Mission Two: Siege of Mischief Reef

Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 6:08 UTC+8

Noel nodded and said, "That last part is true, Ms. Qingshe, which is why we're also bringing in a recent addition to the Government's ranks; a Special Agent who fought alongside me in the deposition of the previous President after his treachery was exposed."

To tell the truth, his feelings about that man were... confused. On the one hand, Myron seemed like a decent person; certainly of help in the foundation and consolidation of the Government of National Salvation. On the other hand, he was a former terrorist, one who had murdered Arms Masters like himself before becoming one in turn. Nevertheless, as he looked towards the back of the stage, theatrically gesturing in their newcomer, Noel would not mince words as he spoke, "Members of Task Force Obsidian, let me introduce to you Special Agent Myron Makaraig, former normal person, former normal person terrorist, and murderer of Arms Masters through backstabs, poison, and overall treachery before growing a Noble Arm himself and applying for amnesty."

As the young man, with glossy, gelled black hair, walked in, his dark blue suit and leather shoes were immaculate as he entered the stage. Seemingly unfazed, even proud of the insults that Noel had hurled towards him, Myron turned, faced the stage, and bowed towards the group for a moment before getting up and facing Qingshe, Kaitlyn, and Ayahime with a smile as he said, "Greetings. My name is Myron Makaraig, a former member of the Disablers; we claimed to stand for normal people against Arms Master supremacy, and I used my cute looks to lure Arms Masters in all protective so that they can be shot, stabbed, or even blown up - I can resume doing so at any time as long as I stay handsome."

His grin widened as he continued with relish, "Don't worry, as an Arms Master myself now, you don't have to fear that from me... Or do you?" he chuckled a little, before manifesting his own Noble Arm, a small circular shield. "This is Inpormasyon, aka Information. It converts objects and people into data and can transfer them through electronic communications like radio or the Internet. That means that if the enemy does not have a firewall or an antivirus, I can literally email you guys to their ships after your twelve hours of preparation are up."

Looking at Qingshe, then Lotus Squadron, Myron answered the question on air support for his young... friend(?) by saying, "The Philippine Air Force will be deploying its six remaining KAI-T50 - FA-50PH Variants - to aid Lotus Squadron, while Indonesia will be sending out the same number of Dassault Rafale jets. I know it's inadequate, but with all due respect - We're the underdogs here; we lack equipment and despite the fallout from the Crisis of 1988, China has spent a lot of resources lulling us to sleep and our military doctrine was oriented towards fighting... Internal enemies."

Noel decided to pop Myron's bubble with a well-pointed remark, "Yes, yes, we know you were there when the Hammer and Disablers were using our country as their sandbox for developing terrorist tactics. Moving on..." He responded directly to Qingshe, "We know that the Chinese know and we anticipate treachery en route to the ship and on the ship itself. That's why we gave Myron an amnesty; he's at least a countryman and he knows how skullduggery works."

Qingshe then received a message from a secure channel; it was 'His Imperial Majesty', Jin Li of the House of Aisin Goro, aka the Qing Dynasty's clan. It said, We've established an internet connection to the outside. The window is 25 - 30 minutes. Has Myron introduced himself already? If so, suggest to our allies that they should go to where we are right now; make the idea sound like your own.

Myron has already packed the supplies we need.

Noel then looked at Callie and finally gave a response to her words, "Approved. I suggest Volunteers Makri and Dorn, or possibly Nil, but we may need the latter to defend either the ship or Mischief Reef. I can also go myself if we really need someone who can bring on the pain..."

Looking at Princess Fukuyo of Japan, the young man said, "I can also form a team with you, if needed; you performed well against Huo Ren."

Then he turned to acknowledge Second Lieutenant Larsdottir and said, "Indeed, we should talk in private - I'm sure that you and I would fare better without the company of our... Amnestied friend. That, and I am under the impression that the enemy has probably guessed the bare outlines of our plan, even if their Intelligence Services weren't up to snuff - Which they are. So it would be best if only the two of us - And maybe Qingshe - know what contingencies to set up."

That said, he did have to give away some facts about 'Valkyrie', just to assuage Lotus Squadron and how they're only getting 12 extra Jets as their support, and so he told them, "Second Lieutenant Larsdottir also doubles as an aerial asset, one optimized for reconnaissance and interception. She can keep up with a dedicated aircraft at speed, and her smaller profile means that she can get into areas that larger objects can't. Not just that, but her affable and friendly personality allows her to work with almost anyone - I think you'll all like her."

As for Myron, he was looking at Callie with what seemed like shock, and an adept enough observer could see that his hands were trembling. He was not paying attention to Second Lieutenant Larsdottir right now, due to his focus on the blonde. Then the young man tore his gaze away from Callie and towards a newcomer - Iker Orozco, right? - before saying to him, "Volunteer Orozco. I will need your help in arranging contingencies as well."

If you can swallow working with a former terrorist and war criminal.

Then Noel answered Nico's question, "Honestly, it would probably be evening, yes, unless there is a way to hurry up the engagement. Note that it is perfectly plausible the relief mission can take place over multiple days, so we'll need both of your Noble Arms' modes."

As for what Nico said next, Noel visibly cringed and said, "Listen, we know when we can afford to be loose-lipped with valuable information and when we can't. With all due respect, I don't think you know the same - What happens if I order you to accept the Seven Virtues' offer? I'm not going to do so, but have you ever thought what would happen if I was the sort of person to do that?! And please don't reveal the name of the one who invented the Occult Programming Language, which is the source of Noble Arms and other forms of Magitech, to us all - Not that it isn't too late now!"

He sighed, "Change of plans. Myron, convert as many of us as you can into data - We're going to the Spratlys now before any spies realize they got a larger windfall than they already expected to have..."

@SkyHresvelg@Chiro@Aisede@Lewascan2@Sniblet@Conscripts@Gerlando@Creative Chaos@Nimbus@The Man Emperor@KaiserElectric @Landaus Five-One@QJT

---

Audience Hall, Sison Auditorium, Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 6:12 UTC+8

Did she imagine an edge in Private Lidmann's tone? How amusing. As the woman almost defensively spoke up to reassure onlookers of a personal value Qingshe honestly wasn't trying to besmirch so much as temper, the Snake simply listened without interruption. While it was good that Lidmann's demonstration proved she at least had the mind to best utilize what she had, Qingshe's real concern was not so much how far she could reach but whether she could maintain that reach for extended periods of conflict, like a battle at sea had every likelihood of being.

Instead of saying that however, she simply smiled mildly, as Callie's flow of words came to an end. "Well, I suppose confidence is an attractive trait... just as long as you know where your limits lay. As long as you avoid overreaching your expectations, I shall gladly look forward to seeing you live up to that advertisement of yours~." As for the other matter... "I can provide schematics for weaponry easily enough." Though, it was less that she'd gotten to study them in person and more that she had torn into her former allegiance's firewalls on the way out and taken any data she could find that wasn't nailed down. And then... "My shadow is more adept at controlling what I personally create. And unless they've degraded in common sense even more than I thought possible, the weaponry systems will be ones that require direct access to manipulate. Without the ability to wirelessly maintain control, that would leave me only able puppet one ship at a time." Unless Callie was holding in reserve the ability to form a vast, lasting network of portals. Shaking her head, Qingshe chuckled. "No, I do believe my efforts will be best spent elsewhere than a mobile insurgency team." Where exactly was still in question, but she already had some ideas... It would just be a matter of seeing what the final battle plan turned out to be.

Qingshe raised an inquisitive brow at one of the new faces among them, Sweden's "Valkyrie", a fellow big name and -at least in her books- A-Rank. The national symbol was standing there stiffly, looking quite uncomfortable in her relatively undecorated professional uniform. If Qingshe recalled rightly, her usual attire was something a lot... louder. The Snake smiled genuinely at realizing she was in the presence of someone that also took advantage of their status to oppose the degradation of individuality the military promoted, waggling a couple fingers in silent greeting. Her slitted green eyes crinkled in mirth, a hand rising to nonchalantly conceal the growing curl of her lips, when she processed the 2nd Lieutenant's words towards the 1st Lieutenant.

Did the poor girl realize the layer of innuendo she had just infused into the wording of that introduction? A part of Qingshe hoped not, because her sense of humor was irrevocably twisted by the need to dig out entertainment from everything... in a showmanship sense. It was like those virtual entertainers. What did they call them? V-Tubers? Yes, being able to make every other thing you say have a double meaning was a valuable talent in building a following. As a former member of The Zodiac, at least the capacity of a veritable "showpony", she knew this art well... Or maybe her mind was just a bit dirtier than she'd like to admit.

Ah, but if only the rest of the meeting could be taken with such humor. Her good mood was tempered, as she listened to Lotus Squadron's members pitching in and the response from Myron... Nothing he said was making her feel any better about the situation. It was more than clear to her now, that even with support from other ASEAN nation's navies and air forces, the coming battle was going to be a madhouse of a shitshow. Their airpower was still radically lacking compared to what the enemy could deploy... Hmmm... It seemed she might have just found where her focus was best aimed at rectifying.

Then the young man named Nico Makri spoke up, and a new twist was introduced. Qingshe blinked rapidly, unsure if she had just heard him correctly, consulting her most recent memory logs and then blinking again, before her pupils narrowed to even thinner slits in fascination at the man the Seven Virtues seemed to have elected for membership amongst their highest echelons... whether he wanted it or not. "Diligence, you say~?" She grinned in anticipation. "What else did he tell you? The Seven Virtues seem oh so loathe to step down from their clandestine little high tower to walk amongst us mere mortals, and the more we know about their inner workings, the better to pick their pesky interferences apart~." She sniffed. "Mou~, again with that 'Alan Turing' nonsense cropping up? Honestly, why can't that pest mind his own business? We're fighting a war here; his plots can wait."

Noel began to answer, and Qingshe found herself jolting internally in disbelief yet again. Even as their nominal leader berated Nico for just out and saying such potentially sensitive things, he, himself, proceeded to do much worse, as he elaborated even further on Alan Turing (someone most in the room had probably never even heard of, much less been aware of his significance) and even had the gall to propose that he could somehow order Nico to accept the Seven Virtues's offer. Her expression struggled to remain cheerful, as the First Lieutenant doubled down further still and seemed to almost panic order that, Myron, the man who'd he'd just finished radically disservicing in his introduction, the one who was getting more wary looks than not, should suddenly start transferring people to the Spratlys Islands now without any consultation. The absolute brass on this brat.

Wha-?! What happened to the plan?! What happened to resting for half a day?! Wait. Wasn't the place where the QRS was currently holed up a part of those islands? Qingshe restrained a snarl, as she realized Noel was most likely in on the gamble of the QRS's message to her. This was not happening. This would throw off the plan for the ASEAN alliance fleet, with the Philippines suddenly deprived of their biggest collection of available Arms Masters. What was Task Force Obsidian supposed to even do once they reached the island? Sit on their asses and be trapped under constant siege too with the alliance fleet far away? Those fools are going to make everything worse with their shortsighted impulsivity!

