>>1699073
>>Hold Viola off, but let the Marines secure the lobby.

>>1699073
>>Hold Viola off, but let the Marines secure the lobby.
Good way to stay alert for foreign Minovsky particle emissions is to not saturate the area first.

>>1699118
This exactly

>back
>writing

>>1699326
“We'll hold off at first and loiter,” you decide. “Marines, I want you to move in and secure the lobby, then we'll decide on the next move based on what sorta resistance you meet, if any.”

With any luck we'll have caught them all off guard.

“We can hope,” you sigh. “Approaching the station... time?”

“Thirty seconds,” ALICE informs you.

“We're stopping in twenty seconds,” you tell your Marines. “Fire up those engines.”

The train's metal wheels groan as massive amounts of weight slowly grind to a halt, and you sway slightly under the deceleration forces. Finally the train comes to a complete stop, and you leap into action. Viola pushes up off the flatcar and throws the protective tarp off, allowing the Marines to drive off onto the platform. The station platform itself is open to the air, allowing you to easily throttle up and push into the air under Von Braun's upper pressure dome.

“Not much room to maneuver in here,” you comment, Viola easily keeping itself in the air under the vastly weaker Lunar gravity. “Really wish we were out in the vacuum.”

“Not many people would be comfortable saying that,” Rossweisse muses thoughtfully.

When you're sixteen meters tall lots of places feel more claustrophobic than you'd think

Both are really fair points.

Eventually you find a likely place to set down, a wide, low building that looks sturdy enough to rest your machine on, and set it down on all fours to try and spread all those tons of metal as widely as possible.

“This is Team 1, moving into the target building.”

>dice+3d10, best of three

Rolled 3, 8, 3 = 14 (3d10)

>>1699433

Rolled 9, 8, 7 = 24 (3d10)

>>1699433
Go time.
Secret underground lair seems likely.

Rolled 8, 1, 10 = 19 (3d10)

>>1699433
welp

>>1699447
Damn fine job.

>>1699447
Nicely done, anon!

>>1699486
“We're not getting much on sensors,” you mutter. “Sis, can you confirm the whole suite is working?”

Confirmed. All the sensors're working just fine.

“That means the headquarters is a dead zone,” you nod. “Rossweisse, confirm?”

“I'm getting nothing,” she tells you.

“Marines, keep on your toes!” you bark. “Sensors're suggesting a dead zone on the target, building's blocking our sweep. Confirm.”

“Message confirmed, Captain,” a Marine sergeant replies. “Thanks for the warning, we'll be...”

“Repeat message!” you insist loudly. “Sergeant?”

“Rossweisse, message terminated at source,” you report. “Not sure if it's down to signals blockage or if they've been engaged.”

“It could be either one,” Rossweisse replies. “Protocol is to re-establish contact, so we'll find out in a few minutes at most.”

>Then we wait for contact.
>Screw it, I want to move in for close-in fire support.
>There has to be a jammer of some kind. We're destroying it.
>Other?

>>1699551
>>There has to be a jammer of some kind. We're destroying it.

>>1699551
>>There has to be a jammer of some kind. We're destroying it.

>>1699551
>There has to be a jammer of some kind. We're destroying it.

>seems fairly decisive
>3d10, DC 18, Crit 23, best of four because LOL NEWTYPES

Rolled 1, 9, 10 = 20 (3d10)

>>1699615
Or go for some generators. Might help the ground team, if they're fully kitted.

Rolled 7, 8, 10 = 25 (3d10)

>>1699615

>>1699637
wew.

File: Carrina_concept_codec_view.png (377 KB, 637x634)

377 KB PNG

>>1699637
>Carrina throws it into overdrive

File: drgUQcH[1].gif (2.92 MB, 1024x435)

2.92 MB GIF

>>1699664

Rolled 1, 10, 8 = 19 (3d10)

>>1699615
!

>>1699664
“They have to be running some kind of jammer,” you realize aloud. “We're blowing it up.”

“I guess?” Rossweisse responds even as you leave the safe harbor of the rooftop.

The jammer itself might be located inside the building, but I'll tell you what wouldn't be inside...

