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File: SoZAphelion_Colony_Block.jpg (464 KB, 3023x2143)
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You are Captain Carya Marseille-O'Hara, and you've just been in a car accident.

Well, to be more precise you got into a running gun battle with two other cars loaded with heavily-armed shooters, crashing several times at lower speed and basically destroying your own vehicle's bodywork before careening it off an elevated highway. Then it crashed, landing in the hands of Catrina's mentally-piloted mobile suit which whisked you clear of the veritable war zone you've left in your wake.

You wipe away a little blood from your nose and stretch, testing all your limbs. A breath fills your lungs with a sharp pain, suggesting that one or two of the bullets that peppered your car found their mark and flattened against your lightweight armor vest. Other than your face there's no blood to be found, so clearly none of those shots penetrated.

“That's good at least,” you grumble, pulling a lever to lean your seat back for the ride. The engine's already off, probably dead, and until you get well clear of the area it's best to just stay put.

No wounds to worry about?

“Nothing serious,” you reply calmly. “Maybe a cracked rib or two from the rounds striking my plates.”

Sounds like you need a break.

“I've needed a break for the last five years.”

Well that's not going to happen, but at least you can relax until we get back to the pressure gate.

It takes a few minutes for the Viola to reach the pressure gate, its powerful thrusters combining with the lighter lunar gravity to let Catrina stay in the air the whole way. She sets the machine down outside the locks, and places your ruined car on a nearby concrete pad with a slight jolt.

“Alright, let's see...” you mutter, vaguely aware of the stares the scene is attracting. You unbuckle your seatbelt and try the door handle, which seems to be broken.

“The mechanism's not working,” you announce, shimmying your way out of the shattered windscreen and rolling onto the bullet-scarred hood. “There we go.”

So what should we do about the lemon?

“Take it with,” you suggest, stepping off the car's hood and into Viola's palm. “That's material evidence now.”

Speaking of evidence...
>1/2
>>
>>1563218
“It's fine,” you reply.

Good, sure would suck if we lost what we went out for.

You leave the surprised workers behind, settling into Viola's cockpit and closing the hatch behind you. The seat's deliberately been designed to be comfortable with body armor on, so you have no issues strapping yourself in, and the internal screens are already active thanks to Catrina's presence in the system so there's not even any boot-up time.

“This is Captain Marseille-O'Hara,” you report to the gate operator, “CTF field officer. Requesting to cycle the gate so I can get back aboard my mothership.”

“This is gate operations Von Braun,” a male voice responds, “our records suggest you passed through the gate just a few minutes ago, may we inquire as to your business?”

“Rescue mission,” you reply. “I was taking heavy fire from two unmarked cars.”

There are a few moments of quiet before the operator gets back to you. “Well, you've made the news. Five suspected shooters dead, a few civilians checked into the hospital with non life-threatening wounds.”

“I'm surprised there were no civilian fatalities,” you admit. “Those guys were spraying pretty indiscriminately.”

“All the same, you're wanted for questioning,” the operator tells you.

Oh for fuck's sake.
“Oh for the love of...” you grumble, managing to quickly rein in your temper.

>Then they can meet me aboard the Sericea. She's docked in berth B-17.
>I'll comply, but I'm not going back into the city after what happened.
>Contact miss Artesia Som Deikun, she'll provide appropriate documentation.
>Other?
>>
>>1563223
>Then they can meet me aboard the Sericea. She's docked in berth B-17.
>>
>>1563223
>>Then they can meet me aboard the Sericea. She's docked in berth B-17.
>>
Normally I'd give it a few more minutes but it seems this is what we're doing.

>Persuade (write-ins accepted)
>Threaten (write-ins accepted)
>>
>>1563257
>Persuade (write-ins accepted)
I've just woke up, so I've got nothing
>>
>>1563223
>Then they can meet me aboard the Sericea. She's docked in berth B-17.
>>
Alright, persuading it is.
>3d10, best of three
>Dc 19, Crit 22
>>
Rolled 8, 1, 8 = 17 (3d10)

>>1563277
welp
>>
Rolled 6, 5, 3 = 14 (3d10)

>>1563257
Just caught up.

>>Persuade (write-ins accepted)
"Just a reminder that what happened is also part of an ongoing investigation. There will be a lot of questions that I won't be able to answer as a matter of security and to prevent any suspects from being tipped off."

