[center][h1][color=RosyBrown]Adam Stanislaw Kajtanowicz[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h1][color=Goldenrod]Athena Anna Kanataario[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h1][color=Chocolate]Purna Chai Gurung[/color][/h1][/center]

[center][h1]Briefing Room[/h1][/center]
[center][h2]1800 Local Time[/h2][/center]

Adam looked around the room, with the range of questions coming in. Chuck and Ebrima had valid points, and he could address them in turn. Ebrima answering one point first, which he agreed with.

"Chuck, Ebrima makes that point. They'll hide, do what they have to, but same time, we need to be careful. Current rule of engagement is that anyone armed is a target, unless they're surrendering Gendarmes or Army. Before we go hot with the heavies, we'll issue a warning to the local Gendarmes, via Interpol, and Oracle the same to the Moroccan Armed Forces, by which point we'll be engaging inside the garden and on the exit, they'll be aware of our presence. Blue Sword similarly will manage the local interactions. They won't be happy, but then again, Raven can pull strings where we need it. With the situation as it is, we can't afford any risk. I do not like it any more than you do, so be careful and let's just keep fire as much as we can to the gardens, rather than beyond. Any overspill and well, then they will know." Adam replied, with Ebrima's further comment being one to also move onto. 

"Good point, Ebrima. That's why we have Sam. She's an electronic warfare specialist, and with Purna, she'll deal with the drone presence. I imagine they'll have a couple of UAVs on overwatch, but considering the density of the market, our presence should be fairly limited, as it's only us that need covering. By the time we're attacking, I want them to know where they're coming from. So if Sam can keep the feeds away from our direction, or at least, interfere, we'll be set. We'll need to jam them on exfil, and make sure they don't follow us to the airport." Adam added, filling in the detail, hoping the two were happy with the answers.

"Good. We're gearing up in four hours. Sort out any remaining bits you have to do, and be ready for deployment. This is a sensitive one. But if overspill happens, we're going to need to adapt. So be ready for a fight." 

[hr]

[center][h1]The Armoury[/h1][/center]
[center][h2]0000 Local Time[/h2][/center]

[center][h1]Lock and Load[/h1][/center]

The team continued to gear up, and there was no shortage of hype, feeling and ready here. The stakes were high, and they all knew they had their specialised jobs to do. But in the end, all things could go wrong. It could be their last. It could be the end of Artemis, or them. It didn't matter. Job was going to be done, and Adam checked on each, from Athena, Jamie and Oliver, to Purna and Sam, to finally, Ebrima.
 
He saw Ebrima in the zone, finishing up with his MDR, and the drum mags for his shotgun. 
"Good to go?" Adam asked, moving across, looking to Purna, Athena, and Jamie in the far corner.
"Been a while since I've been in Africa. So don't be offended if I ask for help in French, heh?" Adam chuckled, knowing Ebrima was more the local, even if Cameroon may as well have been as far from Morocco as it was to South Africa, it was still, a Francophone city with heavy Arabic and Berber influence.

Across the room, Athena noted Jamie gearing up, chatting to himself, but then, calibrating his suit, gearing up his tools and bringing them into the fold. He seemed assured, everything set right, and well, imposing. There's a certain mechanical feel to his armour, more industrial, punk. He lives for that shit. Athena likes it plenty, even if it's not her taste, considering hers seems a little more refined.
"Not bad, JamJam." Athena said, chuckling as she smirked, putting her armoured paw on his shoulder. Athena's armour felt like a leveller, and well, she had missed it. Her face poking out of it may have seemed odd to her social followers, but then again, a body like this didn't go to waste. 
"She'd be proud. Me and you fucking up things together. Just like old times." She giggled, smirking as she checked the pad on her arm, a secondary unit to her HUD arranged setup, the suit flexing and the coil gently whining, like a muted pitch ready to blast, even the jumpjets having this gentle hiss that was unlike Freya's. While her suit could go invisible, even silent with the right adaptations, Athena made no such effort, and neither did Jamie.

Across the room from there, Purna looked to Sam, chuckling as he replied in his own Arabic, rusty but coming back quickly to fruition.
"Simply a vision, darling niece." He smiled, a rare crack in his turn, but well, the Nepali was certainly happy he wasn't alone. Getting a leather pack, he filled the rest of his equipment load into that, and with it, got ready to go. The grappling hook latched into his left forearm, the pad on his right, he felt prepared, readied, feeling it. Even the dust and dirt felt worn into the robes and wrap, and it felt like he was readied for it. Like a Ghillie suit, almost as if this was blending into a landscape, this was to actually blend into the medina.