“You're thinking about hitting the generators,” you realize, maneuvers bringing you into sight of the SNRI headquarters building. “We can sight those visually and hit them with the 55's.”

That's what I was thinking.

There are a lot of buildings in the immediate area and not much in the way of space to maneuver, and the parking space seems to be underneath the building itself. So that's not an option... really the only way to get a clear shot is an overflight.

So that's precisely what you do.

“Got them!” you shout. “Four of 'em on the rooftops. Catrina, highlight 'em.”

The HUD illuminates your targets, and you open up with the Viola's relatively undersized 55mm vulcans. Short, controlled bursts of two or three rounds from each tear into the rooftop generators, knocking out all four in a single pass.

“We've knocked out their on-site power,” you call out to your Marines. “Sergeant, report in!”

“Captain!?” the Sergeant shouts back. “We've come under fire from some kinda private mercenaries... armed to the teeth!”

>Order the Marines to sweep for any military hardware then pull out as quickly as possible.
>Order them to deal with the mercenaries first, buys you time to examine the situation later.
>The mercenaries are probably holed up. Get the Marines to relay the location and light them up.
>Other?

>>1699762
>>The mercenaries are probably holed up. Get the Marines to relay the location and light them up.

>>1699762
Hmm. This'll be tight. On one hand, time is an issue and the more they're stuck in, the more likely it is for the Marines to get some casualties. On the other hand, even with just head vulcans being used, we might wreck the place too much to gather additional, material evidence.

>>The mercenaries are probably holed up. Get the Marines to relay the location and light them up.
Short burst volley. Are we still equipped with those tracer layout, beam-like rounds? Damn, I forgot the specific term for it. Could be too much collateral in this specific instance.

>>Other?
Maybe birdlime the target locations that are too fragile for weapons fire of MS caliber? Let the Marines do a sweep afterwards.

>>1699811
I can get behind this strategy.

>3d10, DC 18, best of three
>no critical

Rolled 3, 6, 10 = 19 (3d10)

>>1699831
Probably not the sort of "danger close" our Marines are thinking of. I hope they're used to this brand of crazy.

Rolled 3, 1, 10 = 14 (3d10)

>>1699831

Rolled 5, 7, 3 = 15 (3d10)

>>1699831

>>1699831
“Report their locations back to us,” you order, “then fall back. We're going to put the fear of newtypes in 'em from out here.”

“... say again, ma'am?”

“I'm saying danger close, Marines,” you reiterate. “Get me the targeting information.”

“Alright, this better work!” the sergeant shouts over the sound of gunfire.

After several tense moments you hear back from the sergeant. “Alright, hitting send. We're falling back, down the hall and back to the entry point!”

“Move your asses or lose 'em, Marines!”

“You have thirty seconds!” you tell the man. “Good luck, Marine.”

Forty seconds later you hit the firing stud and put a few dozen 55mm clay rounds into the side of the building.

“Rounds complete!” you report to the sergeant. “Effect on target?”

“Good sweet LORD those things're loud!” the Marine yells. “Corporal, check that hallway, what're we looking at?”

After a few moments, you hear the results. “Someone's waving their whities at us, I think it must've worked!”

“A white flag?” you muse. “How quaint.”

“Mostly white,” the sergeant corrects. “How do you wanna run this?”

>Secure the survivors, assess casualties and we'll get them medical attention. Then I'll dismount.
>I'll dismount now and we'll assess the situation together. Can't waste time.
>I'm moving on to check on the situation with Senator Hawke. This situation seems secure.
>Other?

>>1699931
>>I'm moving on to check on the situation with Senator Hawke. This situation seems secure.
I trust our grunts.

>>1699931
>>I'm moving on to check on the situation with Senator Hawke. This situation seems secure.
Is Rossweisse keeping an eye out here? Have her keep us posted for any developments, if so.

>writing

>>1700001
“Well, this is as secured as things're going to get,” you decide. “Artesia, how are things on your end?”

“Well, could be better, could be worse,” she replies cryptically, in a tone that worries you a little. “We have the offices secured, but the situation kind of escalated.”