Though judging from the instantaneous, hostile response, tipped off is quite an understatement.

>>1563277
Might as well roll too.
>>
Rolled 4, 3, 4 = 11 (3d10)

>>1563277
>>
Rolled 7, 2, 6 = 15 (3d10)

>>1563277
>>
Oh hey, these rolls. Glad there's been a return to form, Carrina can't have nice things.
>>
>>1563283
You actually said some of the right words to earn a reduced DC, so a 17 is borderline passing.
>writing
>>
>>1563293
“Look,” you insist, “I was out on an official investigation, with a warrant and everything, and on the way back we were jumped. So far as I'm concerned the sooner I'm back inside our own security cordon the better for everyone involved.”

“You say this was official?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you insist. “I don't want the details getting around at all or else some of our other possible informants might bolt. This is what happened even when there wasn't a leak.”

“I guess that makes sense,” the operator admits, “and if your version of events is correct I have no reason to hold you...”

“So do you think I'm telling you the truth?” you press.

After a few moments you get your response as the inner gate doors slowly slide open. “I believe you... but the cops are still going to be asking questions.”

“That's their job,” you agree. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Just a reminder, please observe all signals while the locks are in operation,” he tells you as you guide Viola through the gate.

After a few moments of pumping the air out of the lock until your sensors indicate a vacuum, then a red light flashes silently as the outer gate slides open.

“Viola, moving out.”

The port isn't particularly busy, meaning it's a simple matter to reach the Sericea where the ship's launch deck is already open for you. You set the riddled car down on the elevator as the doors close behind you and air is pumped into the compartment.

“Welcome back aboard!” you hear Rossweisse greet you as you secure your mobile suit and the leaking pile of junk that's going to serve as evidence in a few minutes. “Lots of police activity.”

“Yeah they're coming for me I bet,” you admit.
>1/2
>>
>>1563331
A few minutes later two things happen about the same time. First is a press conference called by none other than Senator Hawke, which he mostly uses to rail against your “criminal recklessness” that put several people in the hospital. While you're watching this play out, you get a call from the lower decks that there are about a half-dozen cops and investigators at the terminal's airlock gate arguing with your Marines, who have told them that they don't have authorization to force their way aboard Sericea.

>Head down with Rossweisse and meet the cops personally.
>Allow the cops aboard and meet them at the airlock.
>Tell the Marines to form a detail to guide them to the hangar.
>Tell the Marines to take them to a stateroom to give a statement.
>Other?
>>
>>1563342
>Tell the Marines to form a detail to guide them to the hangar.
>>
>>1563342
>>Tell the Marines to form a detail to guide them to the hangar.
>>
>>1563342
>>Tell the Marines to take them to a stateroom to give a statement.
Neutral ground. Well, about as neutral as can be drummed up in here anyway. Also, less eavesdropping. I hope anyway.
>>
>>1563342
>>Tell the Marines to take them to a stateroom to give a statement.
>>
>will give it a few minutes
>if no tiebreaker, will flip a coin
>>
>>1563376
I hope its a real coin and not /tg/dice...
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>1563376
>1: Hangar
>2: Stateroom
>>
>>1563396
You hit a button on your station and call the Marine guards. “This is Captain Marseille, put a few guards on the cops and escort them to stateroom number three. Maintain as heavy a guard on the terminal as possible.”

“Acknowledged,” the NCO in charge of the airlock detail reports. “You two, take these guys...”

“Let's go,” you suggest, gesturing to Rossweisse who follows suit.

The stateroom door is flanked by two armed Marines, who salute when they see you, and one then opens the door for you.

“I'm Captain Marseille-O'Hara, this is my partner Captain Bell,” you announce, taking a seat across from the investigators next to Rossweisse. There are a few extra chairs pushed up against the walls where the beat cops can sit to listen in on the meeting.

“So you're the nutjob who got in a shooting match on one of our highways?” the man who seems like the lead investigator grumbles. “So you and I are gonna have a chat.”

“Cut the suave investigator act,” you retort. “You're shit at it. Just get to your questions so I can get on to my own investigations.”

“Let's get this straight, I'm the one in charge here,” the man insists angrily, “and you're in big trouble missy.”

“Missy?” you repeat. “Let's get this straight, you're here because I'm allowing it. But my good faith only extends so far, so if you wanna do this we're following our rules.”

