My station for all of this folderol is in the hallway outside the big door of the ops room. Box is beside me, wearing his finest torn leathers. We’re both armed to the teeth, but that’s all for show. Our orders are to keep everything in our pants unless and until Blake personally orders us to take action. And yes, Virginia, even if it’s a case of self-defense. (That’s one order that’s going to be honored more in the breach than the observance, you can bet your hoop on that.) I know there are other soldiers stationed throughout the safe house, so the corp reps are going to have to march through a gauntlet of armed and nasty gang muscle—a reminder that they’re in deep and had better play nicely. Blake and Springblossom are already in the ops room, waiting, while Vladimir has the singular honor of greeting the guests (and being first on the chopping block if their main purpose is just to blow drek up).