"You cannot be serious," the Snake uttered in a flat whisper, her tone at odds with the deceptive smile on her face.

And then... Private Price jumped in, and things started getting... sticky. Matters appeared to be degrading rather seriously, and unfortunately, despite her complete disinterest in trying to make that fop, Myron, look better, this wasn't acceptable. So, she spoke up, said her piece and retreated once more, annoyed at having to salvage such incompetence or else be a hypocrite. It didn't matter that only she would know to what degree that hypocrisy sank; it was simply a matter of what precious few morality-derived principles she had.

Still, if Qingshe wasn't certain before, she was now.

The First Lieutenant couldn't sell water to a man dying of thirst in a desert.

That boy should never be allowed to make inspirational speeches.

Or speeches you wanted to go anywhere positive really.

She hated this, being forced to intervene in such a manner. For all that she’d say she was pretty good at it, she didn't want to take charge... The temptation to keep going once she started was... simply too great. But how could she possibly stand by and watch a disaster in motion? She was supposed to have just been here as an R&D consultant, a medic and foreign contact... Instead, she was visiting frontlines, getting dragged into a slap-dash, rag-tag task force straight out of some fiction or another, and interfering in a foreign military’s command structure to stop it from falling apart, which was... There was so much wrong with this picture. All she wanted to do was uplift humanity, but what the hell had she been dragged into this time?

Honestly, the only silver lining to come out of this mess was that she could now send her own message back to the QRS and be almost completely truthful regarding why, exactly, they were not going to be receiving fresh Arms Masters ahead of the ASEAN fleet. And bonus: she didn't even have to tip-toe around the fact that, at this stage, she'd never let Myron put her in that damn shield unless the only other option was oblivion.

[Unfortunately, regardless of whatever plan you may have made with First Lieutenant Alonso behind my back-] Why yes, she was displeased. How could they tell?! [-during the briefing, the Task Force Obsidian members were promised a 12 hour grace period to get their affairs in order, before commencing transport via Philippine vessel. Furthermore, the introduction of the asset, Agent Makaraig, was bungled so direly by the First Lieutenant that it was all I could do to stop things from devolving into outright hostility. There is no chance the Task Force agrees to take advantage of your window for transport... even were it not so dangerously narrow and unstable to begin with. I can't possibly sell this to them in good faith. You'll just have to manage until the original plan pulls through.]

^{Right now I'm listening to: something kinda tense.}

Indra nods to Noel's response to her, and catches a stranger's eyes as they send her a wave. She replies with a little bow of her fingers, a-
oh-
Is she...
The- that woman. Her surprise is probably showing. Noel had said Qingshe and all, but she'd kind of...
(holy shit that really is Lei Qingshe isn't it?)
No- she's the kind of woman who'll make her regret staring like that. She drops her hand and overwrites whatever limp expression she'd had with a friendly smile, before turning back to watch the questions. This is going to be something to think about later.

The questions turn out to be kind of wacky. Starting with some Greek boy saying the Seven Virtues want him to lead them (they have a hierarchy?) and Noel's prompt reveal that Alan Turing is - what, like - the father of magic? - and then some woman with what appears to be a preteen in her lap and a private's badge starts questioning Noel's (admittedly weird, but) command and-
And fuckingLeiQingshe stands up for about three minutes of sarcastic-sounding monologue?

Indra is feeling... um.
Yeah, that about sums it up. She's also feeling the beginnings of a headache. Half of these words have slipped right past her and she doesn't know where to begin with processing. What she's sure of is that if this team is always like this there's going to be a problem.
She's not the first in command right now and hardly the most experienced with this team or the circumstances out here, but she's got a brass badge and she's thinking about that fight 12 hours away, which might make her unique in this room.

Second Lieutenant Larsdottir stands up.
"With respect to everyone here - I think it would be most productive right now to discuss the mission that's right in front of us. I don't know... what all this Disabler-shit means, besides that Makaraig needs to sit some time before I'd put anyone's life in his hands, and I don't think that's up for debate."
She takes a breath. The swear kind of slipped out. Everybody at home said that Arms Master officers are even worse than the "real thing" when they didn't think she was listening...
"What I'm thinking is, do we have any command structure outside of this room, or any way to coordinate right now with the rest of the force that'll be at Mischief Reef? It sounds like we're going into this seriously underpowered and on very short notice, so every second spent not planning is very probably a lot of lost lives."
She glances back to Noel, and directly addresses him.
"First thing I want to say in terms of concrete strategizing - I'm not much of an air-to-air asset. I don't throw guided missiles, so I'm not likely to even scare an aircraft unless I get very close. I'm artillery first. Thank you, though, for the, ah... affable personality comment."

She watches her immediate superior's expression for any sign that she's spoken out of turn. Everybody's doing that anyway, but it feels like a time for bad first impressions, and she'd rather not be one of them.


Hannie is withdrawing again. This back-and-forth and here-and-there all feels very complicated and ultimately seems to be about nothing at all. Kaitlyn seems to have it handled, though, so she settles in on one of the only other people who appear to have no interest in this discussion.
Is Nil making a new friend?

Kaitlyn's chin drops onto her head. She blinks.
Well. She can't go see Nil like this. She just watches from a distance, and hopes the strange man talking to her is being nice. He looks Chinese, but like in a real way, not like whatever the snake is...

Oh, look. Another strange woman stands up and starts talking.
She huffs. She's kind of used to sitting through long silly talks, but they never got fun at home, and they aren't any better here.

“Well, I suppose confidence is an attractive trait... just as long as you know where your limits lay. As long as you avoid overreaching your expectations, I shall gladly look forward to seeing you live up to that advertisement of yours~.” The words echoed in Callie’s mind even as Qingshe continued to speak.

Callie knew a lot about Lei Qingshe intellectually, of course – she’d been briefed on her fairly extensively. Her defection and presence in the theatre wasn’t a secret to those who knew how to look. She held in her head what information had been made public about her past, her powers and her modus operandi and what little could be dredged up by US intelligence from that which hadn’t. She knew, rationally – and had seen firsthand – that this was a canny Arms Master who, like most AMs on their level, had enough power behind her to wipe out everyone in this room with a thought.

Rationally. Now, for the first time in the meeting, a part of her came to the fore to viscerally identify that the woman before her was intelligent, wilful, terrifyingly strong and, yes, extremely beautiful. Unnervingly so, in fact.

She half-remembered a story told by one of the AMCs – an upper-class boy who’d been obsessed with Greek mythology. It was about a master sculptor who’d carved a statue of a woman so flawless that he’d fallen in love with it, and so prayed to the goddess of love to make it come to life. She’d laughed at the time. Now, though, her sight drawn to that hair of immaculate jade and those cold, fire opal eyes…

Oh, God, I was flirting with her before, wasn’t I? Barely even realised it – and now she’s… Nope. Bad! Bad Callie! She blinked again, firmly, to tear her gaze away, hoping beyond hope that she was imagining the warmth in her cheeks as she gave a nod to the two Arms Masters he had mentioned. “We’ll be up to the task, I’m sure, Lieutenant.” Forcing herself to retain her newfound focus, she inclined an eye back towards Qingshe. “We should talk afterwards, in any case.” No, NO, that’s not what I meant to – ! “The three of us with you – important to familiarise ourselves with what information you have, as well as each of us with the others’ capabilities.”

Saved it.

Yep. Definitely.

She shook her head, the tiniest of motions, desperately searching for something productive to do to realign her thoughts… She scanned the upper windows again. Still nothing. Then her potential teammates… Nico was familiar to her, of course; she still didn’t entirely know what to do about Turing but he certainly seemed to have made his mind up on the subject. She could respect that decisiveness, as well as the clarity and focus she’d observed out of the corner of her eye in the past few days. Perhaps this mission would allow her to familiarise herself a little better.

As for one Sergeant Dorn… God, she’s a tall one now that I look at her, isn’t she? And with the build to match… Quickly pushing back down the part of her she was deliberately distracting herself from, the one wanting to appreciate those aspects, she instead turned to the part that had filed her under ‘powerhouse close combatant’. Hope she’s got some sort of area control to augment it. If she has – between that and Nico’s capabilities… She took a moment to re-evaluate her view of Noel. Sure, the poor boy was obviously out of his depth but he possibly did have some budding skill for the tactical side of command, if only it could be nurtured.

Though I question his judgement in bringing on… Huh.

Myron hadn’t been of significant interest to her up to now – reformed AM terrorists weren’t so uncommon these days and the stereotype he’d seemingly built his personality around didn’t exactly make him any more endearing. She’d dismissed him as one to watch carefully, for obvious reasons, and interact with as little as possible otherwise.

If the horror that had appeared on his face for a split second as she’d begun to turn towards him was any indication, he felt much the same way.

Callie’s mind went into overdrive. He knows me or something about me – not necessarily – possibly associated with the mission – can’t take the risk. Don’t have time to deal with it today. Keep him quiet until I can confront him. Use his fear – make him think I know more than I do. Can tease out what it is after.

And so, with another check to make sure that nobody was paying particular attention to her, she looked away again, pretending to be looking at nothing. She summoned Charter, rolling it in her fingers to feign idleness. In her peripheral vision, she watched as Myron hesitated, then let his gaze creep back towards her.

Whereupon she immediately swivelled her eyes to fix him with a stare and a cold smile. She formed a tiny portal inside her mouth and inside his ear. “Shhh…”

(As she dismissed it, she ignored the impulse that it would have been kinder just to ask.)

---

Audience Hall, Sison Auditorium, Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 6:20 UTC+8

"Diligence, you say~?" She grinned in anticipation. "What else did he tell you? The Seven Virtues seem oh so loathe to step down from their clandestine little high tower to walk amongst us mere mortals, and the more we know about their inner workings, the better to pick their pesky interferences apart~." She sniffed. "Mou~, again with that 'Alan Turing' nonsense cropping up? Honestly, why can't that pest mind his own business? We're fighting a war here; his plots can wait."

Now, the Snake’s interest was a bit of…not good news, but definitely not bad either. As much as she set off warning bells in Nico’s head, having someone like Qingshe willing to give him some help against a bunch of men trying to play god was an incredible opportunity. It definitely gave him an excuse to at least try getting a read on her, and hopefully figure out what the deal was with the apparently not dead Turing, if not for his own curiosity, then Cavalet’s safety. But it was a thing that he could deal with a little later. For now, he shifted his focus to Noel again, and the next few things threw him for a bit of a loop.

First there was the greaser looking kid, a prat by the name of Myron. Nico wasn’t getting the best first impression of him, but then Noel started to get into a bit of the new face’s history, and warning bells began going off for the Greek volunteer. Children was already passing the line, but an out and out terrorist? It rubbed him all the wrong ways, and Myron seemed to fashion himself as some kind of charismatic soldier, which didn’t make Nico see him any better. Then, another, more friendly looking face walked in, a Second Lieutenant Larsdottir. She seemed much more relaxed and casually confident than Myron, which was a slight bit more reassuring for him. He gave a short wave to her, still fiddling with the diamond in his hand.