[hr]

[u][i][b][center][h1]Part Five: Rock the Kasbah[/h1][/center][/b][/i][/u]

[hr]

[center][h1]Souk Semmarine, Marrakesh, Morocco[/h1][/center]
[center][h2]1330 Local Time[/h2][/center]

[center][h2]Made in Medina[/h2][/center]

[center][h2][url=
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BY-y-vyzLhw]Tinariwen- Talyat Girl[/url][/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://www.villasmarrakech.com/images/magazine/article_1178_5845_1607687792.jpg[/img][/center]

Sipping down the tea from the glass, Purna looked over to Sam, his covering down from over his face. Moroccan freshmint tea hit different, Purna not having been in the Arab or Northern African world for a while, but well, it was good to be back. For that tea, especially. It's a brilliant thing, sugary, cooly-flavoured tea that was very hot, yet with the mint, joyous. Even in the searing 30C heat, which felt like it infected any piece out of the shade. It's a manic place. Continuous non-white noise, the sound of horns, drums, talking, shouting, mopeds, yet in the cafe, it almost feels like a setback form all of it, looking on at the madness whilst in a cosy, gentle little environment in an alcove. They had to stop somewhere, and it made sense to stop in a place that locals would go to hide from the mid-day beating sun, the clay and tiled walls and the gentle smell of lamb, humus and mint filling the place.

"This is incredible. Very refreshing. So much sugar, though." Purna smiled to her and spoke in a soft Arabic, already feeling like she got this whole line of work- it was good to be with a professional, even if he was a sole operative, she was not a bad partner to pick from already. Sam was a natural- in her henna and Kuhl, with her wrapping, she fit perfectly, mysterious yet beautiful beneath it, like an allure of someone that knew how to fit in, but still hid it away in spite. Women in this part of the world weren't respected perhaps like a typical Western country, and whilst in the street plenty could be seen without headdresses and tourists modestly dressed also, this was far more conservative, controlled a society that Purna full well understood had not changed for centuries. Nepal the same, but he'd seen enough. She fit the part, and therefore, no eyes would be cast on them both. The robe wearing Nepali drank down a bit more tea, the hot, very sugary, very smooth beverage clearing his throat and a perfect stop as he checked his watch one more time, and then looked back across to her.

"I think it is time we move. I'll keep you close. Let's play the part." Purna smiled, and with it, adjusted his headrobe's covering, using it to at least mask his neck keeping his lighly-clay like complexion visible, as he stood, moving back across to where his pack was, a traditional cloth sack containing of all things, bundled C4, climbing kit, knockout canisters and a couple of gas rebreathers. For target interdiction, it always helped- he knew Sam had much the same tricks. And here they were, leaving the cafe and going back out into the chaos that Chaos would either adore, or hate. Adjusting his throat comms, and the headset in his cowl covered fully by the headrobe, he could talk to Sam without it being too obvious.

"Tourists must come here thinking this is another world. This reminds me of home. Markets, people trying to make a living, kind yet having not much." Purna commented, the Nepali worldly, as they trickled through, most tourists getting stopped, military stopping even a few given the security measures in place, but leaving Purna and Sam completely, utterly alone. They were carrying packs, full of what looked like goods, and appeared to be headed to their own stall. On that thought, Purna went through their segment of the plan.

"We know what to do. I'll go and find and confirm the location of Henry, and sneak in. On your hand, you have drones to sort, and their server network to unravel. Between you and me....our boss, he overprescribes. You know what to do. And you'll find your own way. We are hunter-killers. So you hunt them...I kill." He added, going over the rough plan, the sound of hundreds of people drowning out anything if anyone were to even try eavesdropping in this place.

The two moved through the Souk, and not an eye even batted them. Purna held onto her her hand, looking back and knowing it fit the optics. Vendors did not try and sell them anything, as Purna kept a move on. Armed men were scattered throughout the souk, a mix of local Gendarmes, or military police, actual Moroccan Army soldiers, the grey-robe and headdress wearing Nepali looking so Berber he may as well have gone the extra stint and started to sell leather bags here. His companion too, and well, it was like an art that almost felt easy to keep up with. In the crowds looking for special forces teams, they simply seemed to dissolve.

With it, they made their way through the maze of structures, the dusty, choked souk where you could buy anything from beautiful pottery, leather, carpets, fake Rolexes and Argan Oils giving way to the hidden garden, La Jardin Villeneuve. Such a generic name, for such a beautiful place, but it was barriered off, Moroccan Army posted outside in number, keeping a presence, likely corrupt soldiers on Artemis's bought payroll, if not just using it as a disguise. The garden was sealed, with tall walls, but well, like that would stop the two. The roof above the souk here was tin-lined yet the garden was open to air, and Purna looked on, then back to Sam.
"This is us. Okay, my camera is active, plus I should be networked to your software." Purna added, moving with the crowd as he pulled Sam in close, hugging her, looking direct into her eyes. He may not have been the tech whizz that she was, but, there was no doubting his infiltration talent. The guy was a ghost, and even in plain sight, he made it seem so easy and casual how he interacted with her.
"All yours. As soon as I find a computer network, I'll get you in on that and you can start to disrupt them, and their drones. I'll install explosive charges on any security measures inside, and kill anyone behind that door that could be an issue. On my signal, those guards outside will turn when the door opens, and you have an opportunity....or, you find a way in yourself into the garden. We then need to move, fast, and get ready for Boaro and Wilk to free the target." Purna let go of the hug, and with it, nodded, a smile on his face as he turned, and left Sam behind.

