Chai Zan always stood on edge. His administrative duties in China's propagation of the ASEAN War led him to regular interaction with Noble Arms Masters. Even still, the Chinese government hadn't supported him with the authority necessary to command respect from those he approached. And so Zan developed a mild paranoia, a mental alarm that signaled whenever a threat was nearby.

On this particular day, Chai Zan passed gently towards his modest personal office, his briefcase in tow. As he entered one end of a main hallway, Zan froze in place, paralyzed by the blare ringing throughout his skull. A Party official if rubbed the wrong way might demand Chai's death, which would be scheduled in a couple days. At least then Chai would have the opportunity to plead for his life, flee the country, or all else failing say his goodbyes to his family. The man who stormed out the other end of the hallway was far worse: Noble Arms Master Ren Zhao. It was cause enough for alarm that this particular Noble Arms Master could end his life with a thought, for his own personal enjoyment. Beyond that, though, Master Ren seemed quite furious today.

Zan scanned for safe, inconspicuous exits and found none. If he could slip by, perhaps Master Ren would be too preoccupied to notice. He forced himself forward. For the first few moments, it appeared that Chai's plan was going to work. Then, at a couple meters' pace, Ren Zhao's gaze jolted to meet Zan's nervous stare. "You! Do you know who I am?"

Chai swallowed. "Y-yes, sir. You are Ren Zhao, Noble Arms Master."

Ren held his chin up and gazed down upon Chai. The foreboding glare was unnecessary but nonetheless effective. "And do you not think I am powerful, and wise?"

"Very powerful and wise, sir."

"Pah!" Ren announced. "If a commoner like you can see this, why can't the highest echelons of the Party?" he shook his head. "Tell me, why did Lingayen fail?"

Paltry supply, abysmal coordination, inadequate counters to defensive forces, and a broad overestimation of the enemy. Obviously. Still, his superiors would never know Chai's assessment. In this environment, honesty meant execution. "I don't know, sir. What is the reason?"

"Lack of sound leadership, poor decision making!" Zan knew the accusatory finger pointed squarely at him was meant for those with higher rank. "They can't see talent; they never could. Mark my words, when they face the fire of combat, China will come to regret the leadership they've chosen in the Zodiac."

Those were treasonous words. Dangerous words, indeed. Still more precarious would be to call Master Ren out on his impetuousness. And so, Ren neither agreed nor disagreed. He bowed a quiet "good morning" and briskly walked off to his office. He heard the master scoff and stomp off to more important matters. Zan had successfully survived an encounter with a Noble Arms Master.

He opened his door, stared at his desk, and promptly dropped his briefcase, jaw agape. His job, his duty, was to assess morale in the army, and to process complaints of various crimes against the state, specifically in the province of Fujian. These complaints came in the form of singular pages, summarizing the issue and providing contact information to discuss the matter directly. If Chai's authority allowed, he was to deal with the situation quietly. He was one of many, in fact, and the even distribution of duties culminated in two or three papers in his tray on any given morning.

The stack today was an inch thick.

"Insubordination!" exclaimed one. "I found misplaced rations on a ship bound for the South China Sea. I demanded that the nearby soldiers seize these supplies at once, and they refused me! I approached the Noble Arms Master on lease and ordered her to discipline the troops, and she gave me an unspeakable gesture. I demand retribution!"

"Desertion!" cried another. "A squadron of soldiers have abandoned their posts, taking their arms and ammunition with them! Two dozen Type 63s are no longer in our control! My colleague in Zhanjiang reports a similar desertion. Take care of this!"

"I posted daily orders on the wall outside my office. Some radical painted 'hao hao hao' over the papers! I am currently addressing the issue, but I need surveillance to catch the miscreant!"

"The soldiers of neighboring garrisons are using official naval communications to spread harmful anti-Chinese propaganda! It's greatly damaging morale!"

The complaints flowed together into a sludge of depressing news, gumming up Zan's mental faculties as to which one he ought to manage first, and how. He put his hands to his face to provide himself time to think in the dark.

Something clicked in his head, and he looked up. Supplies. Men. Ammunition. All in and around the South China Sea. Jammed comms in the area? That couldn't be just a coincidence. Zan parsed through more complaints, looking for a through line. He spent an hour fabricating his theory from the dozens of papers now strewn across his desk. He didn't have the specifics, but he had very, very clear evidence of potential revolt in the ranks. There must have been at least two Noble Arms Masters involved, maybe three, maybe more! Chai had never handled a threat of this magnitude before.

He picked up a phone and dialed a number. It was the highest authority he could contact. Surely his superior wouldn't turn down this valuable information; he would take care of the situation. Right? There must be something. Chai Zan stood up with anticipation, shaking his head, pacing back and forth as the wire on the telephone would allow. He couldn't afford this much anxiety.

"Yes?" demanded the operator.

"Urgent message; take me to the Senior Field Officer. I think there's a splinter group within the People's Liberation Army that's trying to-"

"First Lieutenant Chai?" That voice was not the operator. That voice was not the Senior Field Officer. It was... a calculating voice.

"W-who is this?" Chai stammered.

"Your conspiracy." The phone clicked off.

Chai Zan dropped his phone, speechless. Zan knew just what a Noble Arms Master could do to an ordinary man like himself. Whatever happened, he would be silenced. His report would reach no one. The rebellion will happen, and all China would find out that he knew. He would have had to have known, wouldn't he? And so the blame of this failure would be placed squarely on his shoulders. He would be executed, along with his family. Truly, there was no way to escape death. And so, Chai reached into his drawer and pulled out his service-issue pistol. He had never fired the weapon outside his training. He looked down the barrel, his hands shaking. He loaded it, then held it to his temple. These rebels will not have the pleasure of taking him, or of besmirching his honor. He took a deep breath, welling up what strength he had left, releasing it in one final great shout: "Gòngchǎndǎng wànsuì!"

