Vice: 2120 (IC)

[Imperialisium]

OOC

September 14th, 2120
Sector 13, Zone L
Old Oakland Marshalling Yard
21:45 Hours

"Yuh, got the rocks, chief?" The sound of nostrils clearing as a quartet of figures stood in the deeper shadow of an old run down freight train yard. Long since incorporated as one of many stops adjacent to the Old Oakland Mag-Lev line running North-South through the Sector. The lapping of water to the West thrushing amid the rocks and concrete containment walls formed a moving mass of surface punctuated by the tops of half drowned towers. Remnants of the old districts of Oakland that had flooded when the polar ice caps first melted and Sea level rose over fifty meters. The man who initially spoke, gruff with long dreadlocks and a short rough black beard looked at his gloomy opposite from dark brown eyes. His light chocolate skin rough and clear signs of blue collar work on his hands, while muscles from either bodybuilding or hard labor showed from under patched denim overalls and jacket. His compatriot was similar if slight of build and puffed on a cheap cigarette of vat-grown tobacco.

Hair cropped short and pox scars on fair cheeks with slight blond stubble under his chin. His wife beater get up of white tank top and shorts finished the ensemble via dirty once-white-sneakers. Their opposites were pair of Asian men who wore leather jackets and riding slacks. Behind them a pair of motor-bikes from Harley-Kawasaki rested on polished silver kick stands. The desolate drab buildings around them full of smashed windows and detritus strewn doorways contrasted with the latter two's get up almost to a tee.

The Asian male on the right spoke up in reply, "Yeah, we got your dollar-bags, chill." Nodding to his comrade the Asian male on the left produced two small pouches containing clear synth-crack rocks bearing a slight rainbow glitter. C-Star, that's what the street called it. Lab synthesized crack cocaine infused with trace amounts of a home made LSD formula. Producing an extremely intense high, feelings of euphoria for an entire day with one hit, and very, very, addicting. A dollar-bag containing several rocks would last an addict a week as one intended. From their the price increased per rock.

The first pair produced a couple of Dollars as they readied to make the exchange, when the caucasian male to the right of the man with dreadlocks suddenly asked a question, "You guys carrying any Molly, good ole' shit, lookin to hit up a block party and get some of that sweet sweet poon." Dreadlocks chuckled and the Asian male holding the bags smiled, "We might. Not cheap though, fifty dollah's a pop."

"Fifty, shied, man. Better be so real shit. Not some of that fake ass diluted crap the Twenty-One Hundred Blues been sellin'."

"We're not the Twenty-One Hundred Blues friend." responded the Caucasian males counterpart.

The other Asian male shifted on his feet, "Look, we got a few hits of the real shit. Goin' to have to meet tomorrow for mo-, oh fuck!"

Blazing sirens as red, white, and blue lights lit up the dark mustering yard. The throaty thrum of a Grav-bike's repulsor field rising loudly as an armored figure sat on top of the flying cousin of the Asian males own motorcycles. A booming female voice assisted by a built in communication system in the Grav-bike blared. This is the law! Stay where you are with your hands up!

The Asian male carrying the dollar-bags dropped them as he sprinted off towards the bikes. Crack of a gunshot and the man bit the asphalt hard. Face first and rolling onto his side as he screamed in agony from a destroyed right kneecap. The bullet having shorn through the tendons to crack the knee cap and tumble out of an exit wound to the side. The Grav Bike touched pavement and the armored figure was already advancing, siren killed, backlit by the flashing lights mounted to the front and rear of the Grav-bike.

The other Asian male reached into his waistband before being pitched on his back by another gunshot. Red slowly expanding around his skull. The other two males backed away quickly. The Caucasian male tripping over a rock to land up against the mustering yard's pocked red brick wall. The advancing figure fully materializing into view, presaged by a pair of malevolent red-orange eyes staring unblinking from an angular full face helmet. The man with the dreadlocks raised his hands over his heads.

"Judge, we, we don't know these guys, its not what it looks like!" The red eyes moved with the aim of the fire arm clutched in an armored fist. "Citizen, Rodney Stallen, 37 from Mega-Block 144, Crisp Pines. You're under arrest for intent to buy narcotics as per Pacifica Penal Code 26/2 Subsection B, on the purchase of Illicit Drugs."

The Caucasian male, eyes wide with shock, propped himself up on his shoulder with arms out in front of him. The malevolent eyes looked over at him briefly, "Same for you, Cory Stackhouse, 35, also from Crisp Pines. Your sentences are a mandatory ten years in an Iso-Cell."

"C-come on Judge, it was a dollar-bag!"

"You said it's not what it looks like?" responded the helmeted figure of a Pacifica Inspector. The name: ZVEZDA, in raised relief on a golden badge over a stylized bronze eagle, while INSPECTORATE ran across the top of the gold badge inset into the left chest plate of the Inspector's body armor. The response, almost comedic in timing, caught both men aback as they glanced at each other. The man with the dreadlocks began to speak again, but more calmly, "They're friends of friends, we were going to a party, they brought that-,"

"Thought you didn't know them? Storytelling isn't your strong suit Rodney. Unless you go to abandon lots to meet friends of friends, whom you've never met before, frequently which is definitely abnormal. Especially, friends of friends who are Triad members. Who just so happened to bring the drug of choice for two felons with a long rap-sheet of drug possession. Sound about right?" Her words were cold, and that wasn't due to the voice box built into the Inspector's helmet either. Raising her opposing wrist she made to swipe a digit across a small polymer screen which lit up green. As she did so the man with the dread locks grunted as he swung his arms out. A quarter of blades springing from his fore arms. Mantis Blades. Popularized in the 2070's and 2080's due to earlier 21st century pop culture.

The Inspector side stepped, grabbed one of the man's arms and brought an armored knee cap up swiftly. Breaking his elbow. The man screamed, pitch rising as he was suddenly grasped by his own dreadlocks and hauled up. Not to face the Inspector, but away, and there the Caucasian man fumbled to take the safety off a small short nose pistol. One of those cheap cobbled together pieces from various spare parts by undercity gunsmiths.

"Drop the weapon, citizen!" said the Inspector quickly, clearly, and decisively as her own side arm came to a trained rest. The man with dreadlocks struggling with futility as he jerked and janked within the confines of her iron clad restraint. The Caucasian man finally thumbed the safety and made to raise it. His left eye socket burst in a spurt of gore as a third round exited the Inspector's Lawman. The last man, with the mantis claws and dread locks, began to mutter something akin to a prayer under his breath. When suddenly the iron grip released and he was pushed away.

"In addition to your previous charge, you're now charged with the attempted murder of an Inspector. What is your defense, citizen?" stated the Inspector matter-of-fact.

"I-Please, please!"

"Defense noted." Crack-thud.

Heavy armored footfalls sounded lowly on the pavement as the Inspector moved over to the first man shot. The Asian male in an almost delirious calm from blood loss. An expanding pool of red spreading from his ruined leg. The pair of malevolent red-orange eyes resting upon him. Lowering to crouch beside him. "If you answer my questions I can promise you chance of parole after five years in an Iso-Cell. How do you plead?"

"Ambulance, Ju-j-Inspector I-," mumbled the man as his grip slackened around his knee. His left arm rising up towards a pocket. The Lawman rising to aim at the side of the man's head as from the pocket emerged a knife, the Triad member released a yell his body with all remaining energy twisted to offer one good stab at his killer. His yell turning to a gasp as an armored hand grabbed his wrist. His strength ebbing he dropped the knife almost instantly. The Inspector rose to her feet and pointed her Lawman at the man's skull. His eyes fading away as his last breathe exited his lips. The pool of red almost touching the boots of Inspector Zvezda. Who now spoke into a risen vambrace still glowing with a green-lit stripe.

