Piltover - Debriefing Room

The hallway echoed with the measured footsteps of four figures walking in unison. At the front, Caitlyn Kiramman led the group, her posture steady and purposeful. To her right was Alex Mason, his gaze sharp and scanning the surroundings, while Frank Woods walked to her left, his impatience evident in every stride. Trailing behind them, a commanding presence in his own right, was Master Chief, his Mjolnir armor gleaming matte black under the corridor lights.

The group moved as a unit, their mission clear as they approached the doors to the debriefing room. Caitlyn pressed the access panel, and the doors hissed open, revealing the team already assembled inside.

Seated around the table were familiar faces, each a vital part of Piltover's defense: Jason Hudson, Tracer leaning casually against the wall, Sergeant Avery J. Johnson standing with his hands clasped behind his back, Ezio Auditore with his hood pulled down, revealing his calm, calculating expression, and Sova, whose sharp eyes seemed to observe everything at once. At the far end of the table sat Danse, their tactical advisor, his dark blue and gold Power Armor shimmering under the room's lights. His helmet rested on the table, the intricate detailing a testament to Piltover's technological prowess.

As the four entered, Danse immediately stood, his focus shifting to Master Chief. The two warriors strode toward each other, their movements deliberate and respectful. Danse extended his hand. "Chief," he said simply, his tone firm but warm.

"Danse," Master Chief replied, gripping his hand firmly. The silent exchange of mutual respect between two seasoned soldiers spoke volumes, both clad in their own iconic armors—each a symbol of their strength and service.

Woods, however, broke the moment with his characteristic impatience. "Alright, is this the team? Let's get this shit done," he said, throwing his arms up slightly, his tone gruff and unapologetic. "By the time we're planning this, Menendez is already gone."

The hologram projector at the front of the room flickered, revealing three figures blocked by the shimmering display. The hologram shifted to the side, revealing the leaders standing behind it: Liam "Brimstone" Byrne, the Director, on the right; Captain Anita "Bangalore" Williams on the left; and, in the center, Arthur Maxson, the Grand Marshal for the Enforcers.

Maxson's stern gaze immediately locked onto Woods, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Watch your tone, Frank Woods," Maxson said disapprovingly, his words laced with authority. "This mission is more than just 'getting it done.' It requires precision, discipline, and respect. If you can't manage that, I'll find someone who can."

Woods growled but held his tongue, muttering under his breath, "Discipline my ass..."

Maxson's sharp gaze shifted to Caitlyn, his expression firm and scrutinizing. "Commander Kiramman," he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of expectation, "are you certain this is the team you want for this operation?"

Caitlyn met his gaze without hesitation, standing tall as she nodded. "Yes, Grand Marshal. I am confident in this team's abilities."

Maxson regarded her for a moment longer, the weight of his scrutiny palpable. Finally, he spoke, his tone laced with both warning and expectation. "Then be sure your choice is efficient. If this doesn't go as planned, Menendez will slip through our grasp again. And this time, there may not be another opportunity."

Caitlyn's expression didn't falter, her voice calm and resolute. "I understand, sir. We won't fail."

Maxson studied her for a moment longer, the weight of his authority pressing down on the room. Finally, he gave a curt nod, turning his gaze back to the assembled team. "Very well. See to it that you deliver results, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn glanced across the room, her eyes landing on Bangalore. The Captain gave her a confident smirk, her arms crossed in a relaxed stance. Caitlyn nodded subtly in return, the unspoken trust between them evident.

Her gaze then shifted to Tracer, who leaned casually against the wall, watching with her characteristic playfulness.

Tracer gave Caitlyn a quick wave, her grin widening as she mouthed, "Hi, love."

A faint smile tugged at Caitlyn's lips, the brief exchange cutting through the tension for just a moment. But just as quickly, she refocused, her attention returning to the task at hand.

Maxson's gaze lingered on Woods for a moment longer before he addressed the room. "Now that everyone is here, let's begin. We're facing a situation that requires our full attention and complete cooperation. There's no room for error."

The room settled into silence as the gravity of the mission began to sink in, the tension palpable yet focused.

Maxson turned toward the center of the table, his commanding tone cutting through the room. "Cortana, go ahead."

A shimmering blue holographic figure materialized over the table, Cortana's form elegant and precise. Her vibrant, glowing presence illuminated the room as she adjusted the hologram display, sliding the projection to reveal a detailed map of Piltover. The team leaned in, their focus sharpening.

Cortana's voice, smooth yet authoritative, filled the room. "According to Hudson's intel, Raul Menendez has established a stronghold—a house the size of a fortress—located on the very edge of Piltover. The location is highly discreet and strategically positioned, far away from civilian activity. It's clear he's chosen this area to minimize detection and interference."

