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The man in the suit looks at you again, and continues his speech. "Yes. You. Excuse you! Right." He runs over to another table by the wall and brings you your card and your phone. His hand outstretched, he stays there, ready to hand the cards to you, until he remembers, "oh, that's right. You're hands are tied."

You ask, "What am I doing here?"

"Well isn't it obvious?" the man in the suit looks around at the other two in the room, searching for support. "We... are in need of a courier; one with a key card." He holds the key card up in front of you, and makes sure to have the image of your face staring back at you. "You can falsify an ID or a passport, but key cards require the real thing, you know? Only these can get through security."

[["But I don't have that kind of card, mine is for my office!"]]

[["Why haven't you gotten one like this before?]]

<table width="100%">
<tr>
<td bgcolor="#LLCLL" valign="top" width="100%" colspan="3"> <b>Status</b>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td bgcolor="#OOFOO" valign="top" width="8%"> Health
</td><td bgcolor="#DDFDD" valign="top" width="8%"> Headache
</td><td bgcolor="#GGFGG" valign="top" width="84%" rowspan="3"> Equipment:
<p><i>Unknown</i>
</p>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td bgcolor="#OOFOO" valign="top"> Location
</td><td bgcolor="#DDFDD" valign="top"> <p><i>Unknown</i>
<tr>
<td bgcolor="#OOFOO" valign="top"> Status
<td bgcolor="#DDFDD" valign="top"> Captive, tied