It was an odd procession, but what else was new? After the series of introductions given and questions answered, Nico tried to get back to relaxing in his seat, registering the orders he was given. He made a mental note to talk to Private Liddman, Qingshe and Dorn after the meeting about potential strategies and how best to utilize their Noble Arms in tandem. Or maybe just get some breakfast and a good stretch before the upcoming battle. Perhaps even just talking with his comrades-in-arms and the newcomers, as a way to get to know more about them. Then Noel kept on talking, and his calmness rapidly began to be burned away by rage. Who the blood soaked hell does this boy think he is?! It wasn’t just the matter of Noel believing that he would even consider listening to a suicidal order like going with Seven Virtues, but the fact that his next order was to request them all to trust a serial killer with their lives. Nico exercised as much restraint as he could to pull back his anger, but he managed it in an effort to keep himself from doing something stupid. Qingshe had been a bit polite about it, Private Price seemed to at least share his frustration, and Cavalet just looked lost, but it was the same result. Everyone voiced their dissent about the shift in the plan, but for the first time in a long time, Nico felt that his own pride was wounded.

There was a less than small part of Nico that wanted to fight Noel and Myron. But he was smart enough to know how stupid that really was. Instead, he got up and walked onto the edge of the podium. His native Greek accent was a bit more pronounced than normal, a result of him being a bit too angry to be more polite in his tone. ”A few things that I think should be made clear before I get anything done. First, I would kill or die before following a bunch of twats like Seven Virtues, so I wouldn’t obey such an order, First Lieutenant Alonso. Second, the…magical scientist wants Cavalet too. I feel like that should be a priority. Third, no way in fuck am I trusting him.“ He jabbed a thumb at Myron. “At least, not till he earns that privilege. And last, you said twelve hours. We deserve at least that much before going out to risk our lives, Lieutenant.” Nico wasn’t one to mince words, or even bother with being polite. Still, he tried his best to not be too hostile towards Noel. Despite his station, the lieutenant was still just a kid in over his head. Nico stepped off the podium and went to the closest seat, keeping his head down.

The printer made rhythmic humming as it painted ink onto the newborn document. A female ripped it off the tray as soon as it completed, trotting it over to her superior. "The Royal Thai Navy reports, sir."

He was fixated on a monitor. He twitched as his secretary announced the incoming item. His left hand waited patiently to receive it. His right acquired spectacles from his shirt pocket. He crossed his legs and skimmed the report like he would the dailies at the grocery store. The product for sale was hours on the clock, and a slight distraction. The cost was four destroyers, seven frigates, and twelve corvettes. Outrageous prices, but not unusual in this economy.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The office light focused through the lenses of his glasses, and he squinted. He stowed his spectacles and returned to analyzing the screen, where a teenager took questions and doled answers beside a projector in front of an audience. The man spoke in a low, calm voice. "Have we finalized preparations with the Air Force yet?"

"They authorized the releases. We are go for 1800."

"Excellent." The Hukbong Himpapawid dragged their feet so flippantly that he could promise only Lotus Squadron for support as late as yesterday. Understandable, of course; jet fighters were a valuable resource. Still, Noel had tact for a teenager in keeping some cards close to the chest. He wished some of that tact was displayed here:

Nevertheless, as he looked towards the back of the stage, theatrically gesturing in their newcomer, he would not mince words as he spoke, "Members of Task Force Obsidian, let me introduce to you Special Agent Myron Makaraig, former normal person, former normal person terrorist, and murderer of Arms Masters through backstabs, poison, and overall treachery before growing a Noble Arm himself and applying for amnesty."

"Greetings. My name is Myron Makaraig, a former member of the Disablers; we claimed to stand for normal people against Arms Master supremacy, and I used my cute looks to lure Arms Masters in all protective so that they can be shot, stabbed, or even blown up - I can resume doing so at any time as long as I stay handsome."

He closed his eyes. He didn't think he'd have to prep the new recruits and introductions himself, but he stood corrected. The ex-Disabler was increasingly essential to the operation; the discomfort he instilled throughout the ranks would need to be ironed out. Apparently total war was perfectly within the boundaries of sanity but a defected terrorist was not. No matter; everything remained reasonably calm.

And then Noel snapped.

He visibly cringed and said, "Listen, we know when we can afford to be loose-lipped with valuable information and when we can't. With all due respect, I don't think you know the same - What happens if I order you to accept the Seven Virtues' offer? I'm not going to do so, but have you ever thought what would happen if I was the sort of person to do that?! And please don't reveal the name of the one who invented the Occult Programming Language, which is the source of Noble Arms and other forms of Magitech, to us all - Not that it isn't too late now!"

He sighed, "Change of plans. Myron, convert as many of us as you can into data - We're going to the Spratlys now before any spies realize they got a larger windfall than they already expected to have..."

He stood up in tandem with the audience. Noel had singlehandedly instigated both an insubordination and a full-on revolt among children with superpowers. While they were stunned by their own shock, his propelled him to action. He fetched his Glock 17, tied its holster around his waist, and only partially concealed it with his suit coat. Of course, a firearm was perfectly useless against (he counted on the screen) two, three, roughly a third of the Masters there. The handgun didn't need to be dangerous; it simply had to feel dangerous. Most folks are taught to fear guns and ammunition; it carried authority's weight. He planned to leverage that weight deftly.

Meanwhile, the man addressed his counterpart. "Jasmine, I'm interceding. Watch that screen. If something should happen to me, signal the President. Tell him that I want a perimeter around this facility and, that failing, an air strike. Understood?"

"Yessir."

He collected his hat and egressed without an additional word, carefully organizing his thoughts into words and sentences. He couldn't tell what chaotic questions and challenges currently flung across that room, but he needed to prepare for anything.

------------

Iker blinked a couple times after his specific assistance was requested for theorizing contingencies. It was unusual to ascend to central planning so quickly after volunteering. Then again, his company was young, to the point of childhood. Maybe it was natural to consider outside help. He specifically wondered whether the Chinese would employ submarine wolf packs. If that was the case, their most deadly threat came not from above but from below. He was about to address this possibility, but a number of dissidents voiced their concerns first. He remained seated and silent. He wouldn't let his volunteerism be confused for solidarity, and his opinion would otherwise fall on deaf ears. On the subject matter, he personally could jump into action immediately, but it was the right of the weary to desire rest.

Once everyone had spoken their piece, he ascended and began to talk. "From my experience, a straight shot is difficult in a rough wind unless you fire into it." He pressed his fist into his palm. "Upon encountering Chinese resistance, are we expected to fight them head-on, or get out of there as expediently as possible? Do we-"

The entrance swung open; Iker sat down. A gentleman marched in, wearing a bright white uniform that appeared to shine in such a dimly lit environment. He bore a wide nose and slightly wider lips. His dark brown eyes were hidden by his cap. Perhaps that was for the best, given how much fire a single glance spewed. He smiled briefly at his presenters. "I'll take it from here for the moment. Thank you."

He about-faced and addressed the crowd. "Good morning. I am Rear Admiral Adrián Abasolo. Among other things, this operation is my responsibility.

"We work a tight schedule, but twelve hours' respite is reserved for you presently. When this meeting is concluded, please use it accordingly. You will not have this luxury once the mission commences. I recommend eight hours of sleep.

"Even if that was not the case, the vocal dissent will be kept to a minimum. It is a tenet of war that we cannot choose the time and manner of our engagements, or our allies. Our key to winning the naval battle in the South China Sea has placed itself under severe threat. We make do. We have just received word from the Thai fleet. If you'd like to see how well we'd fare without this key, I can show you the numbers.

"Our window allows a day before Mischief Reef's blockade will be completely impenetrable. My fleet and the aircraft that protect it are on standby as we speak, delayed exclusively for your chance to rest.

"This opportunity will not present itself again. If we elect not to take it, we will be playing defense for a decade until China loses interest and this conflict concludes. And so, I am willing to send Masters into battle, whatever their state of readiness may be. I will work with this reformed terrorist, as untrustworthy and unsightly as he appears to you. We are not NATO; we don't have the luxury of extra options and resources to spare. We are ASEAN. If we are to withstand the PLA, full support is mandatory. I have chosen your coordinator. If he cannot bring you in line, I will fetch someone who will. If you will not abide Myron's teleportation powers, then the last scouts cast off in an hour.

"If you have issues with the current situation, send it to me, privately, in writing. I will handle it. If you stage an insurrection, you will be escorted off the premises. Powers or no, you stand in defense of our coalition. Which means you are under my command. I expect you to behave accordingly."

He exhaled out his nose and scanned the room. Iker raised his hand. "I'd be willing to join the scout ships, if you desire me there."

The admiral nodded. "Let's discuss later. Everyone else: spend an hour to fraternize. Then get yourselves sleep. I'll see you at 1800. Dismissed."

The admiral pulled Noel aside while the others were distracted and spoke quietly, with a firm hand on Noel's shoulder. "You especially. You have potential, but you cannot lose your nerve in an active combat situation. I can't replace you with the operation so nearly underway. You're going to have to tough it out. Can you do that for me?"

@SkyHresvelg@Chiro@Aisede@Lewascan2@Sniblet@Conscripts@Gerlando@Creative Chaos@Nimbus@The Man Emperor@KaiserElectric@Landaus Five-One@Letter Bee

Collab between @Conscripts and @Gerlando

Participants: @Lewascan2, @Conscripts

---

Audience Hall, Sison Auditorium, Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 6:30 UTC+8

By the time Rear Admiral Adrián Abasolo had returned order to the meeting and started quietly consulting with Noel, Qingshe was already heading for the door. While a part of her was glad to see the breakdown of the command structure had been nipped in the bud and no further intervention on her part necessary, she couldn't help feel some curdle of dissatisfaction.

Shooting a final glance back, slitted golden eyes narrowed at the form of Myron, before the door shut behind her.

Clucking her tongue, she mulled over what just happened, as she strode the halls of the repurposed auditorium. Again, that dissatisfaction pervaded her thoughts. The actions of the First Lieutenant... Admittedly, they made her worry. Not for herself, particularly, but for the rest of the Task Force.

She couldn't shake the feeling that Obsidian was going to be in over their head, that ASEAN, particularly the Philippines, was putting too much of their hopes on a group comprised mostly of glorified mercenaries and volunteers. Oh sure, the Task Force had mundanes among them, like the impressive Lotus Squadron, but the real meat of things was clearly the Arms Masters...

Hrmm...

Perhaps she could do something about that.

Sending out a thin thread of her shadow with an eyeball peering from it, she quickly cast her gaze back along the way she came, navigating the barracks until she came across the Vietnamese pilots.

Bingo.

Casting her thread of shadow out of sight, the shadow at her feet expanded, and she dipped into the bubbling depths. Only a moment later, her head broke the surface of a spot just outside of eye-witnesses. No need to rile up observers after all.

Retracting the majority of her shadow, she turned the corner and smiled brightly, approaching the pilots with a languid, inviting stride. "Gentlemen of Lotus Squadron, a distinct pleasure~. I come with a proposition."