"Inspector Zvezda. Requesting meat-wagon to my position. Four bodies for recycling and narcotic retrieval."

The chirp of a woman's voice materializing along the airwaves a couple seconds later, <<Copy that Inspector Zvezda, meat-wagon inbound for four, and narcotic retrieval, to your marked position. Over.>>

Letting her wrist drop Inspector Zvezda moved over and crouched near the dropped dollar-bags. Picking one up gingerly she looked at them from behind her helmet's face mask.

September 15th, 2120
Over Sector 13
0635 Hours

The thrum of synth-bio fuel powered engine turbines filled the spartan cargo bay interior of the small armored Judicial transport craft. The Arbitrator pilot, wearing an Arbitrator pilot's trademark black jumpsuit and helmet, at the controls as the craft yawned ever so slightly on a course adjustment. The massive urban sprawl, of which Sector 13 was only a small part of, was spread out under and before them as the craft powered on at 25,000 feet and slowly dropping.

<<This is Transport flight 2-1-1. We're on course for approach to Precinct 13. Request clearance to touch down?">> said the pilot into the inbuilt communications suite of his helmet. The response was clearly in the affirmative as the pilot nodded his head up and down before beginning his standard end flight checklist. Behind him, standing, was another Arbitrator in a black jumpsuit and helmet. Though the figure cut by the second was clearly feminine. Turning around the Arbitrator aircrew woman faced perpendicular to the people sitting before her, buckled into crash webbing, their white uniforms crisp and cleanly pressed. Gold badges pinned to their left breast flaps bearing their names. Freshly graduated trainees from the Academy of Law.

The Arbitrator aircrew woman raised a hand extending all five fingers the full length of their digits, "Touch down in 15!"

The trainees had been in transit for the past three hours and those who could caught up on sleep in the cargo bay of the transport aircraft.

September 15th, 2120
Precinct 13
0640 Hours

A lone woman, muscled but well proportioned, complete with striking features of clearly slavic stock zipped up a black body glove. Cinching and pulling on parts of body armor. Making sure hard plates were properly settled and the synth-skin outer glove of her suit properly meshed with the thermal layer of her under-glove. A helmet rested on a locker shelf before her as she glanced at the small mirror in the interior door of the locker. A scowl on her lips as she took the helmet and placed it over her head. Letting the face mask retract to show her mouth and lower face. For their was no reason to have the face plate fully extended currently. The intercom of the locker room sounded, "Inspector Zvezda, High Inspector Volt requests your presence on the main landing platform."

Picking out one final object from the locker. A side arm, Zvezda looked at the display as it read her bio-metrics, flashing from orange to green quickly. Holstering her side arm, the iconic Mark III Lawman, Inspector Zvezda closed the locker abruptly as she left the locker room.

Moving from the locker room and into a wide hall were administrative, support, Arbitrator, and Inspectorate personnel moved about as the first shift replaced the third. Zvezda moved along until she reached a lift. Moving to take position between an Arbitrator and a Clerk. The Arbitrator gave Zvezda a quick salute before returning to ease. Zvezda returned the gesture as she took up her position. The Clerk, a small statured young man with spectacles bridging his nose, his brown eyes and plain face attempting to hide under short brown hair. Zvezda turned her head slowly to him and the man averted his gaze further.

"Top floor, if you please."

The man, clearly nervous, jolted at the sight of the push-button pad being next to him. As if he'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, uh, sorry sir, I mean mam'." Stabbing a finger to select the top floor. The lift rose smoothly as the sensation of lift took hold. Only pausing before the top floor to allow both the Arbitrator and Clerk out on level 61. Zvezda rolled her head on her shoulders as the lift climbed the last few floors before the light chimed: 65. The gunmetal gray doors slid open on well maintained hinges. Inspector Zvezda striding out and up a short staircase to the right until she was on a landing pad large enough to accommodate a pair a small transport plane or a pair of attack gunships.

High Inspector Volt, forty-three years of age, stood with hands clasped behind her back. A few strands of gray hair breaking up the course blackness growing from her scalp. Chocolate skin glistening in the orange glow of the morning Sun. Her body half rotating as she twisted her torso to put eyes on Zvezda.

"Inspector."

"High Inspector."

"We have new trainees."

"Must be sneaky."

Volt smirked as Zvezda pulled up beside her. Returning her gaze forward to the empty landing pad. "Fresh from the Academy. Some promising prospects, others...we'll see. Their files," said Volt as she raised a small data-slate which Zvezda took and began to look through with motions of her index finger. The scowl on her exposed lower face not shifting as she looked at the trainee files one by one.

"You want me to conduct final assessment on all of them? Today?" responded Zvezda with a slight turn of the head.

"Yes."

Zvezda didn't respond and merely handed the data-slate back after a few more minutes of browsing through their files.

Over Sector 13
0641 Hours

"Alright, all passengers make ready for final approach, welcome to Sector 13, the Oak Town, highest crime rate in all the Center Region," said the pilot into his helmet after flipping on the cargo-bay comms. The sarcastic tone of his voice carrying into the cargo-bay and to the ears of the Inspectorate trainees seated therein. The pilot continued, "If you look to our right we're just over the wire of the Precinct grounds. Bustling with activity as always."

Indeed, out the small windows the trainees could make out the imposing squat building of the Sector Precinct and its attendant grounds and facilities. Along the grounds personnel walked. A formation of Arbitrators in work out gear jogged behind their officer. Others conducted firing drills at a range. The white armored forms of Arbitrators patrolled the Precinct perimeter and watched from guard towers. A convoy of six APCs and a tank moved out from the South Gate on patrol. While another foot patrol of Arbitrators was returning via the North Gate. It looked more like an occupation army garrison than a Law Enforcement building. The transport began to slow rapidly and list.

Yawning in a wide arc the transport plane circled and the clunk of machinery could be heard as its engines rotated. The transport was VTOL capable and began to lower itself smoothly onto the top of the Precinct building on one of two landing pads.

"Passengers please remain buckled until the light turns green." remarked the pilot as the craft gave a slight jolt of touch down. The air crew woman marched down the cargo bay and stood next to the door as the light next to it went from red to green. A hiss of hydraulics and the door began to lower with the figures of an imperious black woman and an armored Inspector in armor not seen in any Academy schematic or training manuals awaited them.

"You're go for disembark!" shouted the aircrew woman as she waved the freshly graduated Inspectors off the transport.

[Smenovekhovtia]

Michael Fitzgerald

I hate white

This was Michael Fitzgerald's only thought as he sat securely buckled to the chairs of the craft. The restrictive uniform pushing against his skin with the strength of a South American snake. He looked around at the other recruits and came to the speedy conclusion that he was in the presense of meat bags and hooligans. Men and women who, to him, were to wretched to have recieved an education that didnt insult the millenniums of human evolution that lead to the super computer within their own skulls. He, in his own words, was different. He was a man that understood the complexities of biological, chemical, and mechanized processes. A man who saw the imperfection of human and which to perfect it through science. He, in short, believed himself to be his own god.

It was no doubt that the judiciary knew everything about his history. They most definitely knew him as a forgotten son of the Fitzgerald crime syndicate and as such a possible asset in dismantling the criminal empire once and for all. The Fitzgerald Syndicate operated mainly within illegal weapons trading, human trafficking, and hit man services. Michael, seeing the death of his own father a result of his involvment within the family business, left the family and moved to persue his talents within the field of law enforcement. He didnt fit in much at all with the other recruits but he knew that the assets of the state would allow him to not only avenge his fathers death but also expand his own personal ideological goals.