With it, cutting through the shop to their side, Purna left Sam there in the alley, and cut in, moving at a quick walk, the shop owner confused as Purna hustled through and headed through the back door, running up a set of stairs, into an apartment complex. Ditching the robe and the headdress, he revealed his Mk14 and MP5, the pack on his back getting thrown onto a stairset as he yanked the tactical pack out of that, in turn leaving it in the corner of the room inside a clay pot and hustling the stairs. The shop owner was long behind, as he broke into a run, pacing up the stairs, and up to the top.

Coming out on the roof, Purna saw the garden proper, and took a breather. It was only a small segment, but an oasis of green and colour, filled with automated turrets, containers, tents, barracks and most importantly, somewhere in the house proper at the end, the person they were here to recover. And a large white tent, a geodesic dome in fact, right in the centre- a larger structure that stuck out like a brick on the moon. Rather than dwell, Purna's bottom half suddenly disappeared, the Nepali drawing his MP5 into hand as that disappeared too, then his chest, arms, and finally, his head and NVG covered eyes, set to an augmented visible spectrum while he was completely off it. With it, he broke into a run and as a thin blur, darted across the last few rooftops, before using his grapple to lynch straight onto a palm tree inside the garden, and with a swan dive, blur his way straight in, the active camo breaking but re-rendering at halt when he flung himself into the tree, using the line to anchor himself in. There's almost a gymnastic pride to his movement, if the mediums are fast with their exos, then Purna is straight up not even there at all, looking inside and taking a look. 
"Inside, Chaos. We have a lot of hostiles here. Be careful." 

[img]https://dynamic-media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-o/0a/e3/dd/94/le-jardin-secret.jpg?w=1200&h=-1&s=1[/img]

[hr]

[center][h2]1345 Local Time[/h2][/center]
[center][h2]Rooftop Hustle[/h2][/center]
[center][h2][url=
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WCWzMfBVlM]Iron Mountain[/url][/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://www.originaltravel.co.uk/travel-blog/ShowPhoto/4004/0[/img][/center]

Adam readied up at the door and looked back to Ebrima. The man might be a warrior in guerrilla warfare, and without an exo in the market a hell of an asset. But up here, he would be invaluable- and far more lethal than down in the streets. With the cut and thrust of close quarters work coming up soon when they headed into the garden, dropping in and unravelling hell from the two would be important- the usual mix of a mediums' speed and aggression. It would be just two of them going in and recovering Henry after all, whilst the Heavies soaked up the actual security at front of house, and the lights covered the door into the Souk, where no doubt there were plenty of guards, sentries and other defences. He felt confident, but of course, there was always an air of change in the air, as Adam peeked.

Pushing forwards, the rooftops were bare considering the insanely baking heat that seemed to burn hard in the light. Different levels, clay, rock, sand, all of it mixing to make the tapestry of Marrakesh's wider Medina, above the chaotic Souk down below.

"Let's get a move on. Chaos and Viper have our target confirmed, charges in place, drone isn't looking at us for a little while. We just need to get there and recover Henry." Adam called to Ebrima, moving up to the next, the noise of the souk loud even from above, drowning in noise and nobody of any sane disposition up here. Guards, and then a few others.

And with it, they got a move on. Breaking into a run, Adam used the exo to fling across from one roof to the next, over the tin and cloth below in the alley to the next, skidding in and down to a stop behind a clay wall when he spotted another group of contacts watching over in the distance. Bringing the MSBS to shoulder, he sent a ping over to Ebrima, highlighting the hostiles.
"Contacts, eleven o'clock. Man on the right is mine. All yours for the left. On your mark..." The Pole called out, seeing the man in the ramshackle cover about 100m away, up ahead. On Ebrima's mark, Adam followed.

With a plink, the rifle clipped the man's neck and spat out the other side, even his tactical getup doing nothing against 7.62mm armour-piercing rounds. Adam looked to Ebrima, nodding, and with it, looking across. Ebrima was the merc with specialism in these environments, far more so than Adam's experience of the Middle East. 
"On your lead, Boaro. Post's that way, and we have rooftops to cover. Let's get to an overwatch of the garden, then run me through how many of them you want to fuck up. I always wanted to see what a real Guérillero comes up with." Adam let his usual planning, calculated side down, knowing that in this very specific instance, he'd let Ebrima do what he did. 