The Russian man was not the first one closest to the snake lady, but he was the first to approach her quite freely and openly, the one least likely to be fazed by the presence of neither Noble Arms masters nor the fact that she was inadvertently introduced as a Chinese defector. He too stepped over the presence of another individual, his squadron captain Tuan, but the man didn't put his foot down. It was good to have subordinates who took initiative.

"Ladies too. But we digress." Nikolay extended a handshake standing straight with confidence. "We're glad to be worth your attention. Let me grab my buddy first."

Nikolay briefly remembered seeing his friend speaking to this white-haired girl presumably from the Task Force, so he went back into the auditorium, seeing his black neat hair from a distance away, standing out from the very 'interesting' and exceptionally diverse hairstyles everybody sported. He made sure to wave for his attention and signalled him to come over.

"Alright, Ms. Qingshe. What do you have for us?" Nikolay said, once Cuong arrived by his side.

Smiling wider with a glint of teeth, Qingshe's eyes squinted pleasantly, as she clasped Nikolay's hand and shook firmly. "The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Phan~." She waited patiently, releasing the shake, while the Russian called over Cuong.

As soon as they returned and her intentions inquired after, her posture became a touch more business. "To be forthright, gentlemen, what happened in that briefing room wasn't pleasant to watch, and I shall admit, as much as I wish I could trust such a flub to not happen again, I can't shake the idea that it won't... in a much more high-stakes environment next time."

"Therefore, I find myself compelled to 'hope for the best and prepare for the worst'... as they say." Cupping her chin with her right palm, she asked, "What do you know of my Noble Arm?"

"Well, we're all ready to die here, aren't we?" Cuong made a sort of morbid joke, which while receiving mixed responses, everyone were relatively onboard with Qingshe's mentality, nodding along. When the question regarding Qingshe's Noble Arms came up, the rest of the squadron, including the captain and Cuong looked at Nikolay, seeming to egg him to answer, with smug looks. They knew...

"You people." Nikolay rolled his eyes before looking at Qingshe. "As far as our intelligence go, you have a tower shield, lots of sharp edges, works like hoverboards too. You control your own shadows, snatch people and create fancy stuffs with it." He said rather vague descriptions, some of them were on propaganda before it got tore down due to her defection, but some could be deduced as works of military intelligence. To which extent though is quite unknown.

Qingshe chuckled at Cuong's morbid quip. "Some more ready than others. Resigned even. Personally, I've never subscribed to such an 'it can't be helped' mentality." Fighting until the bitter end, flipping the bird to the dying light. She could honestly say she valued humanity's spite and defiance far more than she'd ever appreciate those useless louses that decided to accept the end was near before it was already upon them.

Turning her attention to Nikolay, she chuffed in amusement at the description of her ability. "Well, I suppose that's not incorrect data. Incomplete by far, but ultimately not flawed." Rapping the fingers of the hand cupping her face upon her cheek, she smiled. "While I don't feel quite at liberty to explain its every nuance, Ouroboros allows me to manage a sort of... workshop space. I can create anything I sufficiently understand, and anything I drag into my shadow's workshop space long enough becomes something I understand in due time."

The greenette gestured vaguely in the direction of where the medical area of the base had been established. "You may have seen the line provoked by my work before, but among other things, this 'understanding' allows me to heal or repair with a bit of individual study. And, more relevantly to my proposition specifically, I can modify and improve things I understand, whether they be a person or the weapons they wield."

Raising a brow, she grinned congenially. "I suppose you might have an idea where I'm headed with this, but before we go any further, I suppose I should inquire. Are you authorized to requisition Arms Master-derived equipment or modifications of either a technological or biological nature?" She chuckled. "I'd hate to think I did something too overt and caused you trouble in the long run."

Both pilots looked at each other, stroking their chin upon the idea. Their immediate response that came to mind would be yes. As weird as it sounded, Noble Arms military members weren’t this group of juggernauts completely separated from the main body of the army, at least for the Vietnamese’s. In fact, a large amount of equipment maintenance and resupply were done by one of their own Noble Arms, a surprising decision to put one of their scarce high-ranks into logistics work rather than the glamour of open-battle. But in this case, it was more dubious, as not only she had the baggage of being a defector, the QRS had not proven themselves much in terms of loyalty or even capability just yet, having barely declared their alliance to ASEAN.

But for the boots on the ground, or in this case the joysticks in the air, they knew of Qingshe’s feat in the Lingayen battle, and her efforts in tending for the army afterwards. It’s at least worth hearing what she had to say.

”Yes, but then again, you’re you. It’s a bit more complicated.” Cuong said, laying out the premise with as much neutrality as possible. ”Maybe if you can let us in further on what you want to do to our equipment, it’ll help us figure out if we can.”

Qingshe gave a tiny little patter of claps at the positive answer, before giggling mildly at Cuong pointing out, indeed, a notable hiccup. "Indeed, I am me. I won't claim I'm not, nor that I've had some dramatic heel-face turn as a person. What I did under China was not entirely under orders... but past a certain point, the lines they crossed went beyond even the idea of a greater good for humanity or even their own people. Our differences became irreconcilable, and so... here I am." She shrugged, as her grin sharpened. "Naturally, that's why I cannot condemn Agent Myron without it being frank hypocrisy. My misgivings are personal."

"As for potential modifications?" She smirked, tapping her pouting lip for a moment in contemplation. "Among others, improvements to handling, structural integrity, and a more... generous fuel supply are certainly on the board, but I figured you gentlemen would know best~!" She chuckled. "And if you're feeling like taking the biological plunge, then, personally, that's where I think we can get much more exciting. Bodies more resilient to G-Forces, vision and reflexes brought to the peak of human performance -if not beyond- and even more still if you but pose the idea. The sky's the limit really; after all, I like to think the biological is my specialty."

Slitted eyes squinting amiably, she elaborated, "Who else should I ask what could use improvement than those for whom those planes are but extensions of their bodies? For all their uniform production, I'm aware to some degree that Occult Programming Language has been used, given their performance. And with that, there are bound to be some... 'quirks'." Rapping her fingers on her cheek lightly, she asked, "So, then, I figured before all else, what would you like to see improved if you could?"

"Wow, sounds ambitious. Personally, I’m down for both, but…” Nikolay glanced over to his two colleagues, who were pretty clear from their countenance alone. ”Maybe the equipment for now, because that’s easier to get used to in such a short period of time that we’re allowed to prepare for this operation. Our high command definitely would have questions, but easier to ask for forgiveness than permissions, am I right?”

Especially if it came from the nation’s top fighter squadron, it’s a bit hard to put much disciplinary action on them without coming off looking bad.

"We’re down for all those upgrades, though if we’re going for those body upgrades, there is one thing for our aircrafts that at the very least I’m down for.”

“That would be for later though, Nikolay.” Finally the squadron captain, Tuan, spoke up. “Structural integrity, handling, fuel capacity is good yes, but also armaments too. There is a certain ratio of fuel/missiles that we maintain, so as not to use too much precious fuel reserved for our troops.”

“As for the biological upgrade, that’ll have to be consulted. Likely the high command wouldn’t refuse you, but will be sending someone to observe the work, so as not to, you know.”

Qingshe nodded easily, her smile unwavering. Any improvement at all was improvement worth celebrating. Even if Lotus Squadron's high command ended up turning down the idea of biological modifications, just upgrading their armament would be a net win in the long run.

"I can certainly help with getting used to any changes made," Qingshe replied. "I should be able to manufacture some form of simulators, so you don't need to go through the inconvenience of scheduling full drills in what limited time we have before tomorrow's operation." Humming to herself, she nodded. "Yes, I think that would do nicely. We can test-run modifications as they are considered, find what's most comfortable for you."

"As for what upgrades are practical..." Her emerald brow pinched in thought. "Well, without biological improvements to handle more extreme performance, what I can do for handling and speed will be limited. Otherwise it would just endanger you due to the aforementioned G-force stress. So, I suppose you'd rather prioritize structural integrity, fuel, and armament?" Her lips pursed, before she tacked on, "Maybe a bit more power to the thrust, just in case the other improvements add a bit more weight than preferred."

"A simulator? That's quite a convenience eh?" Nikolay remarked, glancing at Qingshe up and down. "Thrust certainly works. The less work we need to adjust, the better. But..." Cuong's eye-roll already gave hints to what crazy idea this guy had. "If we're going for biological improvements later on, I'm gonna want more of that thrust capability."

"Well, anymore of the talk would just be theoretical at this point." Tuan waved his hands to get the attention on him. "May we introduce you to the women of our dreams then? My Sukhoi is still under repair from the last fight, but it's the final steps and should be ready when the operation commences."

"I'll toss some ideas around, but I think I can cobble together something passable," Qingshe replied airily, a cheeky grin betraying the more casual nature of her confidence. Giving it some thought, perhaps if she utilized a bit of Occult Programming Language, she could simulate flight conditions inside some... pods? Booths? "Perhaps something akin to those arcade games, but a little more... elaborate." She chuckled to herself, mind still whirring with possibilities. She couldn't quite recall making something like this before specifically, so it would be a brand new project, off the cuff and with limited time to experiment, a thought that raised a bubbling of earnest anticipation in her chest.

Nodding to Tuan, she gestured broadly with a sweep of her left arm. "By all means, lead the way~! Let's get your ladies spruced up in the latest fashion, shall we? There's a party on the horizon that they can hardly afford to miss. Ah~, and..." Her lips curled impishly, eyes squinting in mirth. "I do believe I should have no trouble expediting Sukhoi's repairs should she be in timely reach of us."

---

A piece of writing from Thrasybulus

And a collab

Iker planted his feet outside the auditorium grounds. He was an independent actor once again. The lack of obligations rushed through him; he savored the infinite choice. The crisp air invigorated him. He had twelve hours until the operation commenced, and he might not be alive tomorrow. The notion didn't depress him as much as it piqued his curiosity, as did most concepts he couldn't quite conceptualize. He ought to use this time efficiently.

He peered down the road, both ways. Doubtless morning prayer had concluded, but maybe the great cathedrals remained open. They were not only monuments to Christ but also testaments to ages past. "The church of all times and places" was a phrase for a reason.

His first destination, then, was the Epiphany of Our Lord Parish, a sixteenth-century construction of the colonial Spanish. It was situated across the street from a supermarket and beside a drugstore. It had fortunately showed no scars from the Chinese invasion, perhaps by the grace of God. Thankfully, its doors were unlocked; Iker entered with silence and reverence. The walls were plain, as best he could describe it. He claimed the back pew and seated himself. The room was calm; the worship finished an hour or two ago. The Mexican smiled. He enjoyed the peace presented to him, brief as it was.

A priest noticed and hailed him. "Naparito ka ba para ipagtapat ang iyong mga kasalanan, ginoo?"

Iker knew no Tagalog, and it had been a century since his native language was relevant in these lands. English must suffice. "I have sinned, if you'd like my trespasses confessed. For now, I simply wanted to bask in God's glory."

The father gave him a strange look but settled his countenance. "Your accent... you're not from around here, are you?"