“Otherwise I'm throwing you off this ship and you get nothing. Got it?”

The investigator stares at you, as if he's trying to get you to blink. Your one eye stares back at him, cold and focused, refusing to yield even this trivial point.

He sighs. “So what were you doing out in the city?”

>Show him the warrant.
>Tell him you were on a classified investigation.
>Tell him you were investigating Senator Hawke's finances.
>Other?
>>
>>1563433
>>Show him the warrant.
>>
>>1563433
>Show him the warrant.
>Other?
Don't their highways have any camera coverage?
Point out that it should show that we weren't the ones that initiated aggressive actions resulting in, well, a clusterfuck seems an apt description.
>>
>>1563433
>Show him the warrant.
>>
>>1563469
This is good too
>>
>writing
>no roll required
>>
>>1563493
Without saying a word, at least not at first, you retrieve the warrant and set it down on the table in front of the head investigator. He picks it up and reads it over carefully with a frown.

“This is more vector than text,” he exaggerates, but he has a point. A lot of the more sensitive details have been redacted. “What is this, a warrant?”

“That's right,” you nod. “I was pursuing data related to a very sensitive anti-terror investigation, and my car was jumped on the way back to the spaceport.”

“Who opened fire first?” he demands.

“One of them got the first shot off,” you recall, the details still a little fuzzy. “Went through my windscreen, which was already cracked from the crash.”

“They rammed you?”

You nod affirmative. “That's right. They'd been following me from the address I visited, turned off the highway to follow me when I did it abruptly, and when I tried to double back they came out of an alley and hit my car right behind the rear wheels. Spun me around, then they tried to open fire.”

“And all that nonsense on the road...”

“Was me trying not to get riddled,” you explain. “Some point along the way I got hit at least once, but I was wearing a ballistic plate.”

“And you fired back?” he presses.

You nod again. “All it takes is one lucky shot to make armor a moot point, and even the model I was wearing is only good for a couple of repeated hits.”

“What sort of weapon were you carrying?”

“A 5.7mm pistol,” you explain, “the same one on my person right now. I had subsonic rounds loaded, and a magazine of duty load ready.”

“Both of those are restricted on Luna...”

“To military use only,” you nod, “we're aware. We're also military personnel conducting operations with direct oversight, so those restrictions aren't applicable.”

“So you say...” the investigator grumbles, clearly frustrated that he couldn't make that accusation stick.
>1/2
>>
>>1563524
“Yes,” you nod. “I literally just said that.”

“Then you headed back onto the highway while under fire?” the investigator demands. “That's totally reckless.”

“And staying to fight would have been suicide,” you counter. “Also, don't blame me. Go blame the guys who attacked me out of nowhere, assuming you caught them?”

“They're still at large,” the investigator admits, “but that's beside the point. What could possibly be so important as to put civilians at risk?”

>”I'm not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation to anyone without clearance.”
>I'm breaking up a terrorist organization one step at a time. It's been messy at every step.
>A certain politician on Luna is under investigation, which explains this attempted hit.
>Senator Hawke's financial dealings with known terrorist groups, that's what.
>Other?
>>
>>1563538
>>”I'm not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation to anyone without clearance.”
>>
>>1563538
>>”I'm not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation to anyone without clearance.”
>Other?
"It was not my intention to put civilians in harms way. I made the decision to end the fight as quick as possible under the circumstances so as not to endanger them further."
>>
>>1563538
>>”I'm not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation to anyone without clearance.”
>>
>>1563577
“I'm not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation with anyone who doesn't have proper clearance,” you reply, almost in rote memorization.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” the investigator demands.

“It means you don't have security clearance,” you explain patiently, “so I can't share the details with you. Look, I know how you feel about this and honestly I get that way sometimes myself.”

“But this stuff is very sensitive, and if word gets out what I'm doing it puts me and my whole crew at greater risk. So even if I could tell you I wouldn't.”

“And it's my job to get to the bottom of this,” he shoots back. “I'm not appreciating the amount of obstruction I'm getting here.”

“It's not obstruction,” you sigh deeply. “It's classified information. You wouldn't tell me if I just strolled in and started asking about one of your ongoing investigations, and if you haven't got the security clearance and a warrant there are certain things I know that you're not entitled to know and that quite frankly it would be dangerous for you to know.”