“Escalated how?” you ask.

“Senator Hawke's bodyguards have holed up with him in a public restroom,” Cima explains.

Hostages?
“Hostages?”

“Two that we know of, secretaries who took a group toilet break to freshen up their makeup,” Artesia informs you. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

>We'll be on site to secure the area, but the local PD should handle it.
>I'll be there. I am the BEST hostage negotiator! Trust me!
>I'll come over, but I'm leaving Catrina at SNRI headquarters.
>Other?

>>1700029
>>We'll be on site to secure the area, but the local PD should handle it.

>>1700029
>>We'll be on site to secure the area, but the local PD should handle it.
>I'll be there. I am the BEST hostage negotiator! Trust me!
^ kek

>>1700029
>We'll be on site to secure the area, but the local PD should handle it.

>>1700047
Oh, and if we're bringing Catrina, keep the bulk of the MS away from the restroom's line of sight.

On one hand, its presence might make the hostage takers fold sooner, but there's also a chance that it might spook them into doing something foolish.

>>1700029
“We'll be there to secure the site, but I'm not exactly humanity's greatest negotiator,” you admit. “I mean Haman could talk the spots off a leopard, but that requires entirely too much talking compared to how things could go.”

“I say let the local cops handle that.”

“Probably safer,” Artesia agrees.

“Marines, send out a general call if you run into any more trouble,” you order. “Other than that just make sure the place isn't disturbed until Artesia's subordinates arrive.”

“Roger that, ma'am.”

It takes only a minute or two to cross town, since you're not having to negotiate with the rush hour traffic, until you arrive at the Lunar Senate's offices. There's quite a crowd around the outside of the building including several camera crews, complete with news vans. All eyes are trained on the entryway where the local police have already sectioned off the entrance, though your arrival means most of the cameras turn skyward to follow your landing.

“You're making the news,” Rossweisse reports, snapping you a video feed inset into the corner of your display.

Damn I look fine.

You can't help but chuckle as your sister checks out what amounts to her own forty-eight-ton body. “Lean and mean, sis.”

You don't think these thrusters make me look fat?

Still chuckling, you pop the front hatch to your mobile suit and position yourself with a good view of the floor your information tells you that Senator Hawke's office is on.

Meanwhile, you can hear clamoring from below... one of the news crews has peeled off its constant coverage of the front of the building to check you out.

>You have a rifle tucked in here someplace. Ignore the film crew and get a good look.
>Maybe you should be inside the building? Just a thought.
>Ah, hell. Leaking the details yourself seals the deal against Hawke, so go for it.
>Other?

>>1700110
>You have a rifle tucked in here someplace. Ignore the film crew and get a good look.
We can play with the newsies later.

>>1700110
>Maybe you should be inside the building? Just a thought.

>>1700110
>>You have a rifle tucked in here someplace. Ignore the film crew and get a good look.

>writing
roll me 3d10, best of three

Rolled 2, 3, 10 = 15 (3d10)

>>1700159

Rolled 5, 6, 3 = 14 (3d10)

>>1700159

Rolled 3, 9, 7 = 19 (3d10)

>>1700159

>>1700159
“I think we've got a carbine tucked away in here someplace?” you mutter over the mic.

“You should have a survival carbine,” Rossweisse informs you, “beneath a panel in the side of the hatch frame.”

Sure enough there's a small handle on the edge of the Viola's cockpit, and releasing it pops a small panel free. Inside is a small rifle, short barreled with a wire stock and a five-round magazine. You swiftly assemble it and lay down prone on the lowered cockpit hatch, bracing your weapon carefully. Your helmet remains on, since the survival rifle comes without a scope of any kind you'll be relying on the optics in the Viola's head.

It's not much, but maybe it'll do.

“Now, sis,” you ponder the situation carefully even as the news crews start to focus in on you. “They should be in through that window... see it along the stairwell? Small and rectangular, curtains drawn?”

I see it. What do you want me to do?

“I want thermographic imaging on that window,” you order. “Pulling the blinds is a classic countersniper tactic, but we've got a lot of imaging power at our disposal here. Let's put it to use.”