"Is that a concern?"

The man paused, then shook his head. "No, not in the slightest. You're a volunteer soldier, then?"

"That I am."

"Better to end your life forgiven, with a clean slate."

"I understand. I'm prepared to die." The Arms Master got up. "Thank you, sir. Blessings upon you and your house." The quiet was fleeting but precious nonetheless.

Iker crossed the local park, enjoying the greenery en route to the Banaan Museum, a beautiful blocky yellow building. His suffered a tad as he craned his neck to admire the ceiling intricacies between digesting the pieces of artwork on display. Beauty was truly timeless.

After a small bout of walking, he approached the wide Basing River. A lengthy bridge greeted him, but Iker was hesitant to cross it. This landmark was a mite too distant from his lodgings. His eyes surveyed the brown river before him. He retraced his steps and walked along its banks as the pavement would allow, then reached a pier amid a plot of grass and potted plants. He stood on its edge, embracing the wind that blew by him. It would be a good spot for fishing, had he traveled with his pole. Such a quaint garden, wayward from common traffic. What a gem he found. Satisfied, he resolved to return, and embarked on his half-hour journey home.

As he passed by a shop called "Sweet Cravings by Joyce," a frenzied woman with shockingly light hair whisked by, followed by a timid child. He knew those passing faces only in passing. The only ones he knew in this country were those of government employees and those of Arms Masters, and the two were very apparently no clerks.

Among the city ruins were many faces of people with broken lives, blending in the broken city in dull colors, like slowly marching shadows. This one however was the exact opposite, jovially running around in a stroll that almost looked like she was jumping, Nil went shop by shop, visiting each bakery and eating every type of cake or candy she could set her eyes on, with an ice cream in the mix for good measure. Unfortunately there were few shops, between bakeries turned to rubble and people who understandably took the day off. So Nil had to run all over the city in her brisk pace and not at all inconspicuous figure.

Right behind her was Hannie, trying to keep pace with the adult.

The 14-year-old adult of this relationship had expected this to be a better experience. In fairness, last time, Nil didn't know how to buy anything to begin with. Hannie probably shouldn't have told this creature what money was. Right now, all she could do was try to keep up. Nil blazed through every bakery and stall she found and then immediately rushed off with her stupid long legs, leaving Hannie to eat dust, taunted by the thought of tasting anything her babysitter caused to vanish in the past minutes. The question arose: why did she agree to this? Why did Kaitlyn want this? Would it ever end?

She considered using Kirvella. Keeping pace with the adult would be a lot easier if she didn't need to breathe or cool down.

"Walking, walking, walking, an open bakery!" Nil thought. This one she didn't visit before, for certain. While it probably didn't have the lemon-flavoured Potchi she missed, it would probably have something else, maybe better. She slipped in, Hannie turning right behind.

Individuals with such powers, with such... restlessness, should be at least identified. Iker, short as he was, filled the doorway as best he could. "Aren't you folks supposed to be winding down for slumber soon? I'm not certain how sugary delicacies help with that." He bowed gently to the baker. "Good morning. I hope your day's going well."

As Nil approached the entrance, a bearded man blocked her. What's worse, he addressed her with fancy words. Was this what they meant by being cryptic? As Nil tried to decipher what the man said he spoke again, this time with something easier "Yes, day is well," she responded, only after realizing he was talking with the baker.

Getting Nil into a corner at last, Hannie started to think of what she'd say to make this stop when someone else spoke up first. It happened a lot, but it never got easier. Pensive. She had no idea who this man was, but he seemed to have the right idea. "Yeah- Nil, maybe..." she paused for breath, "m-maybe we can go slower?" She'd been running around Lingayen in her coat and all, and now - even worse - she immersed herself in bakery-smell on top of all the rest of the moment's torments. Hannie looked like she might die.

When a voice called from behind, it took a couple seconds for Nil to realize that Hannie was there too. Nil somewhat panicked; she forgot to check if Hannie was okay and now had to speak with this man at the same time. She needed to say something to end one of the two conversations, something smart. "Aa..."

Far from Iker to disrupt a peer from making a mistake; it was simply his duty to inform her of her mistake. The... Scandinavian woman? (oddly, the second he'd encountered this morning) was hopefully competent enough to provide him with reasonable support when the nature of war demanded it. Then again, she seemed so puerile (puellaile?). Perhaps it would always have been the other way around, regardless of fatigue.

Iker swallowed, trying to calculate another approach given the situation. He scanned the foyer. A table and chairs: excellent. "If your day goes well, perhaps we should have a seat, then. Converse about life over some drinks. That's how I prefer to spend my morning." Should give the girl some respite, and he could put anyone to sleep on a good day. He approached the baker. "Something non-alcoholic, please. Three of them."

Fortunately the bearded man saved the situation in time, by offering life and drinks? He was saying a lot of things and Nil's brain was too frozen with too many things to fully comprehend what was going on. Realizing she wasn't saying anything. she decided to follow the man and walk in.

Nil's lack of response was fair; English wasn't Iker's first language, either. He learned it through exposure in Texas, and honed it through study. He couldn't expect such dedication of everyone. Iker searched his pocket for change, catching the baker heading to the coffee machine from his vision's periphery in time. "Non-caffeinated, please. Do you have fruit juice? Smoothie, perhaps?"

The currency set down on the counter at the same time as the drinks. Iker wiped off undesired debris from their would-be eating place. He then took napkins and set the table, not that much regalia was required for a few drinks. He claimed a seat and stood straight in it. He closed his eyes and smiled. Whether he assembled a brief prayer or immersed himself in his personal zen mode was anyone's guess. He opened them and motioned to the drinks he setup. "Two smoothies and a decaf coffee. Pick your preference, please. My treat. Let's participate in life together."

Wow! This situation remained completely outside of Hannie's control! She looked from Nil to Iker and back, then to the three beverages that he ordered them, then to Nil who was head-emptying at a smoothie, and well. They were sitting down for drinks with a strange bearded man now, she guessed.

She waddled over to the table and claimed the window seat on Nil's side. Hannie slouched and tried to assess her smoothie's flavor by eye. Blue and dark. Could this be a metaphor?

The deflated girl looked up at the strange man, cooling her hands on the cup. She said nothing.

Sitting down with a smoothie in front of her, who would expect Nil not to drink it? Nil took a few moments to look at Hannie and make sure she's there. She knew was supposed to do that before and now didn't know if it was a good idea to bring it up with the child.

One thing at a time, strange man first.

Smoothie.

Two things at a time.

Nil had never seen this man: not on the beach, not in the barracks, and not in the briefing. Maybe she should say her name early and he wouldn't walk away like the Vietnamese man. Maybe he would. It was fine either way.

"Me is Nil, this is Stang." she announced, evoking her NA for a few second, then recalling it back. Maybe he also doesn't want to see it, stupid, she thought.

Iker appropriated the remaining coffee and gazed down upon it. Oddly considering his old haunches, he didn't like the taste of it; he'd only ordered coffee for variety's sake. He took a small sip during the introductions and set it down. His obligations were complete; he wouldn't drink it again. "Greetings, Nil. Salutations, Stang. I am Iker Orozco, a volunteer for the current conflict recently arrived from Latin America. I wanted to familiarize myself with the locality. Have either of you been here long?"

"A week," "Stang" offers. She neglected to mention that she'd explored a fair amount in that time. Saying less was easier.

Nil thought for a moment. Iker... Orozco... no, it didn't ring a bell. A volunteer from America? So that's why he was so good with English. "Two, three weeks." Nil stated, remembering the early deployment while setting up defenses. All that and it lasted a few hours.

Iker clasped his hands together. "Very well! So, what are your favorite..." He was going to say "haunches," but Nil might not understand a word that long. He hadn't quite gauged Hannie's full language abilities, but he respected her appreciation of silence. "...places to go? I recently visited the church over yonder. Plain but pretty, and there's a lovely park nearby."

"Candy shop and bakery is good." Nil said, thinking of other good places she had been. Not the auditorium, everyone knew it, not the library, she barely read half a book in there, if they asked about it she would have nothing to really say about it. "The beach was..." she stopped to slurp for a moment, yeah was is correct. "...Good..." Nil returned to drinking the smoothie, hopefully she didn't say anything too out of line there.

"Stang" twiddled with her straw for a bit. If he was on their team, it was probably okay to tell him where she spent her time, but... she should've seen him... talking to strangers... nnnng... "I've... been around the college across the street," she mumbled. If it weren't for the war she'd definitely not be allowed in. She wasn't sure if she was now, either, but it was so pretty... Well, it was prettier before the volcano. (edited)

"College" was an English word that eluded Iker's memory. College. "Colegio"? Made sense; she did look like she was in high school. Nil's diction was expansive as always, though she earned commendations for grammatical improvement. Still, it was ever clearer that neither were conversationalists. Discomfort wasn't his aim, but Arms Masters needed accountability partners, at least a couple, lest they snap and never return. Iker disliked children, but largely for their immaturity and their arrogance. "Stang" possessed neither, so he'd tolerate a conversation with her. He locked eyes with the Australian. "What educational subjects interest you?"

Directly addressed all of a sudden, Stang Hannie had a brief deer-in-headlights look, and hesitated to respond. It looked like this could have been a difficult question. It wasn't. The answer came to her quickly when she remembered how to think. "Mm- math." She took her first sip of the smoothie, with faltering eye contact. Blue raspberry...

Iker nodded. "Math? Wonderful. It'd be interesting to meet an alternate self who'd completed his education." He shrugged. "I suppose it's an impractical thought, though. No sense worrying over it. Regardless, I hope you get as much of a math education as you can manage, with all the success it can bring!" He turned to Nil, hesitant to unleash whatever sent her careening into this bakery. "So what are your thoughts on... the beach?" he guessed.

Nil simply drank the smoothie and stared at the table, she'd rather not elaborate on the topic. Honestly, she had nothing to say anyway.

Despite his generous efforts, his two compatriots were fiercely resisting conversation. His last two queries had produced one word between them. That was satisfactory, perhaps; the right to remain silent was theirs to exercise. Even so, Iker's concern was not yet assuaged. They weren't ready for sleep yet, and would likely resume activity when Iker no longer maintained their attention. Two Arms Masters hurriedly bouncing between locations within war-torn Lingayen was cause for alarm, if only for public nuisance, even absent malicious intent.

Certain places in Lingayen were very obviously off limits, due to damage or simply from common sense. Iker wasn't going to take the recently-energetic Scandinavian to an ice cream parlor, as if she needed any additional sugar before bedtime. Still, a few options remained. "In amenable, um, in good weather such like this, I find a sturdy park bench to be quite relaxing. I can double back to the little park by the cathedral. Shall we head over there, then? I want to make sure you appreciate your last few waking hours." Of course, if he found an intact book store on the way over, poetry might be a useful weapon of slumber.