Mason furrowed his brow, his frustration evident. "How the hell are we figuring this out now? We've been chasing this guy for weeks." He gestured toward the map as if demanding answers.

Cortana's holographic form shifted slightly as she turned to address him directly, her expression calm but pointed. "Because Menendez is resourceful and meticulous. His movements have been carefully concealed, and this stronghold wasn't established overnight. It's only due to the combined efforts of Piltover Central Intelligence and their latest surveillance upgrades that we were able to pinpoint his location at all."

Mason muttered under his breath, leaning back slightly. "Great. Just another day chasing ghosts."

Cortana continued, unfazed. "What matters now is that we have an opportunity. The structure is heavily fortified, with advanced defenses and multiple access points designed to deter an assault. However, there are vulnerabilities we can exploit, provided the team executes the plan with precision."

Maxson stepped forward, his tone firm. "Then we don't waste any time. Cortana, give us a full breakdown of the stronghold's defenses and entry points. We'll move quickly and decisively."

Cortana nodded, her form flickering briefly as she zoomed in on the holographic map, highlighting the layout of the stronghold and key points of interest. "Yes, Grand Marshal."

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Cortana adjusted the holographic map, her shimmering blue form shifting as she zoomed in on Menendez's stronghold. The structure was imposing, surrounded by high, reinforced walls that marked it as a veritable fortress.

"The area is completely walled off," Cortana explained, highlighting the perimeter in glowing red lines. "This means any approach will require breaching tactics. No easy way in, but there are vulnerabilities we can exploit if coordinated effectively."

Caitlyn stepped closer to the table, her sharp eyes scanning the map. She pointed toward a raised structure near the edge of the property. "There," she said confidently. "I'll position myself here for a clear vantage point. From this location, I can oversee the entire area and provide covering fire if needed."

Brimstone, standing near the head of the table, crossed his arms as he considered her suggestion. "Good. But we'll need more than that. The Enforcers and Marines will need to join this operation to ensure Menendez has no chance of escape. We need to outnumber and overwhelm him."

Danse, his imposing presence accentuated by the gleam of his Power Armor, leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "I suggest we execute a pincer movement," he said, his voice measured and tactical. "One team breaches the main entrance to draw their attention. The second team advances on the rear side. That way, we'll pressure Menendez and his forces from both ends, forcing them into a no-win situation."

Bangalore nodded, her confident demeanor taking charge. "I'll lead the charge on the rear end," she said decisively, her gaze sweeping across the team. "Sova, Danse, and Lena—you're with me. The enforcers will rally with us on our end." She glanced at each of them in turn, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Sova gave a short nod, his calm demeanor unwavering. "Understood," he said, already mentally preparing for the mission.

Danse, ever the tactician, straightened up and adjusted his armor. "I'll ensure our advance is coordinated and precise. Menendez won't have a chance to regroup," he replied firmly.

Tracer, standing off to the side with her characteristic energy, grinned. "Guess that means I'm sticking with you guys, yeah? Sounds like fun!"

Bangalore shot her a smirk. "Don't get too excited, Oxton. This isn't a game."

"Don't worry, love," Tracer replied with a wink. "I'll keep it professional... mostly."

Bangalore had just finished assigning her team when Avery J. Johnson stepped forward, his characteristic confidence lighting up the room. He planted his hands on the table, his grin unmistakable. "Alright, guess that leaves me to lead the charge on the main entrance. Mason, Woods, Hudson—you're sticking with me," he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a friendly game of cards.

Johnson glanced around the room, his smirk widening. "And don't worry, I'll have the Marines on our asses for backup. We'll make enough noise to keep Menendez and his boys focused on both sides."

Mason exchanged a knowing glance with Woods, the two operatives nodding in sync. "Works for me," Mason said simply, his voice calm and clipped.

Woods chuckled, his grin sharp and ready. "Let's just hope Menendez brought enough friends to make this interesting."

Hudson adjusted his collar, his demeanor more restrained but no less committed. "We'll hold the line, Sargent."

Johnson clapped his hands together, his energy infectious. "That's what I like to hear. Let's show this bastard what Piltover's finest can do."

Ezio, standing at the edge of the room with his hood pulled down, stepped forward, his tone calm but direct. "And where does that leave myself and Master Chief?"

Danse, ever the tactician, straightened and gestured toward the holographic map. His armored hand traced a line above the structure. "Both of you will breach from the top," he said, his voice measured and commanding. "You'll be on standby aboard the Pelicans until we get the signal."

He turned to Master Chief first. "Chief, you'll drop down first. Your priority will be breaching Menendez's location directly. Hit him hard and fast before he has a chance to regroup."

