Last time on Document: Artemis...

After finishing up with a less than great lesson with a bunch of rookies, you were called into help with a raid on an Artemis Initiative cell, currently the Department's 3rd dangerous enemy.

After successfully clearing out the hideout, taking many of the agents into custody, and many of their documents into your possession, the plot of infiltrating your organisation has been revealed and the threat of moles lies everywhere.

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You wake to the sound of a soft beeping sound, groaning and shouting? You don’t remember. Blinking slowly with the soft, red light flooding everything in your sight, you try to touch your face, only for your helmet to stop your hand. Your head clears and the words become clearer, the sound of gunshots sharpening your senses quicker. A lone figure stands over your comrades firing at something, probably what hurt everyone else. Picking yourself up, grunting from pain even with your power armour helping you up. Looking around, the twin control panel set five metres in front of you, and the open drop door. Something in your head clicks and you're already moving, setting yourself down into one of the pilot seats.

“This is Corporal Deltorian Tessan, from Raven-4. Requesting permission to EVAC. Tons of Casualties and I’m not sure we can hold out much longer.” There’s an unsettling pause, as the gunfire behind you gets louder and an explosion nearby rocks the Raven class dropship that you just woke inside.
“Corporal, your record has been confirmed, you are clear for lift off. Hell Is Freezing Over, Copy.” And with that, your training kicks in and the bird around you starts to hum, ready for take-off.

Turning in your chair, you see the lone soldier who was holding off the assault shove the last of the soldiers in the snow onto the dropship, walking off the dropship ramp.

You get up, quickly shuffling over to grab hold of the rifle sat next to one of the soldier. As if knowing you were getting up, the Soldier turns back to you, the display at the front of their helmet lights up, showing the face of a young woman, around your age. “Get going Corporal. That’s my last order.” Captain Amelia Hart, the normally chipper and sweet mechanised infantry captain that had led your squad, stood smiling wistfully as she watches you trying to hobble towards her. As you say this, she quickly rushes up the ramp, activates the ramp closing mechanism and dashes out as you fall, face first into the ramp, your chest hurting more than it already was.

Picking yourself up again, the thought of opening the ramp again, to try and rescue her again, drifts through your head. Your heart aches as you steel yourself, carefully hauling yourself towards the cockpit. Your hands hesitate as the final flight preparations begin.

As the Raven launches up into the atmosphere, you mumble to yourself, “Understood… Amelia. Sorry I didn’t notice…”
As the Raven enters orbit, you feel your mind going hazy. Quickly, you change the flight pattern to automated return, and as you stare out the window at the cold surface of Europa, the words, “Medical stasis” appears in front of your eyes. Slowly, your body drops to the floor as your vision blurs.

There’s a soft beeping noise that brings you back to your senses. The harsh light of your office hurts your eyes for a moment as the ocular augments begin to adjust off sleep mode. Standing over you, gently poking in your arm, was Harper, a slightly concerned look on her face. “Um… Del?... You fell asleep reading… and I was concerned.” As she says this, a slight tinge of red fills in her cheeks, as you push yourself up and start stretching.

Scattered across your desk were the collection of files and hard copy documents that you had pulled from the Artemis stronghold raid that you held yesterday. You had spent the entire night trying to figure out what the hell was going on and you were at wit’s end when you fell asleep.

Sitting next to you was a cup of coffee, in your favourite mug. Seeing as Harper was standing and moving around, you guess that it was probably her. That or your sister noticed that you had passed out and had decided not to troll you, leave the videogames and grape soda which she is addicted to, and get coffee, a drink she finds revolting.

As you start sipping from the mug (actually pretty good), what do you want to do?

>Try to remember what you did last night
>Make new headway into the files with Harper
>Take a walk and think things through.
>Write in

>>1995114
>Make new headway into the files with Harper

Calling vote, writing.

It had been a long night, as far as you are aware from the piles of files and documents that were now sitting on your desk. If you had truly gone through any of them, then Angel and Daemon, your helper AI's would have recorded what you had seen with your eye implants. SO, rather than doing the exact same thing twice, making new headway would be better. I mean, if you had found anything in the old documents, you would not be in your office, and rather, you would be shooting terrorists in the face.