The most surface level difference from Michael and the other recruits was within the direct eyeshot of the beholder. His entire lower face had been reconstructed out of steal, aluminium, and circuitry. This was done following an accident whilst exploring the nature of explosive comounds that left his lower face mangled. His voice box was also replaced with an electric one wireless connected to his brain through a chip implant. This new voice box would allow him to speak in a robotic monotone voice that removed much of his own humanity in a way. The only part of his face still capable of showing real emotion were his ocean blue eyes that pierced anyone who looked at him.

As the ship came to a landing, Michael unstrapped the restraints around him and delicately loosened the collar of his white uniform. He shuffled his way out of the transport and stared forward at the man and woman. He would study their faces before turning to the other recruits as they came off the ship.

Meat heads
Hooligans
Criminals
Law
Order
Humanity
Machinery
Chemistry

These were his only thoughts as he stood at attention.

[Parcia]

Mikhail "Pasha" Jadranko

Two hundred seventy rounds of reproduction 5.45x39 7N39 ammunition. One hundred four rounds of department issue 9x19 mm ammunition, fifty of which being non lethal electric based stun ammunition, the rest being department issued machined copper jacket hallow pointed ammunition. Sixty four rounds of 7.62x25mm reproduction Tokarev bi-metallic ammunition. Five TM-34 non-lethal stun grenades, keyed for both audio and visual damage. Two TMC-Gas grenades, non lethal riot gas. One 6H5 utility fighting knife in boot sheath. One "Knight Stick" tonfa style compliance baton with added electrical stun feature. Three sets of department issued high strength mechanical locking hand cuffs.

The transport shuddered with turbulence as it came in for it's landing at the precinct house, one that he amused was more fortified then most FOB's he'd been stationed at in Serbia or Bosnia. He paid little mind to the other trainees, he had gone over their files simply to get a read on them all, and personally found them to be a group of amoral misifts, but his judgement meant little.

He once again performed a chamber and mag check on his Lawmen, his rifle, and his back up pistol before going over his rig and checking it. Ballistic poly-weave over military grade polyethylene coated Boron-Carbide. Officially rated to stop high powered rifle rounds, personal experience told him the thickest plates could survive a glancing shot from mounted heavy machine guns at the cost of the bones of the person wearing it. At least his were Titanium-Carbide coated.

He took one last bite of vitamin and mineral fortified teriyaki jerky and stored it inside a spare vest pocket before reaching for his helmet and slipping it over his balaclava shrouded face. Old habits from Chechnya.

Mikhail was the second out, armored boots crunching on the tarmac of the landing pad, rifle slung over his rig at a ready position, hands by the straps of his day pack, easily containing another 20 kilos of extra gear over his 25 kilo set of armor and weapons. A lesser man would strain under what would be a full kit of any Military infantrymen, but Pasha was no lesser man and took it in stride, moving with the practiced, measured steps of a solider who had carried such many times before. He came to a stop next to the younger man, "Iron Jaw" as he had named him in his thoughts, and came to attention at the face of the ever scowling inspector.

Today would be interesting, to say the least.

[Antimersia]

Connor, as he was going by these days, sat back in his seat with his eyes closed. He hates flying. Always has and always will. He feels most comfortable when he can plant his feet firmly on the ground. Being several hundred feet above it, makes him uneasy to say the least. He meditates silently. The clattering of his fellow rookies checking their weapons was distracting. He wanted to yell at them to keep it quiet. But, he knew better than to make enemies of people he was meant to be working with. He sat with his arms crossed. The carbon steel, bisected arms are not new to his body, having had them for a couple of years now. But they were still rather foreign to him. The hard metal pressed against his torso is a feeling he will never get used to.

When the transport touched down he let out a smooth sigh of relief. He unlatched himself and slowly stood up from the seat. He secured his dual rail vector smgs to straps on either side of his torso, just below the arms. His Lawman holstered at his left hip. Connor slid his helmet onto his head, brushing his longer black hair to the back as he does. He turns his neck to crack it then steps out of the transport. He is the third out, walking rather relaxed as he falls in line. He stands at attention like the others. He looks at the scowling woman and shows nothing more than a deadpan stare in return.

[Revlona]

Savannah
The Negotiator

Savannah tried to get some sleep on the flight from the Academy, it was something she had learned early on in her training, sleep is a wonderful thing, have as much as you can possibly take because you never know when the next time you can close your eyes is. Sadly for her she had never been good at falling asleep on planes and instead contented herself with reading her copy of the Lex Pacifica and memorizing more than she already had, currently she was at 42% of it memorized and she wanted to get up to half as soon as she could. Her cleanly pressed dress uniform perfectly fit her and she was loathe to take it off as she knew was probably going to happen, she loved the official look of the uniform and the white color reminded her of home. However much she loved the white uniform, she found the field uniform of an Inspector all the much more attractive and fitting for the work she had placed herself in. For the near 100th time this flight she looked away from the pages and to her left at the floor to her left, feeling a heartache as her eyes didn't immediately find what she was looking for, relief washed over her even though she knew it was silly to feel that way as she spotted the dufflebag that held all the important gear she needed.

She began to lose focus as she noticed they were getting closer to landing, she set her Lex Pacifica down and looked around her. Her eyes stayed fixed on the metal arms of the person across from her for a few seconds more than was probably polite before she caught herself and shifted her gaze. Next she looked another man, curious at his age, she had never seen a recruit or cadet as old as he was. Maybe he was a veteran? Her gaze shifted again to another girl about Savannahs height, she had the look of a person from what used to be the British Isles, she also was the only other female on the craft and that comforted her. She had been worried that she would be alone in that aspect.

Several minutes later the craft finally touched down and they were given the go ahead to leave the craft. Savannah was one of the last ones off, thanks to the fact she was sitting near the rear. As she stepped out of the craft she noticed for the first time that several of the others were already in their field gear and she blushed, immediately worried that she had missed an order to change while she was reading. She looked around frantically for a second and found that others like her were still in their Whites. Confused, she resolved herself to just await whatever Veteran Inspector made of the situation.

[Sao Nova Europa]

Jonathan Wellington

The one thing Jonathan hated the most about this flight was that he wasn't allowed to wear one of his stylish tweed suits, and instead he had to wear a white uniform. 'No style, no uniqueness, a modernist atrocity of a clothe...' he thought. The other thing Jonathan hated about the flight was that in all likelihood he would have to work with others. He preferred to work on his own. 'I don't really need any other people in my field of work,' he would think. 'Everything and everyone I need is in my brain.' Indeed, his brain was his most impressive piece of equipment. He had an almost computer-like memory, being able to recall countless of minor details from a place or even insignificant lines from a conversation. He could spot clues and evidence that all others would miss or dismiss. His brain was able to connect all the dots in a case, making connections where others would see none. That was his strength. His weakness though was his mediocre physique. He had barely passed the physical examinations in the Academy and knew that if during this mission he would get in trouble, in all likelihood it would end up pretty bad for him.

When the craft finally touched down, Jonathan unstrapped himself and got up. "Finally!" he loudly exclaimed, not caring if others heard him speaking. 'This was among the most boring experiences in my life,' he mentally complained. 'My mind needs some stimulation. Sitting and doing nothing is driving me crazy! I need something to occupy my mind, to push my mental capacities, to turn on the lights on my brain! Hopefully there will be some crime that needs to be solved in this dumpster of a place...'