“Don't be reckless here,” Artesia cautions. “We're letting the local cops handle it, remember?”

“Just being safe,” you reassure your old friend. “You and I both know if the cops are worth their salt they're doing the same.”
>dice+3d10, Best of three, DC 19, Crit 24

Rolled 10, 3, 2 = 15 (3d10)

>>1700222

Rolled 6, 9, 2 = 17 (3d10)

>>1700222

Rolled 2, 3, 1 = 6 (3d10)

>>1700222

>>1700237
>>1700260
>>1700263
Welp

>>1700267
We got two good rolls this thread, our luck has to end sometime.

>>1700222
Imaging's not getting much

“How 'not much' are we talking about here?” you press your sister.

That's either an absolutely palatial bathroom or it's heavily constructed. Either way I can only get two clear heat signatures. One's faint. No idea who they belong to, but I'm highlighting them on your helmet HUD.

In a moment you have two little crosshairs denoting the center of mass of two people, both of whom are moving slowly back and forth within the room... perhaps pacing. Still not nearly enough to act on, but at least you have two locations and distances to work with, and that's more than you had a few moments ago.

“Okay, we have two heat signatures who we think are bodyguards,” you relate to Artesia. “But it feels like there are several people inside?”

“I counted three bodyguards,” Artesia tells you.

“So did I,” Cima confirms. “So you've got... not enough.”

“Three armed guards, the principle, and two hostages,” you mutter darkly. “And we only think these are the guards we've got.”

You feel obliged at this point to put what you've reasoned into words. “I can't fire.”

For a few minutes there's a long silence, as each of you debates internally what to do. Then, quite abruptly, the decision is taken in part out of your hands.

“I heard a gunshot!” Artesia reports.

>Take what shots you have lined up.
>Hammer the walls, confuse the gunmen without taking any real risks.
>Hold your fire.
>Eye cheat, take a peek at the future

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>>1700306
>>Hammer the walls, confuse the gunmen without taking any real risks.
>Eye cheat, take a peek at the future
SHINY. RED. BUTTON.

>>1700306
>>Eye cheat, take a peek at the future

>>1700306
>>Eye cheat, take a peek at the future

>3d10, DC 16, Crit 19
>best of four

Rolled 4, 9, 4 = 17 (3d10)

>>1700336

Rolled 4, 6, 4 = 14 (3d10)

>>1700336
EYE HAXXX

Rolled 1, 5, 9 = 15 (3d10)

>>1700336

Rolled 8, 10, 6 = 24 (3d10)

bah, so close. Rolling again since I don't think there's a 4th person here.

>>1700355
Ayy!

>>1700336
You pop off your helmet and flip up your eyepatch, carefully keeping your rifle trained on the window as well as you can. And after taking only a single glance into the future, specifically what would happen if you didn't fire at all, you quickly lower your eyepatch again to conserve power.

Your interference isn't needed here. Not anymore.

“He's... recused himself,” you reply, lowering your eyepatch once more. “32 ACP to the palate. Senator Hawke's killed himself.”

“Shit,” Artesia curses loudly.

There goes our lead.

“That could have gone better,” Rossweisse sighs.

>>1700357
...RIP

And that's all for tonight, folks! Archive is up, and thanks for stopping by. Hope you all enjoyed the read, and I hope to see you back Tuesday night for the aftermath.

Now if you'll excuse me I have a date with my pillow, and I'd hate to keep it waiting.

>>1700357
>32 ACP to the palate. Senator Hawke's killed himself.
Damn. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say the possible reprisals from the Vist prompted this reaction.

>>1700362
Thanks for the thread and g'night.

>>1700369
>spoiler
That will of course be on everyone's minds going forward, though there are plenty of reasons why a soon-to-be disgraced politician might take the "coward's way out".

I've had a rough day, so I need to move the continuation back to tomorrow night. I just don't have it in me right now.

Apologies for the delay.

>writing

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644 KB JPG

>>1710053
So Senator Hawke, the man who you've risked your neck for the past few days to gather intelligence on and eventually arrest, has just blown his brains out in a public bathroom near his office. An ignoble end, but one that you can't help thinking suits him. Politicians are rarely saints, but 'ignoble' would be a compliment considering the things Hawke has probably done under the proverbial table. It's not inconceivable that the man's guilty of funding terrorist activities right across the Sol system.