When you asked Harper to help you with the workload, it was kind of a surprise that she agreed, no questions asked. Then again, something in your head told you that she might have done it herself anyway.

"Thanks for the coffee. And for worrying. I don't usually get many people worrying about me because it's mostly the other way around." With that, you carefully pass one of the more recent documents, to Harper and start going through them again.

These documents, the detail in them amazed you. Security routines, low level personnel profiles, and even blueprints of first clearance level areas. These were documents not important enough to be hidden or encrypted or taken away. Along with the 4th level clearance cards that were among the bad batch of cards, this could be bad.

As you finish going over a third file, a small slip of paper catches your eye. A mention of an arms deal and information trade. Seeing as how the writer mentioned that the dealer was adamant on seeing the cell leader, this could be the lead you needed. This took place in the slums (pretty obvious if when you thought about it) but there is no clear location. You're gonna needed to get some help.

With your new lead, you drop off Harper and head out to the Slums.

At first, the only sounds that you hear the revving of your hover-bike as you pulled into the “dense housing district” of town, but as you pull your hover-bike to the side, the sounds of hundreds, maybe thousands of people. Although the governments of the world may make you think that moving into the city would mean getting placed into the residential areas, the harsh reality of housing in most megacities was being placed into the slums as a “probation” period. The street is filled with cars trying to go down, people walking up and down the streets, and even more litter than one would wish to see in a lifetime. Any other member of Department 7 would have found this a nightmare mission, chasing down this arms dealer, but luckily (or unluckily, your choice) for you, a three month foster adventure with a couple, another month living there while on “probation”, and a surprising amount of rooftop parkour, this place was pretty much a playground. A deadly one, but you pretty much own the monkey bars.

For a moment, the civilians surrounded you as you powered down your hover-bike. It’s something that you have gotten used to, due to the fact that almost everyone wants to ride a hover-bike, but soon the crowd disperses as they notice the Department 7 logo that began displaying on the sides of your bike and smooth ceramic-alloy backed surface of your left forearm. You needed to find that arms dealer. There are a few ways to find this guy, and it depends on you.

>Go visit a friend that works as an information courier.
>Go see the private detective friend of yours
>Go find that mercenary friend of yours
>Go see if that Yakuza snitch you saved a while ago has info
>Go bar hopping for info
>Wander the Slums while Angel and Daemon figure this one out.

>>1995636
>Go see the private detective friend of yours

>>1995636
>Go see the private detective friend of yours

Private eye wins. Writing

The thought of tracking down this arms dealer was a little bit daunting, only due to the need to cover an entire slum. You only have a name, a referral from those files and your wits. You needed more information on who this guy was and what was happening, and who better to ask to track down a criminal than with the help of a detective. He might be a twitchy, slightly paranoid detective, he's thorough and an old school friend.

As you stepped into the dingy building where his office was, the smell of cigarettes smoke filled your nose. It might have been revolting if you didn't smoke in the past. The floor creaked underfoot and the streaking cracks in the plasterboard of the walls did not look good. As you stated at the weathered wooden door to Peter's office, labeled with his business and credentials, you can't help but mutter, "Oh how the angels have fallen."

Sitting in his office chair, Peter's dark blonde hair was streaked with ashy grey streaks, his reward for his stresses. His long coat was hung on the back of his chair as was the STRIKER pistol. A multitude of spent injectors and empty pill bottles littered his desk, alongside a pile of papers. As he comes to, his dark hazel eyes stare at you, quickly darting up and down your body before the thin wisp of his grin stretches across his face.

"What brings a Department 7 agent to such a dingy little office in the dangerous side of the slums? It's my company and hospitality, ain't it?" He pipes up, straightening himself in his chair. As you pull up a chair, you pull out the reference that you had copied from the file.
"I came to grace you with my presence, Peter. In all seriousness, I'm looking for information on an arms dealer in the area. Needed for an operation that's going down."
Taking the reference, he chuckles as he quickly pulls a blueprint and profile out from his desk.
"Well, Del, good news and bad news. Good news - I know who you're dealing with. Bad news - your little friend here... He's not gonna talk like you want him to."