“Can you give me anything to work with?” the man demands indignantly.

“I've given you my statement, if there's anything recorded by traffic cams or cell phones you've got that, you know that my weapon was the only 5.7 involved so you can tell who was responsible for the civilian casualties,” you reply, listing all of the things that he has access to which all clear you from any responsibility. “You've seen my warrant, you know I was out there as part of a classified investigation. What else do you need?”

“More proof,” he replies succinctly.

>No, you don't. And this interview is over.
>I have my car. You can examine the damage.
>We have telemetry, from my car and from Sericea's sensors.
>Other?
>>
>>1563614
>>I have my car. You can examine the damage.
>>We have telemetry, from my car and from Sericea's sensors.
>>
>>1563614
>>I have my car. You can examine the damage.
>>We have telemetry, from my car and from Sericea's sensors.
>>
>>1563614
>>We have telemetry, from my car and from Sericea's sensors.
>>I have my car. You can examine the damage.
Kinda worried that any built-in navigation devices might be used to trace back to the approximate meeting place with the bookie. And tampering with said device wouldn't really lend any goodwill here, so that's out.

I guess it's a risk that'll have to be taken, and that the bookie is smart enough to relocate afterwards asap.

Or we could not care either way, he's been in business long enough to have a contingency when cops come knocking.
>>
>also, writing
>>
>>1563695
“We do have some telemetry that could corroborate my statements,” you reply carefully. “We'll have to edit it to protect the identity of our source, but we can get you all the data from where I noticed I was being tailed to the point where I ramped off the highway.”

“What sort of telemetry?”

“Flight logs, sensor data from Sericea, phone records, and UGPS data from the car's navigation system,” you clarify. “If you're interested.”

“Then let's see what you've got,” the investigator replies, rising to his feet.

“Captain Bell,” you ask, addressing your young and thus far silent partner. “Would you mind collating Sericea's data? I'll recover the data from the car and Catrina will handle Viola's flight logs.”

“Understood,” Rossweisse nods curtly, rising and hastily excusing herself.

“She seems a bit flighty,” the investigator muses.

“Bring it up again and see what happens,” you snap, instinctively rising to Rossweisse's defense.

“Jeez, okay,” the investigator raises his hands. “Touchy subject.”

You lead the group down to the hangar, where the cops seem taken aback at the size of the space as the Marines take up positions on either side of the door.

“As you can see this is the kinda body damage that's not gonna buff out,” you joke. “Door's mechanisms are broken, gimme a second.”

You draw your sidearm and put a quick series of rounds into the door right around where its latch is located, and yank it open.

“There we go.”

A few of the technicians glance in your direction while you holster your pistol. “Tech chief! Bring over a laptop.”

After a few minutes of trying to recover the data, you learn that even if you wanted to sell out the bookie you couldn't: that part of the recorded data is corrupt. But there's still enough critical data to show your initial conflict, including the sudden shock of having been rammed.

“And there you are,” you declare, handing an SD card to the investigating team.
>1/2
>>
>>1563731
“Some of the data may look wrong,” you explain carefully, “but that's because I spent a bit of that time driving backwards.”

“You're serious, aren't you?” the secondary investigator asks.

You nod. “Sure am. I'm a test pilot by choice, nobody gets to tell me what I can and can't make a vehicle do.”

“And you did that while shooting over the dash?” the principle asks incredulously.

“Um... mobile suit pilot?” you reiterate. “This sort of thing's not even hard for me, though I'll admit I was in peak form today.”

“Scary,” one of the cops muses.

I've copied the data and scrubbed anything sensitive. No details of our recording systems themselves are included either.

“Good,” you reply, “get a technician to bring me the datachip.”

“Excuse me?” the principle investigator asks.

“Not you,” you shake your head as a tech hops into your cockpit and retrieves a data storage card to bring to you.

“And this is data from my mobile suit,” you explain. “Anything sensitive has been omitted, such as technical specifications that could identify what model instruments we use.”

A few minutes later Rossweisse joins you, and hands off a data chip with some of Sericea's long range sensor data and the records of your call for assistance.