But in the immediate term, you've realized that you're hanging out of a gundam with a sniper rifle right now. In a combat flightsuit. With your helmet off.

And you're surrounded by reporters.

Who, based on the buzz surrounding you, heard what you just said.

In fact they're clamoring over each other to try and get your attention for comments.

… fuck.

>Order them to clear out, this is still an active crime scene.
>Give them a quick statement, then tell them to get out of your way.
>Give them an actual statement, show some transparency.
>Other?

>>1710138
>>Give them an actual statement, show some transparency.

>it'll be a few more minutes to let people come back

>>1710138
>>Give them a quick statement, then tell them to get out of your way.
Nothing explicit or incriminating. Just a little something to tide them over.

>>Other?
Suggest to Artesia if a detailed press briefing can be arranged later on behalf of the media.

Don't usually join in for SoZ, can i get a quick rundown?
Situation seems fucked based on >>1710138

>>1710259
We're investigating the connection between a defunct military research and development company (SNRI) and a corrupt senator (Hawke). And now our best lead, the senator, just killed himself.

We have reason to believe that they're funded or supplied by terrorists masterminded by Jovian.

I could be wrong on the details.

>>1710348
Why not put this jovian fag's head on a pike, then?

>>1710259
Sure. MC has been investigating a series of seemingly-related terrorist incidents on Mars and Luna, and was specifically delving into the late Senator's finances at the request of Artesia som Deikun (a pretty important political figure on Luna and an old acquaintance).

When they tried to confront him with the case they'd built he locked himself in a bathroom with his guards and a few accidental hostages, but eventually offed himself.

Carya was standing outside her cockpit with her helmet off, and reported over her boom mic that she'd seen the Senator's death. As it happens some of the camera crews had the sort of equipment they needed to eavesdrop.

And now we're here.

>>1710359
Fuck it, shit's out in the open anyways, might as well make it public. Better get hold of those guards and hostages.

Well, unless you can convince them to hold off on the story for the sake of not compromising an ongoing investigation, perhaps with promise of a full interview afterwards.
Good luck with that though.

>>1710359
You clear your throat tentatively.

“Alright, so how much did you hear?” you ask, sitting down on the edge of your suit's hatch and leaning on your rifle a little.

The reporters start shouting over each other again until you point to one of them. “You first, go.”

“Can you confirm Senator Hawke has been shot?”

You nod, still listening in through your earpiece for confirmation that the situation inside the building has been resolved. Instead what you hear is a lot of caution, as the late Senator's guards are understandably hesitant to surrender themselves.

“The latest information I have is that Senator Hawk has shot himself, yes,” you reply amid a renewed buzz of activity and camera flashes. “But it's still an active situation, things could change at any time.”

“Yes,” you announce, pointing at another reporter.

“You said he shot himself? What reason would the Senator have to do that?”

“Currently classified by Lunar Intelligence,” you explain. “But I'm sure the details will come out when Intelligence is ready to release it.”

“What's your status out there?” Artesia demands over your earpiece.

“Sorry, the press might've overheard my end of things,” you admit. “I'm answering a few questions, but I'm still on site if you need me.”

“Damn,” Artesia mutters. “Well, let them know we're trying to get the hostages released. And please... for the love of god don't mention my name?”

“Got it,” you nod, turning to the assembled media. “Word from the inside is they're trying to secure release of the hostages now.”

“And what are the chances?” one of the reporters asks.

>Well, their primary is dead. So pretty good, I'd say.
>It's still not certain yet, so I can't comment.
>You know... I need to be over there.
>Other?

>>1710438
>Well, their primary is dead. So pretty good, I'd say.
>Of course, nothing is certain. They could freak out for some reason. Either way, mine is not the word of god, so don't take it as such.

>>1710438
>>It's still not certain yet, so I can't comment.

>>1710438
>>It's still not certain yet, so I can't comment.
>>Other?
"It would be up to the team on site, so give them some room to work here."