Then Danse's gaze shifted to Ezio. "You'll follow immediately after. Your skillset makes you ideal for neutralizing key threats and ensuring Menendez has no escape routes."

Master Chief shifted slightly, his iconic helmet reflecting the light as he spoke. "Understood," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of experience.

Ezio glanced at Chief and then back at Danse, a faint smile crossing his lips. "It seems we'll have the pleasure of making an entrance together," he said, his tone calm but with an edge of confidence.

However," Danse added, his voice growing firm, "you'll need precise intel for this to work." His gaze moved to Sova and Caitlyn. "That's where you two come in. Sova, you'll use your reconnaissance to identify Menendez's exact position. Caitlyn, with your vantage point, you'll confirm the intel and coordinate the timing for Chief and Ezio to deploy. Once you spot him, signal immediately—there can be no delay."

Sova nodded, his calm demeanor unwavering. "Understood. I'll ensure the information is accurate."

Caitlyn's sharp eyes flicked to the map, already planning her approach. "Consider it done. I'll keep the area covered and guide the drops."

Danse gave a firm nod, his tone resolute. "With all teams in position—front, rear, and aerial—Menendez won't have a chance to escape. This operation depends on precise timing and execution. Let's make it happen."

Before the room could fall silent, Woods, ever the blunt one, leaned forward and broke the focus with a sharp question. "Alright, so let's say we take Menendez alive. Then what? We kill that son of a bitch, right?" His tone was gruff, filled with frustration and a soldier's raw edge. "After everything he's done, that bastard deserves nothing less."

Hudson, standing near the table, turned toward Woods, his expression calm but firm. "No," he said, his voice cutting through the tension. "We arrest him. We aren't barbarians who kill whoever we want." He paused, his gaze hardening as he addressed the room. "There's already been enough bloodshed in Piltover. If we want to rebuild this city—rebuild trust—we need to show that we're better than the chaos Menendez thrives on."

Woods let out a scoff, shaking his head in disapproval. "Yeah, because locking him up is gonna make up for the lives he's taken. People like Menendez don't change, Hudson."

Hudson's tone didn't waver. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we stoop to his level. The people of Piltover need to see justice, not vengeance. They need to see that we're capable of holding even the worst accountable without crossing that line."

Woods crossed his arms, his scowl deep. "Sure. Let's throw him in a fucking jail cell and hope he doesn't find a way to burn the whole damn city down from behind bars," he muttered sarcastically.

Caitlyn interjected, her voice calm but decisive. "Hudson's right. Menendez thrives on chaos and fear. If we execute him in the field, we risk turning him into a martyr. The best way to defeat him is to strip him of his power and let justice take its course."

Woods glanced at Caitlyn but didn't argue further, his frustration evident in the way he tapped his fingers on the table.

Brimstone, standing near the holographic display, cleared his throat. "Enough. We focus on the mission. Apprehend Menendez and bring him in. Let's leave the rest to the council and the courts."

The room quieted, the team's focus slowly returning to the task ahead. Despite the tension, the mission's purpose was clear—Menendez would be brought to justice, but on Piltover's terms.

Maxson stepped forward, his commanding presence drawing the room's attention. "If there's nothing else," he said, his voice firm, "I suggest you move now before Menendez decides to vanish without a trace. You are dismissed. Ad victoriam."

The team nodded in unison, their determination evident as they began filing out of the debriefing room. Master Chief lingered for a moment longer, stepping toward the table where Cortana's holographic form shimmered. Without a word, he reached to the back of his helmet and retrieved a small, intricate chip.

Cortana's expression softened into a smile as she flickered briefly, her voice carrying a playful warmth. "Good to see you again, Chief. Ready for another adventure?"

Master Chief remained unfazed, his stoic demeanor unbroken as he simply extended his hand. Cortana's holographic form dissolved, her blue shimmer disappearing into the chip. With practiced precision, Chief inserted the chip back into the slot at the base of his helmet.

As it clicked into place, Cortana's voice returned, this time private and directed to him alone. "Back again inside of that helmet of yours. Did you miss me?" she asked lightly, the faintest hint of affection in her tone.

He responded in his signature stoic manner, his voice low and controlled. "Let's keep focused." Master Chief turned afoot towards the door catching up with the rest of the team.

Maxson, observing the exchange, crossed his arms and spoke, his tone carrying a hint of disapproval. "Be sure you don't let yourself get distracted by that AI, Spartan. We can't afford any lapses."

Master Chief stopped himself as he turned his helmet slightly toward Maxson, his green visor catching the room's light, before responding coldly. "I don't get distracted." Without waiting for a reply, he continued to walk, his heavy footsteps echoing as he moved toward the exit to join the others.

Maxson watched him go, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the holographic map, the weight of the mission pressing on his shoulders.