Going over the blueprint, the building is definitely one of the old square buildings with those open air central courtyard, probably to have sights of people looking to double cross the supplier.

Now armed with that knowledge, what will be your plan of attack?

>Stealth
>Force
>Diplomacy and deception.

>>1996585
>Force
HARD
AND
FAST

Will call it for today. New update will be tomorrow. Thank you for today.

You stare down at the blueprint that is spread in front of you. The positioning was almost perfect for anyone wishing to fire on anyone below. The people that enter from the main entrance would be walking into a blender if the guards opened fire. But then again, when have you only used the front entrance to breach. The positions that had cover from the ground were exposed from the top and those that were good to defend from the roof were few and far between. The buildings in the area are probably close enough together to hop the gap, and your gear isn't too heavy. If needed, you can use that grapple in your cybernetic hand. With a wicked grin on your face you turn back to Peter. "Thanks Peter. Got everything I need now." You mention, mock saluting him as he packs his documents away.

Sitting on the side of the nearby building. You check over your best one more time, unload and reload your carbine and test the carbide blade built into your cybernetic arm. You memorise the guard rotation one more time, as Angel reports back on the assignment you asked of her. "Department has dispatched a quick response unit and you are cleared for lethal force. Happy hunting. Switching processing power to Daemon." With that, you deftly hop over the gap and sight in the first of the guards.

Roll some dice for me. Best of 3, lower is better, d100's.

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>1999377

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>1999377

I'll work off these two. Writing

You feel the beating of your heart quicken as the adrenaline starts to pump, but through sheer force of will, of concentration, it slows again. Your finger gently squeezes the trigger and the loud bark of your carbine echoes down the building.

The first guard falls in a heap, a clean shot through the heart. As the next two guards in the upper areas turn to see you, you empty a few more rounds into each of them.

With a click, your left hand opens up, revealing the grapple launcher built inside. Firing into the side of the building, you swan dive off the edge as a flurry of bullets fly over head. The sound of the motor slowing your fall, followed by a soft clack as it detaches is the only thing you can pay attention to as you roll, landing close to a support pillar that you rush behind for cover.

Flecks of concrete brush past your face as bullets riddle themselves into your cover. Between the sound of guns firing, you hear the sound feet shuffling and running. As you hunker down, Daemon's whisper like voice echoes through your head. "West side exit. Two guards with target, and seven more trying to engage you. Your call."

>Engage the rest of the guards holding you off then go after the arms dealer
>Make a break for the exit and hope to hunt him down.
>Grapple back up and follow from the roof tops.

>>2000502
>Grapple back up and follow from the roof tops.
We B A T M A N now

>>2000516
Second

I'll call it for today. Thank you for voting and will update around the same time tomorrow.

>>2000936
Sure thing QM. Thanks for running.

For a second, time feels like it slows. The bright flashes of the guns that were firing on you looked like twinkling stars. As if all at once, the stars flickered out, as their users began to reload. They obviously didn't know the rules about suppressing someone because during the two seconds of down time, you had popped out and domed two of them before grappling back up to the roof.

As you flipped onto the roof, landing in a crouched position, you carefully moved over to the edge of the building hoping to catch a glimpse of the target. "Car... Black, tinted windows, main Street." You eyes honed in on Daemon's words, a small back car that was speeding away off into the streets beyond. You had the right idea to move your hover-bike closer to the target building, however it was a few streets away.
"Been a while since I last did roof hopping." You said as you leapt off, just as the roof access door sprang open. In a display of skill and grace, you twisted your body into a horizontal roll, placing your carbine into its back holster and drawing your revolver. As you began twisting in the air, the dome of the guard that had come to check lines up perfectly with your barrel and as the fine red mist sprays into the air, you land rolling sideways, before pushing yourself up into a running sprint.