The rooftops were layered, bits lower, bits higher, bits missing cover entirely but roughly two to three storeys above the market itself, structures interwoven, tiny alleys ranging between half a meter gap to four meters of gap, sometimes with tin, sometimes with textile and carpet, sometimes with nothing. There's this real air that with just more neon and rain, it's like Cyberpunk. But it isn't, it's ridiculously hot, and there was a job to be done, as Adam kept his exo on, ready to follow Ebrima over the gaps, even with the added weight of the force generator carried on the suit's pack. 

It was an environment that did not suit fighting in the souk proper, especially with the sheer volume of civilians, but once the attack started, they'd be raising hell and there would be a lot of runners, but the garden would be where it would be concentrated into. Any drones in the sky weren't going to look at Ebrima and Adam's way in thanks to the lights efforts, and more so, the mediums would be in luck, able to take advantage of the chaos, get in close and recover Henry, any intel and anything else on site.

[hr]

[center][h2]1355 Local Time[/h2][/center]
[center][h2]Kick the Doors Down[/h2][/center]

[center][h2][url=
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZvPoE0EH1o]Mdou Moctar- Tarhatazed[/url][/h2][/center]

[img]https://www.flyingfourchette.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Marrakesh-146-1024x731.jpg[/img]

Inside the truck, the driver looked into the back, the titans idle but ready to now go. The radio call had come through from Adam's encrypted link, and he held it in lieu of the fact that the Heavies would likely have wanted it for themselves. Still, a local fixer like him, a Blue Sword driver working with Athena, made it easy to blend in while on his rounds. The truck itself was parked across the street, the street right on the fringe of the deep, mean Souk, and was barely wide enough to fit two vehicles through. Whilst not as packed as the souk proper with tin roofing and sheeting, it was still claustrophobic, and busy enough to feel like you couldn't breathe easy, well, aside from the grounds of the garden giving reprieve.

"Okay, go time. Front door is yours, boss man says raise hell." The driver said, the sound of explosions audible within the garden. The party had started. The mediums were in. The lights had long been setting off stuff. Now, just the cork in the bottle. Jamie, Chuck and Oliver had the job of charging through the front door, past the corrupt Moroccan Army presence with what looked like four MRAP vehicles with remote turrets, at least two dozen soldiers blended with Artemis operatives, and through a small annex of the house itself into the Garden. A heavy was near the front, at least six and a half foot in height, and armed with a minigun and Trophy of his own, would be a formidable threat. 

[hr]

On the other side of the souk in Jema El-Fnaa, Athena was of a similar mindset in her own armoured truck, the shell-like interior of the MRAP with a singular bench for her a place to get ready, alone. Her blonde hair in a bun, she took the helm and put it firm over head, locking it into the membrane within, clicking her neck and her armoured fingers, feeling like she practically occupied every square inch in here already. She's got this aura to her, like Freya, but well, in the business. Looking at the wall, she couldn't see anything but someone in replacement of her sister. And well, someone to end this. Athena had that feeling of duty all of a sudden, instead of running things in the background, to actually get it done. She had heard what Oracle had to say. This had to end, and her team would see to it. No fuck ups, not anymore.

With herself bent in two to crouch down, she put hand forward and pushed on the door, leaping out of the pack with head tall and spine straight, where a couple more Blue Sword soldiers had already embarked, dressed in light desert fatigues, plate carriers, helmets and armed up with SIG MCX rifles, a choice mirrored by the prior Skye Lyons. Athena towered over them, all seven and a half foot of her, coil in one hand, expression inside firm, ventilation at max, because she was sweating like a motherfucker in that truck.

"All Blue Sword security teams, tighten the noose. Any armed personnel aren't to leave. Brief just got sent to local police, so anyone that raises a gun at you, take them out. Anyone that isn't armed, tell them to run. We're on the look out for HVTs, and suspect Artemis operatives, so keep your eyes peeled. Let's get it done." Athena boomed into the comms, her confident extraversion now like lightening. With it, the coils on her pack whined, this deep, yet pitched whine that left nothing to any onlookers. Civilians were on the move, running away from the explosions, locals, and well, between them and the rest were Gendarmes. The large square was packed full of stalls, vendors and Royal Moroccan Army, and well, it would be a chaotic crossfire here. But it was what Artemis wanted. Sow so much chaos that no easy way out could be found. Adam, and Athena disagreed. This was about creating fewer options for runners, and with the main team inside, all Athena's crews and her had to do was hold the line and their way out. There was nowhere for Artemis to run out of the lion's den. Athena stood tall and above the civilians, and made it very, very clear, that you ran, or you got in her way.