Jonathan got out of the transport, walking in a fast-paced manner and ignoring the others. It was very clear from his body language that he was fully confident of himself, eager for the task at hand and completely uninterested in other recruits.

[Morrdh]

It was hard to tell who was more astonished; Uxia or her instructors that she actually made through her training at the Academy. The past three or years she'd spent on the verge of being kicked out, always pushing the boundary of insubordination but stopping short of crossing the line. She was under no illusion the amount of frustrations she'd caused her instructors, the amount of times she was threatened with being dragged before the Rector of Law was testament to that. Yet, here she was three years later going to her first posting as a badged Inspector.

Though it wasn't by choice.

She'd started out as the child of a smuggler from Pacifica North, least until her parents got busted and she got taken into the care of the state. Close to a half dozen or years she spent in a Ward House before being selected as a draftee for the Inspectorate to fulfil the Ward House's quota and boom, she was off to the Academy as an unwilling recruit to be a terror for her instructors. Yet she'd, barely, got through her training to become an Inspector. Somebody out there must've had it in for her.

As the craft angled round, she got her first look at her new home; Precinct 13.

She wasn't at all familiar with Sector 13 or even the Center Region at all. Her family were Scots-Canadians who went back for generations in the former Canadian Province of British Columbia, now just another Sector in Pacifica North. Cascadia was the furthest south she'd ever been before, so Center seemed like a whole another world as far as she was concerned. Uxia suspected it was a deliberate ploy to post her well away from where she grew up, send her to some place where she would have no connections other than the Inspectorate itself.

Bastards.

Well, Uxia shrugged to herself as the craft landed. Time to see whatever supposed hard case they've dug up for us.

[Caltharus]

Adrian Voss

Adrian had never flown before, but found it a pleasant experience. Far more pleasant than sailing in a crowded boat. Not to mention the view. How the stained world looked so serene form above, when all its nastier details where too small to notice. However, despite finding the flight enjoyable, he had been unable to fall asleep. Instead he worried about the new team he apparently would complete his final assessment in.

Not a single word was spoken during the flight. Not one he heard at least. Now, obviously many slept and that was understandable, sleep was a treasure in the academy. What worried him however, was that even those wide awake hadn’t muttered a thing. In training he had a squad that played well into each other’s strengths. Now he only knew the very basics about his squad mates, whatever he had gathered from skimming their files. One had an iron jaw, which had garnered curious looks. He believed that the guy was called Fitz... something. Anyways he appeared to be skilled in sciences, something Adrian couldn’t help but respect, being somewhat subpar himself in those areas. Then there was the other fellow with immediately noticeable cybernetics, Slack. He didn’t know the man personally, but had heard stories of a steel armed cadet surpassing nigh all others in CQC training. When he had noticed that one of his passengers had six fingers in each hand, those stories and the info found on the files had clicked.

Lost in thought he barely even noticed when they began final approach to the 13th sector precinct. Then the thud of the transport touching down woke him. As the order to disembark came, he rose up with haste and tried to push those thoughts away. Seeing that he was last to leave the transport craft, he hurried to line up with the others. ‘Pleasant or not, this is the team i am given and the one i must adjust to’; Adrian lectured himself as he snapped into attention before the veteran inspector before them.

[Imperialisium]

Sector 13
Zone G
September 15th,
0600 Hours

The blare of an alarm sounded in the cramped confines of a single room flat overlooking the polluted brown waters of the New Oakland Canal. Acid rain, a problem in the early 2100's until the Government banned the use of certain aerosol industrial emissions had however pock marked much of the walkways and caused superficial cracks and damage to the outer facings of many buildings in the Zone. Acid burns from the rainwater could still be seen on some residents who've lived long enough in the area to live in the area during those years. The blare of the alarm abruptly cut out with the frantic slam of a hand emerging from under a wool blanket.

Groggily rising up from the small bed and the creak of its aged frame, thin mattress warped from over use, and the stained brown carpet rounded off what was soon to be revealed as an old, musty, apartment. Orange lights flickering on with the wave of a hand over a small, old, sensor near the bed. The shuffling of feet and the yawn of a male voice as a wrinkled face clearly in its fifth decade looked in a dusty mirror. Strands of gray interwoven with faded blond hair. A pair of dull blue eyes stared back at the man in the mirror.

"Alright, Harry, you're going to apply that for that promotion today at the shop. You're gonna' tell Richie that you're the best man for the job." The little pep talk supplemented by the sound of a faucet and a dime sized amount of toothepaste applied from a brush which should have been replaced two weeks ago, as the pep talk devolved into the sound of brushing. Spitting into the sink two minutes later a speckle of red. "Hmm, damn root canal wasn't done right I swear. Bleedin' for the last week that fuckin' doc doesn't know a molar from a tongue!"

Leaving the small bathroom annex the older man stepped into a small three feet by three feet shower space and closed the small plastic divider to prevent water from splashing into the rest of the apartment floor. Turning on the shower the man was in and out in four minutes. The water count mounted on the side twitching ever so slightly. Grimacing something about the water bill the older, Harry, meandered over to an old mechanics uniform and pulled on the grease stained overalls. Pulling on socks and small blue cap matching the colours of his overalls.

Harry left the flat a few minutes later, hands in his pockets, as he walked down the hall. The sound of loud rap music growing louder as he passed by a flat thumping with music. Damn kids these days. Moving down the dirty stairwell Harry descended six stories to a small lobby as he exited out onto street level. His building small and squat compared to the Mega-block across the street which towered over a hundred levels into the sky and took up the whole block. Inside, Harry could see the entire microcosm of the place. Shops, apartments, plaza, and so forth all existing in one building. Its own micro-economy. Harry moved along the street as the throngs increased in number. Ground cars trundling by slowly as pedestrians haphazardly crisscrossed the street. Their honks and beeps interspersed by the growing noise of urbanites rising to begin their days. Homeless and vagrants sparred for sidewalk space with fast paced proletariats in equal measure.

Stepping under an elevated Mag-Lev track Harry continued on a Northerly direction for another eight blocks. Towards a large Arcology which dominated Zone G. The New Oakland Mall Complex. Mall, consumer goods production plants, and residential habitation blocks all in one massive structure of one hundred and sixty levels, six plazas, a garden, synth-food production facilities, water processing, and workshops all bundled into one development of urban construction. Its concrete facings interspersed by some windows on the ground floor and gallery windows on the sixth level. Foot traffic was busy as people entered and exited the building. Taking a left, a small auto repair shop, one he intended to be chief mechanic of by the end of the day. Maybe then he'd have enough to get into one of those decent flats over in Zone H. A groan came from a narrow alley way to the left and Harry cast dismissive eyes at the prone figure in the alley. A discarded syringe next to the figure. Harry couldn't tell, due to the ratty hood the figure wore, if they were male or female. Quite frankly Harry didn't care either and just kept walking. He was nearly at the mechanic's shop when he glanced across the street at the small cafe inset into the outer wall of the arcology. Dunkin' Star's Coffee and Breakfast.

Harry looked both ways before making his way across the street. Pausing for a moment as he comprehended no one was in line before him. The young lady behind the counter, petite and Harry would say cute in a non-sexual manner with her brown and green uniform gave him a sweet smile, "Mornin' Sir! What will it be today?" Upbeat, cheery, disarming. Harry arced his eye brows for a moment as her rays of optimism struck his dour morning commute. "Uh..coffee, one cream," replied Harry.

"Nat or synth?"

"Oh uh..s-you know what, natural, go natural today."

"Okay, same for creamer?"

