[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/201218/8e5a368a67c3a5098f9e76fe5fe87a15.png[/img][/center][hr] [color=ed1c24][b]"Of course sir. Men like us are all subjects to our beloved."[/b][/color] Takeda let out a low chuckle at the wife joke. In a way yes. Men like him were bound by responsibility. Yet it was never a regret. Having a family is a great thing, yet many did not want to pay the cost for it. And that's perfectly why they never got involved in this political mess that he was in, nor did they ever get anywhere significant enough as citizens to pose a threat to these parasites of the country. The appeal for that kind of life was great for Takeda, but for someone like him, he had work to do. And to that, like a daimyo to the shogun, an accomplishment was promised. [color=ed1c24][b]"But yes, when Wednesday comes, you need only ask."[/b][/color] The Director bowed politely but firmly as Mashai left the room. Three days. He only needed one, if everything goes perfectly to plan. But then again, this team was new. Freshly formed, they contained a surprising amount of foreign agents or mixed-nationality. It is a cause for some raised eyebrows, but Takeda found nationalities pretty much irrelevant, only national interests. One of those members that Takeda found particular curiosity was this former FBI agent. She was to serve as Squad Operational Manager, which means she would share some degree of control over what personnel Takeda had at his disposal. Her professional dossier is impressive, but her medical history is the true glimpse to this woman's strength and character. Takeda more or less found something more than just mission completion to look forward to. Once the details of the task was fully downloaded to his personal devices, Takeda quickly gathered his accessories and filed out of the office. He made his way up to the main lounge, where some of his operatives were lingering for a good conversation, his cane accompanied his every step, in the same rhythmic pattern of one normal step one sluggish tap of wood on the floor. The most distinguished fraction of his identity, and yet to outsiders, it somehow gave a strange and mildly unsettling vibe. Like there was something crawling behind their backs. This unassuming middle-aged man with his chiseled face and a limp in his leg, there was definitely something to it more than that. He eyed some of the people around the main lounge with a stern and steely gaze before making his way into the briefing room. There, after uploading the data onto the machine to be displayed, a message was broadcasted to every room in the building with his voice. [color=ed1c24][b][i]"All Operational Personnel. Report to the briefing room with your name and rank as soon as possible. I await your introduction."[/i][/b][/color]