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Thatcher sighed as he leaned against the dainty vanity that he'd been against for about fifteen minutes now and did his best not to rage about the room. His hands gripped, but didn't crinkle, the file that had been left for him to find upon waking in the strange room with little to none of his personal affects. His weapons, gone. Phone, gone. He was honestly surprised that he still had his watch but was grateful to know at the least what the time was. But all that meant nothing right now as his eyes the rich, warm color of melted chocolate skimmed over the weathered looking envelope as if it would give up answers any moment. He ran a hand through his dark hair and huffed in frustration. Thatcher didn't remember when he'd gotten here, what he might have eaten or drank that could've been drugged in anyway, or any strange smells that might suggest an airborne sleep aid, or, more likely a knock out gas. Another sigh. Another minute wasted in finding out what the hell is going on.
And when Thatcher could properly distinguish that he was wasting time and not just contemplating the reality of the situation that probably one of many copies printed on the paper in his hands he knew it was time to go and try to solve what ever mystery was taking place.

'Scooby-Doo eat your heart out.' he thought with a small smirk as he stood, all six feet and five inches of him now heavy with the burden of protecting his families good name. The false, but well faked, proof in the envelope that he now tucked into the back of his waistband, covering it with the onyx dress shirt the only incentive he needed to figure out that he'd better get moving and fast before this s**t hit the fan.

He'd figured out long ago that the door was unlocked but the hallways seemed empty, not that he'd really explored much, figuring it safer to just stay put until he found that damn envelope. Thatcher yawned and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes as he closed the door behind him and figured that either way he headed he'd find or be found and took a little stroll down the right of the hallway. Another five minutes of twisting and turning through the maze of hallways, Thatcher was ready to give up and try and find a room he could call it quits in when he heard the crackling of a fire place a few feet down the hall. His guard up, he tentatively stepped forward till he could get a good look inside the open doors that lead to a plush sitting room. It was lit warmly by the flames that licked at the wood in the fireplace, the light making the dark greens and warm brown hues look like something out of a Sherlock Holmes novel that he'd indulge in from time to time. Thatcher was a little disappointed when his secret hope of finding an evil man in a swivel desk chair, with a claw hand, and fuzzy white cat was dashed when his eyes found a grouping of familiar faces from earlier that day crowded on the seats and couches that were in the space.

Figuring that enough tension was taking over the room Thatcher took a spot against the wall facing the fireplace unnoticed and crossed his arms before clearing his throat to let himself be known, drawing a few eyes. "Howdy."

Thomas shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he sat closest to the fireplace. His hands were interlocked and placed against the back of his head. His attention shifted towards the light fixture as he recounted what had recently happened in his head. First and foremost, he had been drugged and robbed. He knew nothing about the culprit other than the information that was fed to him through the note. Thomas wrinkled his brow as he sat up straight, he'd heard one of the men say something about them sticking together.

Sure there was strength in numbers, but considering all the people that had vanished so far, he was positive they weren't dealing with an amatuer. Green eyes surveyed the remaining members, for all he knew the threat could already be within their ranks.

"While I don't know who is behind this..." he piped up, "I have a theory as to how they are operating."

The auburn haired man pushed himself up from his seat, he moved to the center of the room and began pacing back and forth like he always did when theorizing possibilities.

"I'm assuming you all received the same invitation as me, and I shall also assume that you all woke up a while ago in the same manner as me as well.. And upon awaking I was greeted by a strangely envelope with a crimson wax seal.." his voice trailed as he looked to the faces that were focused on him, trying to gauge their initial reaction. 

"I won't go into detail about what was written on it, but I will go so far as to say that it was disturbing to say the least. And at the time, I pondered our captor's motives and honestly, I couldn't see why someone would go through such lengths. If we had wronged a person of serious influence, why not drag us off and do away with us like the others when we were drugged?"

Thomas stopped abruptly and stared at a picture that hung on the wall. It was a portrait of an older gentleman with snow white hair and a piercing stare that seemed to look right into a person's heart.

"I believe this is all some sort of game.. I also believe we're being watched, that is.. If one of you isn't the mastermind behind this whole thing. I also believe whoever is doing this, isn't orchestrating this alone.." he concluded then he turned his attention towards the man with the golden brown eyes.

"We'd cover more ground in groups.." He started, but looks the others shot at him froze the words in his throat," But.. I do agree that it's safer to stick together." Thomas added with a smile.

In truth, Thomas wasn't as shaken up by the situation as he thought he should be. Sure they had been trapped in a large mansion against their will, and people were probably getting tortured and killed somewhere off in the basement. But those are risks that people had to take sometimes. Especially if a large sum of money was on the line.