Nil thoughtlessly finished her smoothie, multiple long conversations in a day wasn't her strong suit. Still, Iker wanted to get out already but had barely touched his drink. That wasn't good, did he forget? "Okay," she said without thinking much, then grabbed Iker's coffee and took a sip. Sour. Now she knew why Iker wasn't drinking it, it was even more disgusting right after drinking the smoothie. With a disgusted face Nil considered chewing on the plastic straw, but didn't as it would take too long to chew.

Hannie relinquished the taste of very cold blue raspberry. She looked from one to the other, quietly prepared to be dragged somewhere new again. Should she have an issue with a random stranger so easily taking command of both of their days? Probably? Not really. It was him or Nil. "I wouldn't mind." That might or might not have been true. She didn't spend long questioning it. Him or Nil.

The phrase "I wouldn't mind," the lesser known sister of "It's fine," had potentially disastrous potential. Iker recalled Hannie's "maybe we can go slower" and factored in the possibility of fatigue. Hannie's facial expressions didn't indicate anything, so Iker chose to, horror of horrors, trust this child. He certainly wouldn't carry her on his shoulders, if she was even light enough for practicality. "Very well. There's a wonderful riverside park, complete with a quaint pier!" Iker made hand motions. "It's ten minutes' walk; you head down that road and turn right before the city supermarket." He stood himself up. "Shall we commence?"

So they followed Iker. They walked on the street, then across a bridge, then beside a small area where buildings alternated with trees. The walk took them by ramshackle construction and through heavy traffic on a busy road. An odd mismatch of modern corporate facilities and local shops, it was quite a pleasant experience for Iker, though he occasionally checked his acquaintances' countenances for any particular reactions. He particularly looked forward to the off-road travel. Here great buildings loomed above him, but past the gas station they'd give way to beautiful greenery alongside the Basing River.

Iker began to worry as he approached an intersection. As if by some cruel joke from the universe, a dozen bakeries lay by the wayside. Cafes. Cake places. Supply stores. This wasn't even to mention the giant supermarket building up ahead. He glanced back at Nil to make sure that she still followed, that he hadn't lost her amidst overwhelming distraction. Who knew how he'd recover them should they pass out of sight.

Nil could usually handle one long conversation, but not now after a mix of yesterday's actions, conversations with Cuong, then Kaitlyn, now Iker, and a run around the city on top of that. Nil slowly reverted to silence; if she was going to be active again, she would need more sugar, or at least the promise of it. (Un)Fortunately for the other two, Nil didn't notice Hannie's still half-full smoothie.

Hannie was no longer a deflated child. She didn't look happy, but neither did she seem like she might die. She followed along, quietly per her usual, paying much more attention to her surroundings than to her leaders.

After a while, they turned into a large street full of cafes and bakeries. As Nil slowly grew aware of her surroundings, she also regained some energy.

Then, turning to her left, she saw them: the lemon-flavoured Potchi.

And there she went. Back in her brisk pace Nil approached the shop owner and simply pointed her finger on the pack of candies right behind the stall.

Hannie didn't immediately notice Nil's detour, instead absorbed in - apparently - one of the handful of cars still parked on the roadside. The city had been getting emptier pretty fast. Precious seconds passed before Hannie looked forward again and noticed a lot less white in front of her. More precious time passed before she recognized the much blander Iker was still there. So she wasn't the one who wandered off. "Um," she said, very softly, stopping to search around. With hindsight, she would probably have told Iker what she noticed.

Had Iker more stress, an expletive would have been appropriate. He was at least perceptive enough to hear the small pip from the child behind him. "Yes, I understand, Stang. Thanks for the heads-up, though!"

Iker parsed the buildings for the Scandinavian Arms Master. His initial search proved unfruitful amidst the colorful scenery and buildings. Iker tapped his foot in thought before directing Hannie. "Stay here, beside the big 'Lingayen' sign. I'll run and check the stores." He could remember the sign; it was a proper landmark. Iker jogged to a building, threw open its entrance, and scanned the area for Nil's presence. Unsuccessful in the attempt, he waved a brief salute to the confused manager.

"Can I help you, sir?"

[color=fff200]"Oh, nothing, merely looking for a [s[child[/s] mild acquaintance. If you see a woman with white hair, send her over to the Lingayen sign, please."[/color] Iker left the door to close on his own as he rushed to the next facility.

Cut to a frightened shop owner trying to appease a silent bright white girl with the equivalent power of a walking tank. Two minutes of weird looks, a failed attempt at verbal communication and a couple nods later. Nil now walked around the market, scouting for her next target. There it lay, 'Sweets from Jor'. Of course she immediately walked in; it was in the name!

Miraculously, on his way to his third establishment, he was able to glimpse Nil at the edge of his periphery, entering a two-story conglomerate building. He glanced back to check if Hannie was still situated at the Lingayen sign, then looked around the establishment. Dentist, drugstore - bakery. Found it. He charged in, tripping on a small ledge at the entrance and landing hands-first on the cement pavement. This was apparently not his day. He rose back to his feet, shook himself off, and brushed his hands off on his pants. He turned the corner to see Nil at the vendor. Though he was too delayed to stop whatever she attempted, he would catch her red-handed in her acts of immaturity.

Hannie sat cross-legged on the ground at her assigned spot, watching the proceedings with vague interest.

Inside the bakery the usual small scene happened. The Scandinavian girl strolled right to the table where cakes were, cutting a few people in line, then looking intensely at the options available and finally pointing to one of them with strawberries on top. "Cake," she managed to say with her recovered forces, expecting the person on the other side to understand and comply, then looking at them with a motionless face.

Cutting in line: a truly reprehensible violation of the moral code. Iker marched up to Nil, raised his hand, and let it fall onto her shoulder. "You ought to wait your turn, you know."

The woman on the other side was lightly confused by the utterance but at least understood the verbiage. "So, do you want a slice, or the full thing?"

Iker interceded. "A sli- wait, give us a moment, please." He looked at Nil's motionless face. "Hey, you can't go barking orders at folks. It's not polite. Why are you getting the cake, anyways?"

Nil considered the last things he said, now with a confused face. Better not ask what exactly he meant by 'barking orders', not in this moment at least. "I... want cake," she murmured, unsure what else needed to be said.

Iker didn't believe that he was going to have to reward an adult with massive cake slice simply for uttering the word "please." Of course, that word wasn't yet guaranteed. He looked at the line, took his hand off Nil's shoulder, and situated himself at the end of the line. It took a minute, but he soon approached the baker again. "May I please have a slice of the strawberry cake, please?" He thought for a moment. "You know, make that two, please."

"You may; that will be 50 pesos," replied the lady, passing awkward glances at Nil.

Iker doled out the proper currency as the woman cut her cake, and the goods were exchanged for cash. Iker obtained two forks (half assuming that Nil wouldn't use it) and brought one slice to Nil. "Repeat after me, please: 'May I please have a slice of cake?'"

Confused and sluggish, Nil stood in place, turning to see Iker's weird behavior. He approached her, went a few steps behind, then slowly approached her back to only then ask for the cake... very weird. Nil found a place to sit down, thinking about what Iker was trying to do. He then asked for her to repeat something... still very weird. "I... please... cake?" she tried to repeat, confused more than before.

Iker would facepalm, or at least pinch the bridge of his nose, had he not held a slice of cake in each hand. "We will discuss matters of manners at a less urgent time." The two ladies must return to barracks and obtain their long-elusive rest. He turned to the baker woman and bowed gently, balancing his purchases as his face fell. "Thank you for the pastries, madam. I hope you have a wonderful morning."

"Thanks, you too!" came the response.

Iker kept the cake in hand. He wasn't one for grudges, but he'd bamboozled himself into buying cake for an Arms Master who neither needed nor deserved it. At the very least, the first bite would go to one more decent. "Come, Nil, let's depart."

Hannie obediently waited by the "Lingayen" sign. What propriety. Iker crossed the street, approached Hannie, and presented her with a plate of strawberry cake. "Thank you for your patience. Please enjoy this token of apology."

And now he had one slice left. He was tempted to eat it himself, leaving Nil to watch dejectedly. No, he had neither the interest, the spite, nor the waistline to perform such a cruel act, even in consequence to discourtesy. He held out his remaining plate to the Scandinavian. "Treat others with decency, Nil."

Hannie took the plate, and looked kind of lost. "Thanks," she said. She looked between the adults, trying to determine what happened between them by sight. There wasn't much to gather while they were inside, either. Hmm. Well, that's enough thinking - she has cake. The people here spoil her. She manifested Kirvella, and ran the softly hissing blade over her slice, visibly frosting it up. She dismissed it before it could say anything to her, and set to work at the cake.

Nil meanwhile was too drowsy and too confused to properly compute what was happening. She followed along and returned to silence, having lost words some time ago and in the recent exchange since.

When offered the slice of cake, Nil took a good two seconds to realize it was actually cake that Iker was carrying, and promptly ate it in two full bites.

Iker took note of Hannie's freezing dagger. It inspired him to consider the use of his own Noble Arm. It wouldn't have any long-lasting repercussions to direct someone to behave, but it might serve as an example. Then again, the healing properties would probably reverse the memory, if the events could be stored in memory. This isn't even to mention the implications of hacking away at a human body in public, even at his own. Its application deemed useless, Iker set the notion aside for later musings.

He peered over the "Lingayen" sign. Here was a secondary park around Lingayen's older constructions. He had been here recently as part of his walk and honestly preferred the more open riverside grounds. Even so: "You know, this establishment is also perfectly serviceable. Would either of you care for a stroll around this facility in lieu of our current destination?"

Hannie replayed that question a few times. This... establishment... uh... serviceable... lieu... um... she swallowed a tiny piece of mostly-frozen strawberry cake and furrowed her brow. "Are we going somewhere else now?" It occurred to her suddenly that Iker called her "Stang" a bit ago. She frowned.

"Why, yes, I suppose," Iker replied. He took three steps into the entrance of Lingayen Park and threw out his arms, smiling. "I am now somewhere else! Let's find a nice bench to seat ourselves, shall we?"

The facility was largely cement and monuments, disrupted occasionally by trees, other greenery, and even a couple ponds. There were a few choice benches available, and Iker chose the furthest seat on the nearest one. He beckoned the both of them to join him. "It's a lovely day today, is it not?"

"Mm..." Hannie looked around, failing to spot anything burned down in the immediate area. "I guess."

She stopped and stared in front of the bench, contemplating how close to the man she wanted to sit for a long time. Eventually, she took a spot immediately next to him, like it wasn't a big deal that she spent multiple seconds thinking about.

Behind them was Nil, who slowly followed. She had no idea where they were going or why, but she knew she had to be near Hannie so she physically followed the other two, but was clearly mentally absent from the conversation. Finally they reached... this place. There wasn't much to this place that Nil considered that special: an open space with a few patches of green and statues dotting the place. Nothing to catch her attention. Nil arrived last at the bench and sat at the end that was still free.

Iker's hands were folded on his lap as he closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh outside air. Honestly, he preferred being alone, and he felt uncomfortable on such a packed bench. Still, he was glad to share his philosophy and worldview with others, to bring rest to weary travelers. On the path he trod, he'd likely never have children of his own. A positive impact on others, however slight, gave his life, his bloodline until now, purpose and meaning. Who knows? Perhaps, some day in the far future, Nil would learn to say "please."

