Roy Velorue woke up with a vague sense of discomfort.
Whether it was the humidity, the mosquitoes, or the natural unpleasantness associated with camping, something about the Congo just didn't sit well with him.
The net and dehumidifier next to his bed kept him safe from most of these elements, but they simply couldn't match the comfort he was used to. He pondered these things (and breakfast) as he scratched his stomach for 10 solid minutes. Transitioning into a poke, he made a mental note to start meeting with his physical trainer after returning to his home country. Finally, the noise of 30 people taking down the camp around his tent prompted him to get dressed and ready. After all, he had a mission and couldn't afford to delay.
Three brands of bug repellent later, he exited something so high-end it could barely be considered a tent to purview his surroundings. The rest of his retinue were performing their respective tasks to start the day. Six researchers, 5 translators, 2 guides, 5 logistics staff, 11 security personnel, and 1 butler ran about their respective roles. They reminded him of bees buzzing around a hive, with the same consistent hum of productivity.
He watched with a sense of satisfaction as half the security personnel supported the logistics staff and translators in deconstructing the tents, while the other half posed menacingly in key positions around the site. He had them equipped with state of the art exoskeletons which meant that: A. They could each take on a small militia and B. They looked badass (Roy valued that more than A, and was honest enough with himself to know it).
The guides were in a somewhat heated discussion about which paths to take, as the researchers prepared their equipment with doe-eyed glee. The academic aspect of this trip was more an accessory that he had tacked on to get the Democratic Republic of Congo's permission for the trip (bribes weren't enough these days), but they added a great energy to the caravan so he welcomed their presence. His butler, who he had named Chives, dutifully handed him his morning iced chai latte (with two shots of espresso). He had good people each pulled their weight and yet supported each other by being flexible in their roles. He gave himself a small pat on the back for deciding to hire them, before sitting down on the table prepared for him.
"Chives, the amount of cinnamon in this latte is good, but it tastes less fresh than I'm used to."
"I'm sorry, sir, but the storage container for that ingredient appears to have lost its seal during the last week of travel."
"Well *chuckle* we all must make sacrifices for the good of the expedition." Roy laughed awkwardly at his own joke, only to see the butler give his standard polite smile and continue with his duties.
Chives had been a bit of a failed experiment. After his parent's tragic death in a drunken yachting accident, Roy had grieved deeply. But he then saw the opportunity to pursue batman-ness and chased it out of his depression. He may have been older than Bruce at the age of 20, but he had hoped that being an obscenely wealthy orphan was more important to the backstory.
To achieve dark knighthood, he first had to gain the loving support of a household butler who had seen him raised. Unfortunately, Chives was the epitome of professionalism. Now, 10 years later, Roy's every attempt to connect with the man had failed, and he had given up on his scary gimp ninja dreams. The butler even entirely ignored the endearing/demeaning nickname, with no positive or negative reaction what-so-ever. For a decade. Roy shook himself out of a growing sense of intimidation.
He had to focus on the task at hand. An exceptional eggs benedict on the plate in front of him. It was important to eat well as to have enough energy to make the long trek through the jungle to the cavern in its deepest parts. A place where remnants of a formative society of Homo Sapiens were said to be found by past explorers in the 1950s, only to be forgotten as the trek was too difficult to pursue. He had found notes on it while perusing his grandfather's extreme hunting diary. The bookmarks of which were likely highly illegal. The whole idea had sparked a new light in his daily boredom, propelling him to embark on a new crusade. Maybe he'd make a better Indiana Jones...
He was interrupted from his musing (again) by the approach of the head of his security detail. The man's name was Bernard and he looked like a cybernetic bouncer with his suit and exoskeleton, both worn with cold efficiency despite the balmy climate. Bernard was his point of contact for the status of the expedition, given his need to understand the situation in order to best mitigate risks. He was built like a brick wall, but had a face which reminded Roy of the dog he shared a name with.
"Good morning boss, are you ready for the day's report before we head out?"
"Shoot."
"Internally, the caravan is operating at the desired level of efficiency with our progress through the jungle well within our budgeted time-frame. At this rate, the logistic staff report that supplies should last us well within time needed to make the full trip."
Roy nodded, "Sounds great, I've been told that some of the perishable storage units have lost their seal. Do you happen to know about this?"
Bernard mirrored the nod, somehow giving an impression that he was also wagging a tail, "Logistic has reported it, but we use different storage units depending on the degree of perishability and the level of necessity for mission success. The most we can expect to see go bad should be some spices or other luxuries should other storage units of this type fail."
Roy did his best to react positively to this news. It was good news. Not starving in the worst scenario was positive. Batman wouldn't care about fresh cilantro! "Great! Good job being on top of this above and beyond" (Bernard kept a stoic face, but the impression of the tail wagged faster.) "How are things in our surroundings? DRC officials had been very clear about indigenous tribes..."
"We've seen a few signs, but the guides have performed their roles well in avoiding any dangerous paths. For the most part we avoided any known to be hostile, and only skirt the known territory of relatively benign societies. Should we encounter any that do not let us pass, we cycle through translators in local dialects to negotiate. Failing that we do our best to retreat, but in the worst case we feel more than confident in dealing with any threats.". Bernard took a brief moment to ponder, cycling through the information in his mind, "Aside from that, there have been signs of larger panthers in the area, but again nothing we don't feel confident facing. We each still have enough tranquilizer that we should avoid bloodshed in all cases. The elephant we saw yesterday being an extreme example of this."
Roy recalled how yesterday a forest elephant had been unusually aggressive toward the convoy and had to be put down. The tranquilizer had been another suggestion to pacify the DRC, but again, it was one he approved of. It felt better knowing the animal had just been put asleep. He'd wandered the world with a sense of boredom and seen a lot of things, but unnecessary bloodshed was never his thing.
But something about the way the creature was troubled even when tranquilized, twitching occasionally as if in a nightmare, led to the sense of unease he'd felt waking up today. An animal shouldn't be able to dream like that if it was tranquilized... should it? Regardless...
He sighed gently and looked at Bernard, "Yes, I'm aware of most of that. Thank you, Bernard. Please keep an eye out for any other irregularities." Bernard nodded, dour but with the illusion of the tail still wagging, and trudged off to inspect the status of security for what must have been the third time that day. Meanwhile, Chives had prepared his pack and the team had dissembled the last of the camp (his tent and accessories), so it was time for the team to prepare to set off.
The convoy was three days away from its destination, and Roy was clearly getting a bit stir crazy. Listening to music/books and staring at jungle was getting old, and he had adapted to the pace well enough not to pay attention to it. He made a note to try and chat with the academic cohort during today's trek. They were the only people there not completely under his employ, which meant that they wouldn't go all Chives on him. Hopefully.