"Yeah sure, why not. Feeling like today's going to be a good day." The girl behind the counter smiled at that thought and worked the keys of her register. A chime and a ticket on thin pulp paper was spat out. "Cash or card? Sir."

Harry was silent for a moment before snapping back to reality. "Oh, uh, cash."

"That'll be thirty-seven."

Harry counted out the bills and handed them over to the girl who placed them in the secure drop register. The machine scanning them for counterfeit identifiers briefly before she turned around to make the coffee order. Placing it on the counter Harry reached over and took the container of fresh, hot, liquid. The smell of authentic coffee filling his nostrils.

"Have a good day!" said the girl behind the counter and Harry nodded in acknowledgement, "You too, miss." Turning around Harry stepped to the curb and took a sip. The taste of real coffee filling him with energy. Or was that the caffeine and sugar content of the cream? Real cream, from real dairy. Normally he couldn't afford a real coffee. But today he was going to get that promotion.

Casting his eyes to the right a pair of vans were rolling by. Looking left several suited individuals sat at a small diner seating outside as they enjoyed breakfast. Today was going to be a good da-.

Screeching tires, a squeal of brakes, and the roar of automatic gunfire ripped across the street. Harry watched the men seated smash to the ground with puffs of red mist as high velocity rounds punctured their bodies. Reducing them to death spasming lumps as the van doors opened and armed men in balaclavas and carrying automatic weaponry, SMGs, Assault Rifles, and semi-auto bolt action rifles stormed into the mall. A man exiting the mall as this all occurred so rapidly barely had time to acknowledge what was happened as he was shot in the chest.

The sound of weapons fire only intensified as the armed men entered the mall. The gallery glass six levels above shattered as rounds punctured them from whatever individuals inside were returning fire. Further down the left block several technicals rumbled onto the side wall as .50 caliber guns mounted onto their truck beds unleashed indiscriminate fire into openings into the arcology's ground floor before forming a perimeter as more armed men entered the Arcology. Harry ran, across the street, instinct finally taking over as his brain comprehended all the carnage he had just witness erupt before him. Violence he'd seen before but never could get used too. Tearing open the mechanic shop doors he shut them behind him as something above caught his eye. A Judiciary Drone flew overhead.

Precinct CIC
Sector 13
0635 Hours

Copy that SATCOM this is Sector 13 Control confirming live drone footage from Zone G, Martin Luther King Ave, New Oakland Mall Arcology. Mass shooting, multiple fatalities and possible wounded. 212th Attack Battalion mobilizing. Gunships en route shortly.

Copy that Sector 13, SATCOM transferring data-link control for surveillance satellite 14 to your mainframe. Standby.

Precinct 13 copies. Standing by. Link received and Sector House mainframe in control. Notifying High Inspectorate Volt and Commander Fawkes is in the air shortly.

Roger that 13. Operational control is yours. Good luck.

Thank you SATCOM.

A woman with short brown hair, dressed in the dark blue of a Judiciary support personnel raised a hand as her Watch Officer, an older woman with black hair and dark eyes maneuvered over quickly. The large screens above the fifteen rows of terminals displaying live feeds from Drones and SATCOM real time data for Sector 13. "Son of a bitch," said the Watch Officer as she ran her eyes over the recent feed and transmissions from the support person seated before her.

"Run a trace on those Technicals. See what footage we have. I want to know their origin point. Notify Fawkes of what you find."

"Should I issue a WC?" WC meant Wide-Call. A pan-sector call for all available Inspectors and Arbitrator Corps personnel to converge on a specific location. The Officer of the Watch looked up and her mouth dropped as several other screens showed similar events playing across not only Zone G, but H, E, and L.

"Negative on the WC. Notify adjacent Sector zones. Notify High Inspector Volt of the situation."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Another support person before their own terminal turned around, "Inspectors Colt and Maverine on converging on the firefight on Huberts and 22nd Street."

A third, "Inspector Drathen and Arbitrators Patrol 2-0 is engaged with a technical on 11th and Forst."

Four more near simultaneous incidents across those zones.

Inspector Zvezda
0647 Hours
Precinct 13 Roof top landing pad

Zvezda watched as the rookies one by one departed the transport craft. The VTOL peeling away smoothly as soon as the last one left the loading ramp. Some were dressed in field kit already, others still in dress, Zvezda's scowl didn't budge a smidge. Volt turned sideways as if to speak when the access door burst open and an man in the dark blue uniform of similar cut and style as the cadet's dress white's rapidly approached holding a data-slate. Saluting Volt quickly the man handed her the data-slate. Her eye brows raised and she handed it to Zvezda, "Hell of a first day you're going to have."

Zvezda's lips didn't so much as twitch as she read the initial report rapidly compiled by Sector Command and Control. Volt turned and left without a word to the rookies. Zvezda didn't turn to watch her go and merely began stepping forward towards the row of rookies at attention. She held up the data-slate, grasping the top of it, as she walked slowly in front of each one.

"Sector 13, a violent crime every three seconds. Can respond to only 8% of those a day. Just now, a mass shoot out at one of the Sector Arcologies. New Oakland Mall Arcology. Multiple dead, multiple possibly wounded inside, perps heavily armed and dangerous. Possible third party gang members involved as well." The data-slate lowered as Zvezda stopped by Savannah and drew close. "Your final assessment begins now. Kit up. Meet me in the marshalling yard in ten."

Zvezda turned on her heel and left. But not before visibly setting the timer on the computer built into the armor of her gauntlet.

[Morrdh]

Huh, baptism of fire much? Uxia mused after Zvezda had finished her spew before temporarily dismissing them. Looked like they were being thrown straight into the fray rather than be given the red carpet tour of the Precinct, something that Uxia wasn't the least bit surprised about. Sector 13 was meant to be the roughest around and it seemed like they were to be meat for the grinder, Uxia was half-expecting their ranks to be thinner come the end of the day.

And the whole 'be ready in ten' thing smacked too strongly of the Academy, no doubt their assessor expected them to be ready in five minutes. How many of her fellow rookies would figure this out Uxia could only guess at, though probably one or two would take the ten minutes at gospel. Uxia had recognised the 'be ready five minutes sooner' ploy at the Academy and had always been a couple of seconds 'late' and saw no need to change your ways now. It would be interesting to see whether Miss Scowlface wore any other expression and how much of a stickler for the regs they actually were.

So round five minutes and two seconds later, Uxia arrived in the marshalling yard wearing her field kit. She glanced round to see whether she was the first one to arrive or whether some of her fellow recruits had realised the ploy.

[Revlona]

Savannah

“A mass shooting..?” Savannah muttered to herself, she had never been subject to the horror that was a mass shooting, none had ever occurred in the peaceful suburbs that was Edens Lawn. Of course she had seems reports of such on the news, but they seemed so rare to her. To have to respond to one on her first day seemed like bad luck. It was then she had realized the others had begun to move out and that she had wasted a precious few seconds woolgathering.

She sprang into action, grabbing her bag from where she had placed it on the ground and near sprinted to where she could get changed. She quickly slipped the Dress Whites from her body and onto the floor, wincing as the clothing become wrinkled and untidy. She did her best to fold them and place them aside in the time given but didn’t do the best if jobs. She then stepped into her body glove and the rest of her gear, the final piece being put into place 4 minutes after they had been instructed to change.

Her gear consisted of the normal Inspector loading, her Lawman sat on her right hip, her ammo on her left. A baton sat collapsed as well as several pairs of cuffs. The items that you probably wouldn’t see on a normal inspector however was were the two pouches farther back on her hip. One contained extra medical supplies, bandages, morphine, and the likes, while the others held treats. Candy, chocolate, small toys, all were valuable tools for getting people to talk, they’d most likely work better on youths and children but you never knew when an adult might accept chocolate because they haven’t had any in years.

