle, who couldn't make his military training any more obvious if he tried. The suited spy was formerly an employee of an employee, the most fieldwork he'd seen during his employ under that seedy fellow was the occasional bouncer-like task he was set to perform despite being far outside of his job description.

Nonetheless, Lawrence was fairly smart, so he could pick up what the agent was putting down for the most part. One side had one intruder, while the other had two – no, one big guy. Then he put on a little performance, utilizing what may have at one point been the oldest trick in the book, feigning an injury to bait out their target.

Judging by how one actually responded, this appeared to be a set of corporate hitmen. Lawrence could easily guess that somebody did, in fact, hire these men to break into this building, break stuff and hurt people. He sighed, albeit watching Lassle put down the fool who stepped over to finish him off was an impressive sight. That appeared to be some genuine kung fu or something – pressure points perhaps? Albeit, it was more or less just a throat punch...

Then Lassle gave another signal, flashing two fingers then five more. The suited spy would look at him with a confused look, finally unable to parse the gesture. He hand a hand out palm towards the ceiling without extending his elbow, simply indicating in a common gesture that he didn't understand. "There's 10 of them? 25?" he would ask in his indoor voice as if playing charades.

Of course, since he wasn't being quiet there was a slight chance that he would be attacked fairly soon, especially as he baited the event by stepping out of cover while loosening his tie. He noticed as he got closer that this fellow had neither a bat nor a sack of bombs and/or loot. A loud noise went off, as a bullet whizzed by his head. Lawrence had narrowly avoided death, but he would look in the direction of the assailant with a jaded, dead-inside look. Apparently this must have been the very face of death as the robber-looking gunman disarmed himself immediately, and tried to escape.

That simply wouldn't stand – Lawrence moved with incredible speed where a common man like this infiltrator was only able to move at an athletic pace, and Lawrence caught him within a few split seconds. As the man turned the corner, the suited sailor would move with his blind spot and seemingly appear in front of him.

From just out of view, the speedy salaryman delivered a cut with an unknown weapon, and the robber was sent falling backwards. By the time Lawrence was back in view, the only thing for certain was that he'd fixed his tie back into proper tautness for a business setting such as this, and the tie had a little blood on it, which he was wiping off with unnerving ease.

"Two down, and neither of them the first two," he would say with a bit of disinterest, his back leaning against a wall. "Not 100% sure what they're after, but I'm guessing they're just here to cause property damage and bodily harm," Lawrence posed, "A distraction, maybe?"

[Tokoz]

 Ah. The charades weren't working, huh? Well, fair enough. "I hear two groups of five, but that's all I can make out. Everyone else is running around and making too much noise for me to pin down what's going on. The only reason I can tell there's the two groups is their footsteps are going slower, and that's just on the floor above us and this one."

He was fairly perceptive, but he wasn't that amazing. The lack of a flinch when Lawrence was shot at a moment later caused him to give a slight approving nod. 

That sudden movement, and swift attack... Lawrence had been trained in manners not too different from his own. Interesting. It wasn't Rokushiki, but he could see some similar principles. 

"If they're a distraction, that makes sense. People will be focusing on the big noisy thugs, and not what anyone else is doing. Still, it could be we're just dealing with idiots. Maybe they really are sending people to do a smash and grab." He shrugged slightly, glancing down the hall in each direction. 

"Normally, I'd be trying to remain more subtle about this, but it seems this is a complicated day for everyone. At a guess, if they're upstairs, they're trying to work their way up from the ground floor. I think we stalled their advance on this one a bit, but it seems like they're sweeping upwards."

Given the typical level of noise in San Faldo, it seemed as though nobody outside the building had noticed it yet. This office took up all the floors in the middle of the office block known as Takanomi Plaza. 

"They might be trying to gather up everyone to hold as hostages, but they don't seem adverse to killing if given the chance." Gesturing upwards, he glanced over at Lawrence. "What's your call? I'd say head upwards and try to find what they're looking for, but we might be better off just trying to get out of the building and calling the local Marines." 

How would he react to that prospect, he wondered. He wasn't about to actively sabotage their temporary partnership, but at worst, he blew an infiltration mission. If this other guy wasn't World Government, then he had a lot more to lose.