Nonetheless, he was curious to survey his acquaintances. He allocated a few minutes for silence: to hear the birds chirping, the leaves rustling, and the passersby earning their daily bread. He then prompted the question: "Has life treated you well today? Did you enjoy your morning?"

"Mm-hmm," Hannie mumbled, still pecking away at her slice. It was hard to imagine that it lasted this long.

Nil meanwhile remained silent, partly because she was over speaking for day and partly because she was starting to doze off. She at least turned her head while Iker was talking, but whether she actually heard what he said was unclear.

"Good talk, then." Iker returned to silence for a few additional minutes. He did notice that Nil's state was dramatically less energetic than that of her introduction. In fact, she might not make it back to her quarters. Iker pinched his chin in thought. "Stang, when you've concluded with your cake, would you mind if you take one side of Nil, and I take the other? We'll walk her homeward. She ought to sleep in a more comfortable location than this, given tonight's events. You deserve some as well."

Hannie was quiet for a while. She set down her fork and frowned at Iker. "My name is Hannie." She looked to Nil, tapping her on the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

As soon as Nil got calm for a minute her tiredness, both physical and mental, hit her like a truck. She managed to follow Hannie and Iker as they talked, but her mind was not there to be part of the conversation. At one moment she battled to not close her eyes. At the next she was being tapped by Hannie, turning her head to the small child. Nil interpreted that Hannie was asking her something which ends with "okay." She slowly nodded.

Iker smiled gently. "Then let's find our way back home, Hannie." He nodded towards Nil. "And let's bring Nil with us." He took Hannie's word at face value, only later putting two and two together that Nil fed him false information.

He stood up and repositioned to the other side of the bench. He squatted, wrapped one arm around Nil's back, and stood upright, bringing Nil to her feet. He still maintained enough energy and strength for this final act. "Come along, now. It's thirty minutes' walk back to our quarters."

Hannie hupped. Travel commenced.

And the gang found its way home.

FIN

Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 18:26 UTC+8

Caffeine this early in the evening would on any other night have been an abysmal idea. Yet tonight, Rear Admiral Adrián Abasolo maintained a full pot of coffee and a large mug beside him. Jasmine had been sweet enough to craft it. He preferred a completely uninventive drink: hot water and Indonesian grounds.

In the twelve hours between dismissal and reconvening, the admiral's civilian staff had shuffled relevant equipment into Sison Auditorium. After this morning's fiasco, he figured that direct communication with his assets would assuage concerns and strengthen trust. Not everything could be repositioned, though, hence the band of wires taped to and running along the bottom of the wooden floor.

He was alone at his desk, though a station for each remotely-involved officer took its place along the walls. Security was postitioned at each entrance and egress of the room, because a little paranoia never hurt anyone. To his right, five chairs in two rows greeted him. The blackboard beside them faced the main doors of the facility with the following language:

Irregular Team A:
1st Lt. Noel Alonso
2nd Lt. Indra Larsdottir
Sgt. Nil —
Ms. Callie Lidman
Mr. Nico Makri

The chairs and blackboard to his left were the mirror image, with the exception of the blackboard's scribblings:

Irregular Team B:
Pvt. Kaitlyn Price
Agent Myron Makaraig
Ms. Hannie Cavalet
Mr. Iker Orozco
Ms. Lei Qingshe

The assignments were strictly based upon cohesion between special abilities. Still, Abasolo winced one last time that leadership roles so heavily favored the first team. Nonetheless, it wasn't his first discomfort when arranging this mission. The remaining chairs were positioned across from him, with their blackboard simply declaring, "Reserves." The space between the three sections was a simple square.

Beside him was a speaker, through which Abasolo hoped to broadcast reports from the field and so maintain transparency throughout the chain of command. Soldiers operate best when they understand the current situation. At least, such was his philosophy. He nonetheless maintained headphones, like all his officers. Several paces behind him was a sizable screen which displayed a virtual map of the South China Sea with live updated positions of deployed ASEAN assets.

The Arms Masters shuffled in with varying times and punctualities, yet another discomfort Abasolo bore. Still, he requested 1800 for a reason. The operation was to commence at 1826, which allowed ample delay. Until then, Admiral Abasolo stood up, moved into the empty square, and addressed the crowd at attention. "I haven't heard any complaints, so I'll receive your attendance as a gesture of undivided support. You've heard general outlines of the mission thus far; I figured I should clarify further. If some of this is old news to you, it's because I want to ensure that everyone is up to speed.

"The QRS [Abasolo presently didn't bother to expand the acronym] is located at Mischief Reef, which is currently under siege. We cannot teleport supplies to the region, and so we attempt to run this blockade. To this end, the Australians have leased us two auxiliary oiler replenishment ships, His Majesty's Australian Ships Supply and Stalwart, under the command of Commodore Heather Munro, to carry what our allies require. We have contributed two frigates and a corvette to escort them. The Indonesians have similarly contributed two frigates and three corvettes.

He stood at ease; formalities could wait until after the engagement. "The PLA would very likely notice this and send its full local fleet to intercept this blockade run. In order to divert their attention, or failing that their resources, we have set up a joint Indonesian-Filipino strike fleet comprised of small, nimble boats and submarines to harass the enemy. Both operations will occur simultaneously, so keep focused for the duration of this engagement.

"I've assigned two teams of five. If either prong of the offensive is under duress, I will provide coordinates and a location to Myron and signal "go" to one team, commencing with "A." When selected, you will step forward, and Myron will teleport you to those coordinates. From there you will manage whatever threat presents itself to your current fleet. If possible, you may return to these headquarters to await further orders once the threat is neutralized. In lieu of that, five additional Masters will reoccupy your seats as a new makeshift assembly, which I will employ as the battle progresses.

"To be abundantly clear: protecting the Supply and Stalwart is our primary objective. If you must choose between sinking Chinese ships or protecting our fleet, choose the latter. If you must choose which ships to save, prioritize the Supply and the Stalwart. The escort will attempt to avoid any confrontation; when operating on the escort, I suggest you do the same."

With that, he turned to his officers, announcing within earshot of the Arms Masters. "You all have your orders. To victory or defeat, let's make this a flawless exercise." He returned to his station and pressed a button. "Milkfish. Come in, Milkfish. We seem to be having problems with our radio. Is everything good on your end?"

Reed Tablemount - 10/11/2022, 18:26 UTC+8

THE DIVERSION

"Milkfish reads you; give us a moment," Commodore Arlene Roxas responded. She collected the Romeo flag and stepped outside the bridge of the BRP Ramon Alcaraz. She knew the general location of her target, but she still needed to readjust her sight in the rapidly approaching twilight. She waved her flag out towards the distance.

The man on the other end would be Commodore Harta Lucas, her Indonesian counterpart. She'd told him to watch for her signal, and, sure enough, she saw the Charlie flag waving from the rear deck of the KRI Alamang. She trotted back inside and resumed her response. "Affirmative, Pearl. Everything's good on our end."

"Excellent. And you, Carabao?"

"Affirmative on our end," replied a third voice.

"Very well. Return to your duties."



Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 18:37 UTC+8

"Pearl! Come in, Pearl!"

The admiral nearly leapt at the call. "Milkfish, is that you?"

The sound of an explosion, followed by the blap-blapping of large arms fire replied before Milkfish even got the chance. "Affirmative. Alamang is down, and they just nabbed the Kujang. Commodore Harta is incapacitated. Repeat, Harta is-"

Well, that could kill morale. He turned off the speaker and equipped his headphones. All his soldiers heard would come from him.




The admiral freed an ear from his headphones and pointed at Irregular Team A. "10.868383, 116.630628. Deck of the BRP Ramon Alcaraz. Your target is a PLA corvette about one nautical mile away, at approximately ten o'clock."

He stood up. His baritone voice was calm and resolute. "Go."

^{Right now I'm listening to: something to keep my head on straight. It doesn't feel appropriate at all.}
Jitters. Bad jitters. Really bad jitters. They were bad when she woke up. They got better when she went practice flying. Now they're back. And they're bad. But Indra's been taught to act against her feelings from time to time; she nods at the simple order, clings desperately to the directions, and looks to Myron... speaking of acting against her feelings. But, shit, she's one of the leads - she has to be seen volunteering herself to him fast. She doesn't wait to see if Noel moves. Should she?

"Let's go, then," she tells him, apparently calm and trusting. As she approaches her transport, she conjures Dís. She doesn't spread her wings wide like the photos, but those who know of the Valkyrie would recognize her now if ever. She sighs, and tries to keep it under her breath.

On the other side, what comes first? - assess the surroundings. Next? - find her team.


Hannie is watching. Hannie is a little nervous. Hannie is passing this turn, staying close to Kaitlyn and far from... you know, the other woman.

Mission Two: Siege of Mischief Reef

Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 18:37 UTC+8

Noel stepped forward, placing his left palm on Myron's shield, before saying to the Rear Admiral as his body began fading, turning transparent as it was converted to data, "Remember; Private Cavalet is to be kept out of the battle; no one objected to that. First Lieutenant out."

BRP Ramon Alcaraz - 10/11/2022, 18:38 UTC+8

Another minute passed - An eternity on the battlefield - Before the boy reappeared in the BRP Ramon Alcaraz's communications tower. Waiting for the rest of his team to arrive as the ship shook under enemy fire, Noel reviewed the arsenal of abilities he had, an arsenal much expanded by the fact that the moon was shining in the sky now, enabling him to duplicate a number of weaker Noble Arm abilities that were not themed after the Sun. La Luna's Power of Enchantment; that was the name of the ability that might make or break the tides of combat...

PLA 'Foreign Volunteers' Division - 10/11/2022, 18:38 UTC+8

Mei Yuanyuan had been part of the Disablers, like her father before her, both have been led by Doctor Ripper - Not to be confused with their resident crazy, Doctor Denial - and his angry, aggrieved charisma to a path of vengeance against the monstrosity embodied by Arms Masters and the power they wielded. She had genuinely believed that said power was dangerous, and becoming an Arms Master herself had not changed that view, nor had the Paragons and 'Seven Virtues' attempting to turn those who fought in the Hammer - Disabler War into 'Relics of the Past'.

What had changed, however, was her dedication to 'saving the world'; it was dead to her and the only thing that remained was to enjoy herself as best as she could before Arms Masters and the Occult Programming Language destroyed this rotten 'Meta-Humanity'.

Her Noble Arm was an entire ship, a Sloop-of-war whose hull was as tough as her willpower and whose cannons were capable of bringing down Jet Fighters. And it can fly.

Now, her sloop was flying towards the Supply and Stalwart, her deck swarming with released prisoners that China had promised freedom and wealth if they joined. Many of them were Arms Masters; a few even belonged to the Hammer of Masters and helped build the 'Malikate'. One of them, Sohrab, she can even call her friend.