Savannah hurried out of the lockers and to the rally spot, stopping by to pick up her sidearm on the way. She arrived at the rally spot with 4 minutes remaining in their allotted time. She could see that she went alone and that the other girl in the recruits was there as well. Savannah smiled at her and tried to catch her eye, hoping to start friendly relations with the other girl.

[Parcia]

Mikhail "Pasha" Jadranko

After being dismissed, Mikhail turned and gave a brief nod and a glance to each of his fellow trainees. "Not even 9 am and there's a mass fuckin shooting. Looking to be a eventful day." Being already in full kit he only made a momentary passing by the armory to stock up on a few spare mags, stashed in his pack, and a pair of actual smoke grenades on top of his gas and stun grenades. He was arguably the most well armed and armored, being the only Direct Action officer in his training team, at least as he saw it.

Officer Loyd was arguably about as well trained as he was, if not as...well prepared given Pasha's past experiences in matters such as these. Personally she was the only one he held any explicit good will towards, them seemingly choosing the more direct form of policing, though he figured she was a bit more ideal driven then he was.

That was his personal assessment of her, to say the least, and he packed it away as he made his way to the field, finding a few of his new team mates there with him. He slipped his helmet off once again and began to gnaw on some more on his fortified jerky, softly humming a tune before deciding to be forward about it. He cleared his throat and spoke up, still gnawing on the jerky as he approached those present. "Excuse me, but I don't think I've introduced my self just yet. Mikhail, Mikhail Jadranko, Direct Action."

[Revlona]

Savannah

The Older recruit arrived just after she had and introduced himself, it was really just a formality, unless they were lacking in initiative Savannah assumed that each of the Recruits had gone over the others files. This one was a veteran, the files didn't specify of which war, but Savannah guessed he had taken part in the Yugoslav conflicts in the east. Savannah put a smile on her face, a genuine one, and like a true diplomat nodded to the Bruiser.

"Savannah Druminil, I look forward to working with you," She said. She didn't really look forward to working with him, he seemed like the trigger happy type and might be the bane of negotiations in the future. As a practiced diplomat, none of these thoughts showed on her face or in her body language, to everyone present she would seem completely genuine.

Savannah let the smile sit for a second before she turned away from the man and towards Zvezda. Tilting her head at the women and trying to, yet failing, to get a proper read on her.

[Smenovekhovtia]

Michael Fitzgerald

Michaels eyes silently looked over at the other recruits as they grabbed gear for what was bound to be an eventful morning. He opened his pack and starting dressing into his standard issue uniform before wrapping a holster sling around his waste. He placed his standard issue lawman mk III into the holster. He slung the pack back onto his back before following Pasha off to the armory. Once in the armory, Michael grabbed several light explosive charges for breaching and loaded them into his police grade pack. Michael also likewise grabbed some extra ammo for his Lawman Mk. III.

Michael moved back to the rallying point where he noticed both Uxia, Savannah, and Pasha. He listened to the light accent of Pasha and very quickly deduced that he held Yugoslavian heritage. The robotic static from his voice box echoed out towards them with a the distorted screech of a radio broadcaster. "and my name is Michael Fitzgerald, I specialize in Explosives, Chemistry, and Cybernetic affairs."

[Caltharus]

Adrian Voss

‘Marshalling grounds in ten? I thought we left the academy and these exercises behind’; Adrian thought as he turned to grab his bag and rushed to change clothes. The dress whites came of quick and were replaced with his body glove and sleek armour suit that offered more protection than the standard light gear. Then he was off to the armoury. Whlist some left in hurry, with several minutes time remaining, he took the time to make sure that his gear was comfortably on, and to double and even triple check that he had everything. Six mk III lawman magazines, each on their own pouch around his waist. One extra special ammo magazine, several stun and smoke grenades, the lawman itself on a holster attached to his right thigh and finally a baton, like the magazines, attached to his belt.

As he was about to step out of the armoury, he suddenly halted and repeated what Inspector Zvezda had told them. ‘... mass shoot out at one of the Sector Arcologies. New Oakland Mall Arcology. Mall? That means lots of open spaces, in which some additional cover could prove useful’. Having made up his mind, he walked back and grabbed a Judiciary sanctioned ballistic shield, usually part of heavy loadouts.

Then he finally left the armoury and hastily jogged to the marshalling grounds. Upon arriving he noticed that he was the fifth to arrive, and that the rest were apparently introducing themselves. ‘At last they opened their mouths’; he pondered before joining the conversation. “Nice to meet you all, Adrian Voss, covering fire specialist. Where you go first, I go second and cover you all the way... Albeit, now that i have the shield i might have to take point”.

[Antimersia]

Connor got moving the moment Zvezda finished giving her order. He was good at following orders. being raised by triad you either learned to be prompt or learned to enjoy the feeling of bamboo striking your forearms. The thought of it gave Connor phantom pains. He walked into the armory and spent little time there. Only electing to fill his body glove with ballistic plates and grab an extra pair of reserve mags for his rail vectors. He pulls both vectors out of their holsters on either side of his torso. His arms bi-sect. His top arms take one vector, and his bottoms arms take the other. He does one final spot check of the weapons before leaving the armory. He reholsters the smgs, and conjoins his arms. He strides out through the hallway and into the elevator. The minor falling sensation of the elevator starting to descend reminds Connor once again of why he hates flying. Not having a firm hold on the ground below makes him uneasy. The moment the doors open he rushes out to the marshalling yard. He isn't late in any way, he still has several minutes before Zvezda's seemingly arbitrary time limit is up. But, urgency is something the bamboo has instilled in him.

He stands at attention in the yard by his fellow rookies. They all begin to introduce themselves to one another. Connor has no true desire to engage. Everything they are saying, or need to know about one another was in the data sheets provided to them. But, he knows better than to just ignore people and be rude. "Connor Slack, CQC." He adds, speaking shortly. His thick Laotian accent dominates his words. He taps his foot against the hard asphalt. Doing nothing is almost as excruciating for Connor as flying is.

[Acerbez]

Cainen Anuel

Stepping off from the VTOL, Cainen was already kitted and equiped with a standard 'extended' loadout. The sleek black finish of the obviously new shoulder and chest pieces barely glinted off of the rising sun's shine. Cainen's prosethetic right surged into the pavement first, it was closely followed by his left, and lastly his standard issue pack. The man stood stood with his posture slightly slouched briefly before arching backwards and a slow and generous stretch. The curvature reaching all the way down so that even his heels left the ground for a proper 10 seconds.

"Ahhhhhhhhh.......... SHIT!" He groaned without enjoyably and abruptly ended without care as to whomever heard his absurdity. Intently satisfied with his own feeling of no longer sitting in the cramped ship. His eye's closed but the clamouring of boots around him was just as familiar as it had ever been. After his stretch, he paused and let out a light regulated breath that was closer to a sigh. Cainen gripped his helmet with his hand and ran his the other through his hair. Furling his lips he looked around at those in their whites running off to change on Zvezda's order. Cainen couldnt help but raise a brow at their miraculous initiative. Punctuality and order... Not too difficult a prospect to enact while on duty.

He shifted his gaze behind his shoulder and peeked at the VTOL a lasting glance via side eye. Ensuring none of his 'compatriots' were darting through his trajectory, Cainen let off a quick spit fire of saliva that silently sprayed into the ground. Cainen was ready for the assessment, gear on deck, and state of mind calm as could be. He patted his sides, ass, then leaned down into his pack feeling around for his belongings.