>>1710354
My bad, I meant Jovians, in terms of an entire faction. The ones we've mostly encountered are low henchmen that tried to silence one of our sources, so there's not much info extracted from them.

Whoever the big fish is (if there is one, maybe multiple), we still don't know at the moment.

>>1710475
Oh, jovian as in jupiter.
Well, there's a simple fix for not enough info.

>capture grunt
>"Who is your boss"
>capture grunt's boss
>"Who is your boss"
>ect ect ect

All the way up the line.

>>1710438
“Can't comment,” you reply carefully... boy does that ever stir them up.

“Why can't you comment?” one of them demands loudly.

“Because the team inside's still working on it,” you explain calmly. “And I'm not in there with them right now, so it would be deeply irresponsible to say anything.”

“If you're not going to comment...”

“I'm not,” you reiterate. “You'll know the outcome when I do, but until then I'm just gonna say you need to put some faith in the team that's working on this.”

“And who's on that team?” the same reporter continues to press, a blonde-haired woman with a tight ponytail and carefully-applied makeup: a woman clearly doing all the things she thinks would give her a chance to climb up the rungs of the journalistic ladder.

“My own crew is working closely with an agent from Lunar Intelligence,” you explain.

“Which agent?”

“Classified,” you reply with a stern glare.

“Which office?”

“Classified,” you repeat.

“And how did you meet this agent?”

“Friend called in a favor,” you reply. “I think you need to let someone else ask a question, ma'am.”

“You haven't given me an answer yet,” the woman reporter tells you testily. “We don't even know who you are.”

>Name, rank, and unit you serve with.
>Give her (and her viewers) a little of your back history.
>Let her REALLY know who she's dealing with.
>Other?

>>1710663
>My name is Sargent Bumblefuck of the Intergalactic House of Pancakes (IHP), i come in pieces for all mankind.

>>1710686
>>Give her (and her viewers) a little of your back history.
pfft.
Yes.

>>1710663
>>Give her (and her viewers) a little of your back history.

>>1710663
“I take it 'Sergeant Pepper' wouldn't pass muster with you?” you joke. There are a few chuckles at your joke, which you appreciate, since it shows that at least some of the reporters understand how unreasonable the situation is.

“Alright then, strap in,” you tell her, cradling your rifle with a wicked grin. “My name is Carrina Marseille, and in a past life I was nicknamed the 'Black Star of Zeon'. I was an ace Newtype mobile suit pilot, survivor of human experimentation near the end of the war. Then I served in the EFSF during the Delaz Fleet incident, I helped fight Titans alongside the Grim Guard, and now I'm part of the Colony Transit Fleet.”

“You're expecting us to believe you're a Newtype?” the reporter demands.

“Not really,” you shrug. “But it's true.”

“Can you prove it?” she challenges you.

>dice+3d10, best of three, higher is better

Rolled 8, 5, 1 = 14 (3d10)

>>1710816

>>1710836
Ow.

Rolled 3, 4, 5 = 12 (3d10)

>>1710816
>"A bird's about to poop in your shoulder in 3... 2... 1..."

>holding out for #3

Rolled 9, 2, 2 = 13 (3d10)

>>1710816
>>1710916
Welp, might as well. Not confident enough in my re-rolls though.

>>1710916
>>1710916
For the life of you... you can't really figure out a way to prove what a Newtype can do in this situation. It'd have to be something easy to understand for the public, but that would reliably test something only a Newtype could do.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean, why would I even need to at this point? How do you think we move colonies around for lightyears at a time where others can't?”

“The wonders of technology,” the reporter smiles cruelly. Does she really think that Newtypes are some kind of hoax or something? You weren't aware there were people like that still out there, but you guess not everyone's seen direct evidence of what a properly-trained Newtype can do. There are so few of you still.

“Technology tuned to newtype brainwaves,” you sigh. “Look, we're picking nit here. The point is that's who I am: mobile suit pilot, interstellar navigator, investigator.”

You leave out “wife and mother” of course, kind of extraneous detail in this situation.

Let's move on sis, I'm not liking this chick.