"It seems your will is as strong as titanium alloy, Lady Yuanyuan," the man in question said to her as the enemy began focusing what missiles it could on her ship's hull, causing the deck to shake. "Be careful anyway, Mei; we can't take on the entire ASEAN Flotilla, especially as their Arms Masters are deploying soon."

Mei nodded, "And we know who's deploying them - Myron sincerely believes in his new cause, doesn't he? You saved his life and that's why he got his Noble Arm."

For a moment, she felt a stab of jealousy towards the little weasel - He must have found a band of people foolish enough to trust him if he was confident enough to fight for ASEAN like this. Not everyone can just bow down and admit the world was as good as dead as she does. Well, there was Doctor Ripper; her former superior, the founder of the Disablers, the one her friend Doctor Denial admired so much that the latter refused to believe he had become an Arms Master... That man had become the dangerous kind of crazy wanting to accelerate the end of everything.

Maybe she'd help him, maybe she wouldn't. Either way, Mei Yuanyuan made a sweeping gesture, and her cannons fired at every target under the moonlight. They would cut through the ASEAN Flotilla until they reached the supply ships, which would teach Myron the futility of hope!

@SkyHresvelg@Aisede@Lewascan2@Sniblet@Conscripts@Gerlando@Creative Chaos@Nimbus@KaiserElectric@Landaus Five-One@QJT

Three kilometres above the combat zone, Private Caroline Lidmann lay crouched in the corner of a metal box. Strictly, the box was part of the Ramon Alcaraz below; a portal, pressed up against the angled surface of the inner side of the point of the prow, effectively transported the surface as high up as she wanted. She’d got herself there by agility, safely and rapidly conveying herself with an initial portal across the deck of the Alcaraz and then swinging through this one, using the portal’s edge and the virtual edge of the prow through the portal to lever herself up. The result? On the reverse side, only the dark and empty skies as seen from aboard the ship; on the obverse, a crow’s nest from which to scan the battlefield, one from which Callie could see nearly to two hundred kilometres away if she projected her night vision goggle-enhanced sight past any interfering cloud with Charter.

She scanned across that distance with practised efficiency. The soft, cold, familiar pull on her stamina and the resonances from feet scrambling across the deck only emphasised that her time up here was limited. Already, she knew the situation directly below her was dire; every second gained her more information but took lives in trade. Callie grimaced, pushing down the guilt and the bile – the Supply and the Stalwart were the priorities.

What she saw was… Odd. She leant into her radio, sending her intel down to the others. “Got a scattering of a half-dozen small craft, spread in a rough line from hostile base to a couple hundred clicks northeast,” she intoned, careful not to give away her own position in case there was someone else listening in who’d broken their encryption. The ‘hostile base’ was Mischief Reef, itself a couple of hundred kilometres to the southwest from her – Callie had barely made out its shadow at the edge of her vision, even with Charter’s aid. She frowned, looking at the boats, seeing the shapes of people moving aboard but… “Crewed, but look dead – no wake. Two more groups of heavier vessels, too – fifty clicks east southeast of base and a hundred clicks north-northeast of base. Northeast group heading southeast; other isn’t moving.”

Now for the more pressing matter; she zoomed away, to the ominous shape looming above the ocean. “Also, hundred clicks northeast of base and couple up – hovering antique craft.” ‘Antique’ – either the product of a Noble Arm or one itself. “Headed southeast, fifty clicks ahead of northeast group, closing with Snapper.” The codename for the Stalwart and Supply’s group. Callie pressed her lips together, turning on her goggles’ thermal imaging, scanning the deck. “Got dozens aboard – possible AMs. Looking –”

She winced as her image suddenly shone bright, rapidly bringing her hand up to switch the thermal imaging back off again. “Antique just opened up.” And God, it’s got range for something that old-looking – must be 30, 40 miles off… “Requesting conveyance orders and permission to target VIPs on antique. Recommend engaging as ordered.” Can’t throw ourselves in close to that flying ship – don’t know what it or anyone aboard can do yet, she thought, even as another part of her mind cursed the fact that she was forced to use this imprecise half-jargon lest her military ‘inexperience’ be revealed as the mirage it was. Better to hijack the corvettes and turn their firepower on their allies. Pre-emptively, she affixed Charter to her rifle. I, on the other hand, can test it.

Many Arms Masters wouldn’t die from a bullet to the head, projected across one hundred kilometres of space – but it would still probably hurt like hell.

@Letter Bee @QJT @Sniblet @Gerlando @Creative Chaos

---

Sison Auditorium, Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 9:26 UTC+8

---

Audience Hall, Sison Auditorium, Municipality of Lingayen - 10/11/2022, 18:26 UTC+8

The pre-mission briefing was proceeding apace, and Qingshe sat amongst the small audience of Arms Masters with an expression like the cat that caught the canary written all over her demeanor. She had to make an effort -well deserved, she felt- not to send Myron and the Rear Admiral both looks filled with her most smug satisfaction, as she fiddled with one of her tablets, making notes of critical mission details.

The briefing quickly began to wrap up, as the operation began properly. Titling her head and spying on the breadth of allied communication, Qingshe could see that Chinese resistance was already making things... troublesome. As much as she'd have preferred to stay on the backline, this was no time to play coy. This was for all the marbles, and it was time to earn her pay as a member of the QRS and demonstrate exactly how much their faith in her was worth.

Shooting a smile in the direction of Privates Kaitlyn and Hannie, she wriggled her fingers in a parting wave and stood, eying the sight of the disappearing First Lieutenant Noel, rolling her eyes lightly at his own parting words. Striding up to Myron and the Rear Admiral, she said firmly, "Send me to the Australian supply ships. Either will do, but whichever is closest to the enemy would perhaps be prudent." She smiled glibly. "I will conduct a concrete and extensive defense of our mission's critical center. Also..." Her shadow bubbled up underfoot and to an area slightly to the side of the sitting area. "I'll be leaving that here. I had a bit of a.... Eureka moment with my abilities over the last couple hours, and I can now provide a slight solution -in case it was overlooked- to the fact that Myron's shield can only transport those it can touch. Notably, he cannot retrieve anyone he sends." She grinned, as a second Qingshe poked up from the surface of the shadow, lounging halfway submerged with a coy look her eye, like a mermaid resting their arms upon a rock... if the "rock" was the surface of her shadow. "My shadow can, albeit only from wherever I presently am, and I can only maintain a single gateway in this manner. Deployment and exfiltration will be possible with ease from the supply ships as long as I remain deployed."

She touched Myron's shield and grinned predatorially. "Beam me up, Scottie~."

---

War at Sea, Blockade Runners HMAS Supply and HMAS Stalwart - 10/11/2022, 18:37 UTC+8

Qingshe's clone manifested aboard the Stalwart with a glint of anticipation in her eye. Through her gaze, her real self, lounging back at the Lingayen base, explored the puppet's senses, making note of any delays in performance or overall strain... not that there was any, as she opened her shadow at the clone's location, now providing her a direct line to its position. As far as any should be concerned, there might as well have been no space between her puppet and her other body in Lingayen at all.

As the thunder and flash of gunfire echoed through the night, Qingshe immediately got to work.

From beneath her clone's feet, her shadow rolled over the deck of the Stalwart in a rippling, inch-thick wave of harmlessly crackling ooze, the buzz of static beginning to fill the air around her. Spilling from the ooze, several devices quickly began to interconnect wirelessly to the allied fleet, tuning her into communications, radar and sonar alike, quickly forming for her an image of the allied and enemy situation.

Cannon fire rained down from above with a peal of thunder, but Qingshe was ready for it. Her shadow flashed up the outside of the Stalwart, angling itself against the attack, and any missiles or projectiles that actually would have hit would instead be swallowed into her shadow's depths, nullified and deconstructed into nothingness in moments. She clicked her tongue in annoyance at only being able to protect a single ship at a time in this way, hoping the Supply had gotten off lightly in the exchange without her cover.

Feline, golden slits illuminated the darkness in her vision sharply, as she gazed upward into the distant night sky. Her shadow began to spill forth further devices, including high-quality range-finders and cameras, both technological... and biological in nature. She avoided anything that might immediately give away her position; though she felt that might already be a lost cause, depending on if Mei had fired at the supply ships for any particular reason.

Consulting both what her own sensors could acquire for her and the readings coming from the allied ships, Qingshe quickly put her creations to work building a movement profile of the obvious Arms Master-based ship currently soaring through the sky. As she did, her shadow began to bulge and crackle more intensely, as long, thick gun barrels began to boil forth from the abyss.

Gleaming ebony metal thrummed with inner, eldritch power, as crackling green sigils and lines accentuated their forms with The Snake's aggressively cyberpunk aesthetic. A deep thrum briefly could be felt vibrating in the chests of those aboard the Stalwart, as the battleship-worthy main guns finished forming and angled towards the sky, guided by the data Qingshe was still collecting and calculating even at this very moment. And soon enough...

"Target locked," Qingshe spoke with a thrumming echo to her voice over the ship's comms. "Distance judged. Vectors of evasion calculated. Durability: under assessment. Confirming intent to engage with enemy Arms Master." The clone eyed the flying ship for a moment longer, confirming that it was staying its calculated course, and then... "Returning fire."

All along the starboard side deck of the Stalwart, protruding high into the air -somehow without adding any weight to the side of the ship, twenty separate 20-inch main guns opened fire in a cataclysmic roar of full broadside, sending a hail of massive shells hurtling on course with Mei Yuanyuan's Sloop-of-war. Somehow, in the doing, the barrels did not give off any flash of light to accentuate their position, the shadow having already swallowed the blasts of gunpowder to only allow the shells to fly free. Nor did the shockwave of the blasts harm the crew of the Stalwart, the propelling explosions again swallowed before they could ever escape the barrels alongside the shells. All that was left was the thundering, bone-deep roar of noise that shook the air with Qingshe's counterattack.

Even after the first salvo had been fired, Qingshe didn't stop, the guns being loaded with a different kind of ammunition. The first round of shots had been armor-piercing, but as the guns roared again, this time, they were loaded with high-explosive. Another full broadside of twenty guns bellowed into the night air, sending explosive projectiles shrieking towards the flying ship.

Qingshe still didn't let up, determined to unload so much unpleasantness into the enemy Arms Master that they wouldn't even be able to consider firing back. With any luck, they might even wither so much under her assault that they retreated far enough from the supply ships to be useless as a threat to them.

The guns were loaded again, and this time, Qingshe decided to get a bit nasty. The ammunition was changed again, and this time, the shells she unleashed were not designed to do damage to the ship directly... but rather the crew. These shells were targeted towards the front of the ship, aiming for maximum misery, as any impacts would see the shells violently explode into massive chemical clouds of blinding, burning and blistering capsaicin. The clouds would flood through the ship, as it flew right through them. And just to be doubly sure, Qingshe made these shells into timed explosives. If they didn't detonate from an impact at the moment they were calculated to hit, they would explode anyway in the ship's general area, like a flack curtain of chemical irritation.

Staring at the dark sky, Qingshe finally let her assault halt, eyes narrowing, as she waited to see what fruit her labors might harvest.