Phone, check. Glizzy, check. Ammo, check. Shmoke, check. Stunna, check. Mop stick, check. he thought to himself while leaning down rummaging through his personal and items. His step was rather loose and aloof, certainly unlike his uptight peers. Strutting off to throw the pack in his locker and getting to the yard in better time than others.

[Sao Nova Europa]

'Mass shooting, eh...' Jonathan thought. He wasn't particularly thrilled with the mission. He craved mental stimulation; solving the delicate and complex puzzle that was a murder, disappearance or robbery case didn't compare with going in and shooting armed gangsters. 'The first requires thinking, research, connecting the dots and careful planning... the second involves a bunch of hotheads shooting at each other.'

Nevertheless, orders were orders and Jonathan understood that if he was to be allowed to handle actual cases, he would have to pass this test. While his strengths lied in his mental prowess, he had managed - even barely - to pass the physical exams in the academy, and thus he was reasonably prepared for armed combat. 'I should be able to make it out alive, so that I can finally get to the intellectually-challenging cases,' he thought as he made his way to the armory. He armed himself with a Lawman and a light patrol gear; at most, he would be offering supportive fire, so anything more would simply slow him down.

Armed and prepared, he stepped out of the armory and headed to the yard. Once there, he saw that the other recruits were introducing themselves. Jonathan had no wise to fraternize with those people. He hated social interactions ("I hate wasting time on intellectual inferiors, when I could be pushing my mental capabilities with mind puzzles," he used to say). Instead of interacting with the others or thinking about the case, he would be mentally solving various mental puzzles.

[Segmentia]

The flight to the Precinct building was noisy, though not as bad as most nights growing up, Victoria mused as she relaxed, not fully leaning up against the back of her seat. She looked around at the group she was with, noticing some faces she had seen in the Academy, though no one she had directly interacted with. The guy with the mechanical jaw, for instance, wasn't someone you just forgot. There were a few others, but she stopped caring after taking in a few details. There would be time for introductions and interactions later. As the pilot announced they were arriving she spared a quick look out at the building itself, impressive in its own right like most other structures were these days, truth be told. She quickly checked over her gear, and then once again.

As the transport touched down, Victoria stood and hauled her duffle bag up to her shoulder, exiting the craft with her fellow rookies. She lined up with the others, their overseeing Inspector soon walking down the line of them holding a data-slate, giving them a very quick crash course of the sector they were in, and their first mission. Ten minutes to get into proper kit and down to the marshaling yard, not the most challenging of tasks, but this time it was the real deal, pass or fail at the word of their supervising Inspector. As the others broke off, Victoria followed, jogging into the precinct and following the signs to the armory. She waited her turn to receive a weapon, using the time wisely to strip out of her dress uniform and start putting on her duty uniform, the standard light kit with a few additional plates protecting vital areas. Her actions got a few looks, but most of them seemed to say 'Been there, done that', at least from the obviously veteran Inspectors.

Once it was her turn at the counter, she slid an ident-card to the supply officer, who quickly slid it into a computer she couldn't see the screen of. The officer nodded grimly. “Fresh meat, huh? Says here you're certified for the Peacemaker series of combat shotgun. I've got a 2119 if you want it.” The officer said. Victoria offered him a grin. “Hell yeah I want it!” She exclaimed. The officer returned the grin and she quickly gave him a preferred ammo load out, nothing special, just a drum of regular buckshot and a drum of slugs. She didn't have time for anything special. Once she received her load out, a Mark III Lawman and several mags, and the 2119 and two drums, she offered a hasty thanks as she secured her newly acquired gear. She quickly made her way from the armory and back to the elevators, cursing to herself as she had forgotten a baton, but she didn't have the time to go back and wait for one. She stopped into a locker room quickly, found and open locker, and threw her duffle bag inside one, locking it up.

The elevator down was quick and Victoria spotted a collection of the other rookies, making her way over to them. It seemed like there was a round of introductions, except one guy who gave off the air of a total snob. Victoria readjusted some of her ammo as she jumped in.

“Hey, I'm Victoria. Looks like we're going to have an interesting first day.” She said, with a shrug. Mass shootings were nothing new to her, though now she would have some agency of cleaning one up instead of being caught in the middle of one.

[Morrdh]

Uxia wasn't surprised to only find one or two of her fellow rookies already there when she arrived in the marshalling yard, the response of their assessor was going to be interesting to behold. Over the next few minutes the rest of the team duly arrived, some more friendly than others as they quickly set about introducing themselves. One of the other lasses glanced expectantly in Uxia's direction, something that made Uxia sigh.

"McNeill." Uxia simply said. "Just 'cos we're on the same team, don't expect us to be chummy."

Before the girl could get a word in edgeways, Uxia took a few steps away towards the other side of the assembled crowd.

[Imperialisium]

Inspector Zvezda
Sector 13 Precinct Marshalling Yard
September 15th, 2120
0655 Hours

Zvezda checked the timer on her wrist once before Uxia arrived first. Then one by one the rookies filed from the building with their kit and weapons. Some taking the time to socialize, which naturally did Zvezda didn't participate in, and merely waited till they were all present while several teams of support personnel pulled out her Grav-Bike and a series of Motorbikes for the other Inspectors. As the last bike was brought out the Marshalling Yard's activity only increased as Arbitrator companies moved out in force in convoys. Overhead a trio of helicopters and a VTOL gunship passed by overhead. Arbitrator door gunners tracking left and right a they headed to the same destination that Zvezda and the team of rookies she was meant to supervise would go too.

"Mount up," ordered Zvezda as the timer clocked in at ten minutes. She herself moving to mount the Grav-bike and with a link between her suit and the bike it's engine activated with a thrum of repulsor fields turning on. Her scowl remained in place while the rest of her face was hidden by extended face plate parts from her helmet. She eyed the rookies as they prepared to leave. Activating the throttle she swung her Grav-bike in a sharp arc and took off through the gates and through the wire. Moving along parallel to the convoys of Arbitrators whom in their own vehicles were checking weapons, equipment, and communicating about the situation they were going in too.

The other Inspectors of course would also hear some communication chatter as they tuned their own equipment to the proper frequencies. There were several technicals mounting heavy weapons engaged with another faction around the arcology. Fighting could be heard and sometimes seen in the interior. While civilians were hunkering down or rushing away in a surge of petrified humanity as chaos consumed the blocks around the arcology. SATCOM had run a back trace on the technical and concluded they had emerged from a mega-block controlled by the Twenty-One Hundred Blues. While some tattoos and facial recognition of bodies from local surveillance cameras around the Arcology gave positive identification for both Abergil Crime Syndicate and Neo-Latin Kings members.

The sounds of gunfire as the minutes ticked by, the convoys moving onto the B-level elevated highway as they raced through rapidly parting traffic, through the city scape. Eventually arriving at quarter past fifteen as the boom and rattles of gunfire filled the airwaves. A pair of Judicial Drones circled overhead. Pulling off the elevated highway Zvezda led the rookies down a side street were one convoy was dismounting its infantry component. Ahead, to the East, gunfire tore back and forth.

"Sector CIC, Path me into local public speakers around and within the Arcology," said Zvezda.

<<Affirmative Inspector. You're fed in.>>

Pulling up her Grav-Bike alongside the convoy Zvezda straightened as she held up her left fore arm vambrace and began to speak clearly.

To all gunmen at large. This is the law. Lay down your arms or lethal force will be authorized. You have one minute to comply...