>Now get off our ship before I kick you off.
>I need you all to sign NDA documents. You're not to speak of anything you saw here.
>I need something from you: help in safely serving my second warrant.
>Other?
>>
>>1563781
>>I need you all to sign NDA documents. You're not to speak of anything you saw here.
>>I need something from you: help in safely serving my second warrant.
>>
>>1563781
>>I need you all to sign NDA documents. You're not to speak of anything you saw here.
>>I need something from you: help in safely serving my second warrant.
>>
>>1563781
>>I need you all to sign NDA documents. You're not to speak of anything you saw here.
>>I need something from you: help in safely serving my second warrant.
Might as well avoid ending up inadvertently impeding one another at least.
>>
>>1563781
>I need you all to sign NDA documents. You're not to speak of anything you saw here.
>>
>>1563781
“Before we kick you off the ship we've got something for you,” you scowl. “They're non-disclosure agreements.”

“You can't be serious.”

“Deadly serious,” you confirm. “I don't want any of you breathing a word about any of the things you've seen while you've been aboard. Even the details that look totally innocuous are to be considered classified top secret.”

“You're really serious...”

“Now then, if you'll step this way...”

Your “guests” follow patiently, and end up signing the ten-page-long agreements. You make a few copies for the sake of maintaining your own records, then pass them off to an orderly. ALICE saves the digital copies away to Sericea's massive computer banks as well, but stops short of sending them along to Nagato at your request. No sense taking the risk that this information could be intercepted somehow, especially since these cops have nothing to do with the situation.

Although...

“One more thing,” you muse.

“Oh man, here it comes...”

“We have one more warrant to serve,” you explain.

>I just want to make sure we stay out of each others' way.
>I'd like police escort, given the current situation.
>Can you give distant cover in case something goes wrong?
>Other?
>>
>>1563907
>>I just want to make sure we stay out of each others' way.
>Can you give distant cover in case something goes wrong?
>>
>>1563907
>>I just want to make sure we stay out of each others' way.
>>
>>1563907
>I just want to make sure we stay out of each others' way.
>>
>>1563907
>I just want to make sure we stay out of each others' way.
Don't want the recipient to get too spooked, though I get the feeling it wouldn't really stop the investigators from attempting to shadow Carya unobtrusively anyway.
>>
“... I just want us to stay out of each others' way.”

“What the hell does that mean?” the lead investigator asks indignantly. “You mean to say you think we'd get in your way?”

“I've lived through more battles than you can name,” you reply, words that you suspect aren't an exaggeration in the slightest. “I have every possible advantage in terms of training, experience, and... other abilities. The sorts of things you'd probably write off as impossible are my day to day business.”

“So you are saying we'd get in the way.”

“Exactly,” you nod. “At this point even most newtypes would struggle to keep up, and I can promise you that the sorta guy I'm going after would bolt the second he saw a cop uniform.”

“And what's this guy's name?”

>Tell him.
>Withhold.
>>
>>1563997
>>Withhold.
>>
>>1563997
Can't take any chances, chief.

>>Withhold.
>>
>>1563997
>>Withhold.
>>
>>1563997
“Can't say,” you reply carefully, looking down at your pocket where the second warrant is sitting. The name of course is Nicky Crespo... a notorious mob consigliere. “It's part of an ongoing investigation... and to be honest you wouldn't like it.”

“Well then, I guess that's that,” the investigator grumbles. “Here I was gonna try playing nice.”

“It's for the best,” you reply. “Now I think we've all got work we need to be doing.”

After the cops have been seen out of the Sericea's airlock by your Marine unit, Rossweisse approaches you.

“So, a mob consigliere?” she asks with an amused look. “How do we go about this one?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “But apparently the meeting location is a mob-affiliated Italian place.”

“Go figure...”
>>
>>1564045
And on that note, that's the evening's entertainment! Archive is up, and thanks for showing up. Hope you enjoyed despite the more subdued pace compared to last weekend.

Next weekend: leave the gun, take the cannoli.
>>
>>1564058
>Next weekend: leave the gun, take the cannoli.
If CC doesn't reference The Godfather, I'll be sad, King.
>>
>>1564045
>mob-affiliated Italian place
Hmm, now this got me thinking whether that one contact Dom got info from in the previous quest will turn up.

Vinnie? Freddie? I forget. I only recall something about pizza.

>>1564058
Thanks for the thread run.

>>1564064
I'm expecting Italian finger gestures. You know the one.
>>
>>1564077
I think we all know the one.




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