“So that's my story,” you sigh. “You got anything in there?”

You can practically hear Artesia's eyes rolling. “No, the guards are starting to panic a bit. They're making it hard on us.”

“How about the relevant files from his office? You secure those yet?”

“We have,” Artesia informs you.

>Then your job here's done. I'd suggest you and I withdraw.
>I'm going to go in and talk to these guys. Maybe get them to stand down.
>I can get in through the window and drop the guards.
>Other?

>>1711048
>>I'm going to go in and talk to these guys. Maybe get them to stand down.
Or get a read on them at least. Anticipate their possible actions so that casualties are limited to just the guards, if it comes to that.

>>1711048
>>I'm going to go in and talk to these guys. Maybe get them to stand down.

>>1711048
“I can probably talk them down,” you offer, lowering your voice a little, “but if things go badly... you and I both know how that ends.”

“Yeah...” Artesia replies, clearly considering the point. “Okay, you have my permission. But if you can, please try to shoot to wound on this one. Too many bodies this morning already.”

“I can only promise to try,” you sigh, standing up on your lowered hatch. “Everyone clear out! I'm relocating!”

“Relocating where?” the loudmouthed reporter demands.

“To where I'm needed...”

With a single vault you maneuver the Viola closer to the Senators' offices, and Catrina extends her hand out towards a window.

I'll keep an eye open out here, sis. You focus on your job.

“Can do,” you nod as she holds her other fist in close for you to bump.

Then you take out your sidearm, put a round into the window's lock mechanism, and force the pane open.

The bathroom is a fair walk down the hallway, which is well-lit and lined on both sides with office doors. Copying rooms, break rooms, secretarial offices, all sorts of ancillary rooms bookended by the senators' offices in the corners where they'd have the best views of the surrounding neighborhood and grounds. Then you find the door in question, a women's toilet. On the other side are two panicking hostages and the jumpy guards holding them there... it's hard to tell who's who, as they're all scared right now.

>Tell them you're with a neutral party, and that you want to discuss terms.
>Tell them you're CTF, here to put an end to this nonsense one way or the other.
>Ask them to let the hostages go at least. They have nothing to do with this.
>Tell them that they have fifteen seconds to make up their minds before you kick the door in, blow their heads off, and walk out with the hostages.
>Other

>>1711208
>>Tell them you're with a neutral party, and that you want to discuss terms.
>>Ask them to let the hostages go at least. They have nothing to do with this.
>>Other
Since their boss bit it, any obligation they have for him is moot at this point.

>>1711226
This is good.
Also, we just fistbumped a Gundam.

>dice+3d10, DC 18, Crit 21
>best of three
This will be the last sequence, I'm winding down.

Rolled 1, 4, 4 = 9 (3d10)

>>1711293

Rolled 2, 2, 9 = 13 (3d10)

>>1711293

Rolled 1, 7, 6 = 14 (3d10)

Rolling again...

Welp.

>>1711293
You crouch low, down to the left side of the doorframe, ready to knock on the door and announce your presence without putting your body in the direct line of a panic-fire response. Then you rap on the door slowly, three times in succession.

The response is a deafening hail of fire that splinters the door and makes you happy you were clever enough to not stand directly in front of it. But the result of that is almost immediate, as armed and armored police officers stream down the halls at the sound of gunfire and force their way past you.

“Wait!” you yelp in surprise as one of the SWAT officers pushes you back into the wall while his teammate kicks the door open.

In a second hail of gunfire it's over.

“Who are you!?” the SWAT officer demands loudly, having seized your sidearm. “What are you doing here?”

There are so many answers that partially form in your mind in that instant, ranging from pure anger to dismissal.

“They were terrified,” you growl, “panicking, disoriented. They weren't a threat to me.”

“That's not an answer,” the officer replies, pushing you roughly down the hallway. “But there's plenty of time for that.”

>>1711473
Alright, I'm dead tired. Thanks for coming back, hope you enjoyed the read!

Next episode: Carrina finally loses her shit.

>>1711481
>Next episode: Carrina finally loses her shit.
Yeah, that was quite a mess of things.