Auto-King's Mechanic Shop
0715 Hours
Harry

Harry looked out at the carnage and slowly backed away as the sound of helicopters and then the roar of a gunships engines. Outside the street battle only increased as groups in suits and in yellow merged from alleys and streets. While from the West and South-West more ground cars and mobs from the attacking side poured in. The streets around the Arcology filling with gunfire. The smoke plume of an RPG raced by the shop windows to detonate with a loud booming thud and crash of metal as a ground car blew.

Then the voice came from the public speakers. Booming across the streets from the Arcology public speaking system. Harry began to back up as he knew what was coming. Until his back hit the wall and he could try, fruitlessly, to move even further back into the wall. The gunfire outside slowing, until a second RPG chem-trail zipped by.

Thirty-seconds to comply...

This time the gunfire didn't abate. If anything it intensified.

You have been warned.

Zvezda
0717 Hours
Just West of the New Oakland Mall Arcology

Zvezda turned and nodded to an Arbitrator in Colonel markings whom had approached during her declaration. The Arbitrator officer, Fawkes, nodded and turned to his comrades, "Alright let's light em' up. All units free to engage the exterior hostiles." Zvezda watched as the gunship circled for a few seconds. Then a series of 30mm shells from its side mounted auto-cannon began to spit down into the street. The detonations masked by a building in the way. The helicopters also opened with the mini-guns of door gunners.

The Arbitrators began their advance and Zvezda dismounted to advance alongside them. Not even sparing a glance to see if the rookies were following. Rounding the intersection there was a scene of growing carnage as bodies of shooters and civilians dotted the streets. Several burning ground cars, a burnt out van, and a series of shot up vehicles on the right hand side was mirrored around the other four entrances. While in the sky-access way where the Arcology had access corridors above the street level there was shooting as Arbitrators moved to cut off the entrance and exits.

Zvezda moved to the corner and peered around. Arbitrators stacking up and moving down alleyways as the forces of the Judiciary joined the ongoing battle. A Technical spewing .50 caliber rounds zipped into view from a side street. The boom of a cannon and Zvezda turned her head as a M5 Angeles Main Battle Tank struck the technical dead on. Exploding the vehicle as its pintle mounted .30 and .50 cal guns scythed down a trio of gunmen in yellow who made the mistake of emerging from a shattered ground floor Arcology window.

Zvezda side stepped as an Arbitrator lieutenant ordered his platoon to move forward. Splitting into various squads to add their own firepower on top of the AFV now behind them. Zvezda turned to the rookies, "Multiple hostiles interior and exterior. Call it."

Call it. Make the decision of how to proceed. Zvezda was asking them or any one of them to give an answer. They were under assessment and this was a test of team planning and initiative.

[Morrdh]

Uxia note Zvezda's response, rather lack of one, and simply shrugged. It looked like their beloved assessor was maintaining a cold exterior, though Uxia made a mental note to try not to incur her wrath. Though like the other rookies, Uxia mounted the motorbike assigned to her and followed out with the rest of the Judicial convoy. It looked like they were getting straight down to the business of dishing out justice.

By the time they reached the arcology it appeared to be a full-blown warzone, neither party involved were messing around especially as the Justice Department responded in kind. She'd heard tales of so-called 'block wars' and this was her first time seeing something akin to one. It was almost awe-inspiring. She watched and waited as Zvezda accessed the arcology's speakers and ordered the gunmen to stand down, though to no avail, before passing the buck to the rookies to decide how to proceed.

"Speakers?" Suggested Uxia. "Use 'em to broadcast a high-pitched noise, distract the gunmen if not outright incap them. Then we go in and take 'em."

[Smenovekhovtia]

Michael Fitzgerald

Michael moved as ordered and mounted the closet grab bike to him. He had learned about the various nuances of opersting such a machine while in the Academy and had just about made himself an extension of it by the end of his training. He speeded behind Uxia and Zvezda with the grace and rhythm of a well oiled internal combustion engine. He came to a stop as soon as they arrived on scene and moved behind Zvezda. The woman yelled out across the battelfield towards Michael and the other recruits for a quick decision on how to advance forward. He listened carefully to Uxias suggestion and nodded at her as his robotic voice came through to them.

"LRADs can be utilized in this situation to at least keep the outside quiet. We need to keep it on lower frequencies as to avoid the risk of permanent damage to innocents inside. My suggestion would be to focus our efforts immediately on evac of civilians caught in the cross fire. We can have a team breach from above the building and possibley have another team breach through the lobby under cover fire. One or two teams can go through the sewer systems under the buildings and breach into the basement. We can then secure the basement and use the sewers as another exit route for civillians. Have arbitors posted throughout the sewers and the basement to serve as covering fire and aid for civilians moving out of the area. Any other suggestions?"

Michael unholstered his Lawman Mk. III following his suggestion. Keeping it low and with the safety on for the moment being. He looked over at Uxia and then the other recruits for agreement, criticism, or augmentation of his plan though he felt the need to enter the building worsened with every minute they sat in debate.

[Segmentia]

Victoria mounted her bike as the others did the same, and in sort order they were on their way to what would quickly become a war-zone, Victoria knew. They traveled with the Arbitrator convoy to the vicinity of the New Oakland Mall Arcology. Once they arrived and things kicked off she busied herself double checking her gear one last time before moving off with the group. She wished she had brought more ammo, she knew first hand how bad these things could get. As the Arbitrators got into full swing, the air filled with weapons fire, explosions, and the yells and screams of the wounded and the dying.

Their supervising Inspector returned to them and told them to call it. Two other rookies spoke, and the ideas weren't the worst she had ever heard.

“The best bet to getting control of the speakers would be taking the main security room, or an auxiliary one, but that's not a sure bet if any of the gangs have taken the main. We also need to start clearing out hostiles and getting civilians out. I say we split into two teams, one can go in through the sewer as you suggested,” She said nodding towards Michael. “While the other team starts making progress into one of the lobbies, with Arbitrator support.” But what Arbitrator support, thought Victoria as she scanned around. She spotted an Arbitrator officer and walked over to him, seeing the captains insignia as she got closer.

“Captain,” Victoria nodded in greeting “think you can spare a platoon and a piece or two of heavy equipment to help us breech into one of the lobbies? Help us pin down some hostiles and get to work on the plaza?”

[Revlona]

“Captain,” Victoria nodded in greeting “think you can spare a platoon and a piece or two of heavy equipment to help us breech into one of the lobbies? Help us pin down some hostiles and get to work on the plaza?”

Savannah

"It'd be much appreciated Captain, breaching the plaza would allow us a foothold from which we could start clearing the bastards out of the inside.." Savannah said from over beside Victoria, she had liked Victoria's plan and since negotiations were her specialty, she had tagged along to get some supporting fire. She winced a bit as a stray round flew a meter or so over there heads, but since it wasn't followed by anymore she went with the assumption that it wasn't an aimed shot. She hadn't ever heard this much gunfire in her life, it didn't sound anything like the movies she had watched. Of course she had heard gunfire before and knew what it sounded like but she had never experienced something like this before. She looked to her left over at Victoria, while the other woman's face wasn't visible her posture was relaxed, she was probably used to stuff like this and had learned to shrug it off. That was when Savannah noticed she was tensed up, she wondered how long she had been like that as she took a deep breath and released the tension in her body.

"Sorry to tag in uninvited Victoria, I'll be going with the lobby group, that is probably where I can do the most help anyways," Savannah said, not turning to face the other woman as she spoke. Instead focusing her gaze on the captain as she awaited his response.