Slotting your revolver back as you quick start your hover-bike, a mini-map blinks up in your vision. Three paths light up, each coloured a different colour, and knowing the layout of the roads, you have an idea which way these roads are going.

>Red path, longest route but does not jeopardise any civilian lives if anyone were to follow you or a high speed chase were to occur.
>Orange path, direct route that could be dangerous for you and other civi's.
>Green path, second most direct route but it involves roof hopping and roof top driving. You do have a grapple and this hover-bike has a hop function.

>>2002733
>Green path, second most direct route but it involves roof hopping and roof top driving. You do have a grapple and this hover-bike has a hop function.

>>2002733
>Green path, second most direct route but it involves roof hopping and roof top driving. You do have a grapple and this hover-bike has a hop function.
For the sake of not tying this quest up, I'll vote the same

Green path it is. Would like some rolls.

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>2002879
Sure thing boss

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>2002879

Rolled 8 (1d100)

I'll roll another one just in case.

Writing.

Any other person would have thought you were crazy to have your AI consider going across roofs and buildings. In your defense, it wasn't you who programmed them, it was your sister, but all geniuses were thought to be crazy at some point.

In terms of driving skill, you've piloted a drop ship, half drugged, half dead, quite well, avoiding flak cannons and orbital cannons. A hover-bike on some roof tops was definitely no problem.

Revving your hover-bike, you flick the switch on the handlebars and as you drive up a nearby construction ramp, you hop the bike onto the roof, perfectly clear the edge and speeding off down the rooftops.

Air conditioning units, clotheslines, and satellite dishes were not matter, swerving around all of them. As you look down the street, you see the car, clearly marked with a bright red outline. Despite the tinted windows, you could see the outlines of the driver, a second bodyguard and the arms dealer. Looking ahead, you have time to snap off a shot if you wanted to, or jump off and try to cut them off. As those thoughts rush through your head, the soft whispered voice of Daemon echoes in your head. "Window composition analysed. Not bullet resistant. Optimal aiming angle and timing has been accounted for for both a tire shot and a driver shot. Cut off route has also been planned."

What will you do?
>Shoot the driver
>Shoot the tires
>Cut them off.

>>2003482
>Cut them off.
No telling how the car will react if we shoot either of those. We could end up killing the passenger

Cutting them off, writing.

"Remove shot vectors Daemon. Moving to cut them off." With a quickly flick, you line yourself up onto the edge a building, in line with a sloped building sight you can use as a ramp. Hitting it at 120km/h (74.565 miles/h), you sail through the air, landing (or more hovering) right in the path.

Staring down the driver, for a moment, an intense game of checked occurs, the speeding getaway car heading straight for you, but this wasn't the first time you did this, and you had contingencies. Luckily enough, the driver swerves a few metres from you, colliding into a nearby lamp post. The civilians that witnessed the crash rush to leave the area, a few dialing the authorities, not know who's before them.

From the wreckage, your target barely crawls out, his head bloodied and his once white suit now covered in bits melted seat and dirt. "You dog. You will pay for this. I'll be out of jail soo-" he begins before you walk over and stamp on hand.
"Just shut up already. Do you even know who I am?" You say as you clamp your handcuffs onto him. "I am the motherf****** law. You would be dead if it wasn't for what you know mate."

Sitting on the side of the road, the nice smell of tyre fires in the air, a pissy arms dealer sitting next to you. The guards that had, both dead on crash. The quick response unit van rolls up next to you, siren blaring. "Where the hell were you, Escort? We walked in a blender." As you sip from the bottle beer that you bought after dragging mister "I will feed you to my dogs", you shrug, clearly not bored of the situation.
"Got all the evidence possible?" You ask, taking another sip. Taking the injured asshat into their van, and viewing the evidence bags, you nod in appreciation before sitting back down in your hover-bike. "I'll see you guys at the debrief." You shout as you rev up your hover-bike, strap in before the auto-pilot drives you back to HQ.

Thank you for vote and sticking around. That will be the end of this thread. Hope to see you guys in two weeks or so.

>>2004143
See you then QM. Thanks for running.