Thus departed Major Chai Zan of the Central Investigation Department, perhaps one of the last faithful public servants the People's Republic of China would ever know.

Sporting a thin, passive grin, Mei Yuanyuan gazed out her window at hurried soldiers jogging through the concrete square beneath her. From so many stories up, they appeared so miniscule. These ants had an energy to them, a spring in their step. The propaganda had worked too well, it seemed. She entertained the thought of breaking the glass, reaching out her fingers, and flattening the insects underneath her palm. The concept amused her.
Notably, one soldier carried a large crate of ammunition. He bumped into his senior officer, and the cartridges inside scattered on the ground like sand particles. She heard the shouts of the man's superior through the windowpane. The culminating slap put a little tooth in her smile. She could watch these minions for days, and likely would have were she not in the presence of...
Cao Bao spit out his drink, the clear liquid splattering on the floor. He sniffed his glass. "Putrid stuff."
Mei glanced back, peering at him with the corner of her eye. She shared a rather casual enclosure with him, complete with sofas, a sink station, and a low wooden coffee table. "What, did you think they'd save the world's finest for the waiting room of a squalid, overcrowded naval base?"
"Fair point." Bao commented. He dumped the remnant in a local sink and casually rinsed it. He closed his eyes momentarily and tried to focus. He held out his hands, and a tinted bottle materialized, its bottom in his left and its neck in his right. He popped open the cork and refilled his cup. "Want some?"
"Well, what is it?"
Bao held up the bottle. A couple handwritten characters comprised the entire label. "Rice wine."
"So that's your power? Fabrication?"
"No, it's to claim from the farmer who made it." Bao fetched another cup and inspected it for cleanliness.
"Can you return it to its proper place?"
Bao set the glass on a table beside Yuanyuan, and his bottle closer to himself. "It's sixteen hours' drive to Anhui Province."
Then the stolen goods weren't returnable. The theft couldn't be helped, Mei surmised. "Very well; pour me a glass."
Master Cao stretched out his hands, and a second bottle blipped into existence. He popped its cork and poured Yuanyuan her beverage.
"Sharing was acceptable," Yuanyuan commented.
Bao grabbed the first bottle by the neck, holding his free hand over his heart. "This is my bottle. You get your own."
"That's some farmer's belongings!" Yuanyuan exclaimed.
"He was zīchǎn jiējí de, anyways," Bao defended. "Who else pays for this quality of rice wine?" He took a sip from his glass. "Honestly, he probably drunk it already. Boy, that's good, that is."
"What do you mean, 'drunk it already'?"
Bao shook his head. "Enjoy the wine. Forget I said anything."
Mei's attention was once again drawn away to the frenzy of logistics. "So, they just sent me cash and assigned me to station here. They weren't fully transparent about the details. Who exactly are we fighting?"
"Arms Masters," Bao stated. Whether he didn't know either or simply refused to elaborate was up to speculation.
A knock came from the door to the room. Mei arose to answer it. A bespectacled man stood in the doorway and gave a curt bow. "This is the waiting room, correct?"
"Yes..." Mei responded hesitantly. "And who are you?"
"Excellent!" the man announced. "I hoped to indulge myself in certain relaxations in the time between fronts." He found himself a sofa and kicked up onto it.
Mei closed the door but remained at the doorway. The man was confident enough to possess answers, whether or not those answers were accurate. "Do you know where we're going, what we're doing?"
"Certainly!" the stranger answered. "From what I've heard, there's an individual who's established shop in the South China Sea and claims to be heir to the most recent imperial dynasty."
"They can handle the entire world thrown against them," Bao elaborated, "but they can't stand a challenge to their power from within."
"And they don't want to drum up support among any disgruntled ranks?" Mei queried.
"Precisely; that's why talk of this has been limited to the uppermost echelons of command," the man affirmed. "Everyone is ordered to prepare for something, but they organize in the dark." He inspected the writing on one of Bao's bottles. "Rice wine! May I?"
"So what preparation do we need to make?" asked Mei.
Bao turned around to face her. "Does your Noble Arm require ammunition?"
"Not particularly."
"Or recharge?"
"I don't think so."
"You're fine," Bao callously assured, returning to his normal posture.
Mei returned to the window while the man with glasses served himself. Her fingers touched the pane while she watched perhaps a tad more closely. Crates of guns were offloaded, but in half a dozen different models and makes. The soldiers practicing drills in the square kept their heads down towards the pavement as they stepped in rhythm. The boats that were currently being loaded... the sloop she bore as her Noble Arm was twice as capable as each of them.
She realized that these weren't soldiers. This was fodder, meant as a mere distraction while the loyal and treasonous Masters duked it out amongst each other. Thousands were going to die for a small scrap of sand in the South China Sea, even to an unsure outcome.
Yuanyuan stretched. Oh well. Ants die; that's the nature of ants. She wasn't paid to fret over such trivialities. She routed to fetch a third glass, then filled her new cup with her old bottle. "Gentlemen, this gathering deserves a toast. To our success in... What's our target?"
"They call it 'Mischief Reef,' so I recall," the mysterious man replied.
"Then, to victory in Mischief Reef!"

Power: A
Speed: C
Range: F (S)
Persistence: C
Precision: C
Potential: B