((Plot-relevant Collab between
@Nimbus and
@Windstormugly, our surprise guest!))
Callie watched with a restrained keenness as the various officials, diplomats, and functionaries filed their way out of the room, herself close behind. There was tension in the air, so obvious that she could almost see the wires stretching, but everyone seemed to have behaved themselves properly - in public view, at least.
Meanwhile, the parts of her mind not focused on vigilance wandered.
No other reason to suggest it than to drive that wedge… But does China really think they’ll convince anyone in NATO that the ASEAN coalition’s mistreating - yeah, they could probably convince a very large number of NATO civilians that they’re mistreating prisoners. Her lips twitched ever so slightly towards the shadow of a wry grimace.
Another glance across the corridor that they’d now reached; the diplomats were beginning to split apart into their various delegations. Callie considered. She had no reason to report to the US’ contingent - her hierarchy and lines of communication were separate from theirs, even if it wouldn’t surprise her if there were CIA operatives embedded in their group - but, on the other hand, it would probably seem out of character for her ‘eager volunteer’ persona to actively avoid an opportunity to talk to some of her countrymen.
That could come later. For now, Spindle wanted her
actually talking to the
other delegations…
Callie eyed one of the windows.
It’d look suspicious if I just jumped down their throats immediately, wouldn’t it?No sooner had she processed this than Callie found herself sliding away, headed for the nearest women’s toilets according to the building plans that she’d memorised prior to her arrival. Pulling open the door and flitting through the disjointed entranceway to a room furnished with brightly polished tiles, she gave the place a quick scan. Nobody, seemingly, had arrived before her.
Bunching up the pleating of her skirt in one hand and manifesting Charter with the other, Callie turned her gaze to the windows of this room and the sky beyond them. A quick, tiny portal looking over her destination; nothing there, either. Then, with a slight bend of the knees and her arms held to her sides, she made a practised hop.
Uncomfortably warm and humid air rushed up to meet her, then solid concrete a few feet after that. Loosing her grasp on the conjoined space, Callie fell into a crouch behind the lip of the roof that she’d made her perch. A brief check of the case she’d stowed there showed that her rifle remained untouched.
Slightly more satisfied, she adjusted her posture, brought Charter to her eye and poked her head out above the parapet.
More personnel here than there were… Looks like typical RCA mechanised infantry. One antiquarian visible; sticking close to his officer, unsure of himself. She, however…A slight adjustment of the spyglass’ magnification to pick out the precise width of the barrel of the company captain’s rifle - one clearly meant more for shooting tanks rather than troops.
With that weaponry? Steelkiller for sure. Callie suppressed a shiver - she’d never been entirely comfortable with that idea, ever since she was introduced to it in the Cadets. Arms Masters’ potential battlefield dominance practically guaranteed people specially equipped to counter them, of course, but the implications of soldiers and others trained to eliminate not just a class of combatant but a class of
person...
(Part of the unease, of course, was in reaction to the part of herself that had noted the heavy anti-materiel rifle and merely considered again whether the loss in manoeuvrability would be a fair trade for that extra
punch.)
Overall, though… Callie glanced across, focused and stepped a few hundred feet off to the other side of the building.
If this is a trap, they’re being smart about not showing their hand. Nothing that a concerted AM attack couldn’t break but this is enough to delay them, get the delegations out. A final once-over of the Cambodian soldiers’ equipment, vehicles and general attitude revealed little beyond a host concerned with safety and keeping up appearances.
Still, better to report that than nothing. Keeping Charter on her eye as she finished her checks, Callie tapped at her neatly hidden earpiece.
“Command, completed a visual scan of the perimeter. No sign of…”Her voice trailed off. Through her spyglass, her gaze had settled on something. Something
inside the building.
“Hold a moment, sir,” Callie intoned, forming almost by reflex another tiny portal to peer into the inside of the corridor on the other side of the building from the one she’d left.
She found a scene of destruction. A trail led from one of the supply closets through the plan corridor, as if someone had misunderstood the idea of cleaning. The dust and debris told of someone having left a collapsed building. An ajar door to a workroom was broken open, the handle trashed with a heavy blow.
Up on the roof, Callie tensed.
“Command, found evidence of intrusion or sabotage in -” she consulted again her mental map of the building -
“Corridor 2, southern end. Getting a closer look.”Another portal later, she was inside, taking up position against the wall, rifle held close as she snapped Charter into position on its rail. Yet another let her inspect the room from her position of safety; she shrugged off the twinge of more of her energy being drawn away. Inside, the dust ended abruptly in a laser straight cut across the room, as if someone had slashed it in two and left a micrometre thick indent across the floor, walls, and ceiling, the mark of an arrowhead at each corner.
Callie froze.
This is a trap.I know who set it.Oh, dear God.Callie felt her heart start to hammer against her chest, heard the building roar of blood in her ears; her brain began to run into overdrive, mind spinning off in a hundred directions, possibilities, all of the ways that the next few minutes might go if, in fact, he
was -
Focus.Taking a moment to suck in a breath, Callie swung through the battered doorway, Charter raised to her eye in parallel with her rifle, its line of sight raking the half-broken space. There were traces of
something in the corners, nothing that she could see but instead a familiar frisson, that rushing of energy across the skin… Whatever Kenrick had done was still active - she knew from her own experience.
Normally that would have given her pause. This time, though, there was something to one side of the room, hidden from her view from the corridor: a pile of standard issue Cambodian army jacket and pants, a stain of dried reddish brown on the collar…
Little thought crossed her mind as she stepped forward - and appeared elsewhere with a
jolt. Stumbling out of an alcove, Callie caught herself, seeing the corridor where the delegations were still splitting off. The dignitaries closest to her went quiet, as if they had maybe said something they shouldn’t have in company, and gave her a forced smile.
That’s not at all how you react to a woman in formalwear armed with a high-powered assault rifle and attached NA appearing from nowhere. Way too calm.They’re his.That meant that if they were going to attack her, they probably would have already, and so she chanced a flick of her eyes in the other direction. There, further down the corridor, they caught on a NATO dignitary walking away towards a bend in the passageway, making some idle comment on the decoration of a vase of flowers… The last thing she saw before he passed out of sight was an arrowhead, twirling between his fingers.
An arrowhead that, somewhere buried deep in her memory, she
recognised.Hands trembling, Callie strode after him, albeit keeping eyes on the ‘dignitaries’ behind her. She passed another group stood by the vase, apparently so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed a single thing -
More likely actual dignitaries, either that or very good actors - and turned the corner, only to see the arrowhead clattering to the floor a dozen or so metres in the empty space ahead of her.
Taking a few steps, Callie pressed her back against the wall, steadied herself, then flicked her earpiece to send again.
“Command,” she murmured,
“urgent situation - hostiles in the building. At least NATO’s delegation compromised; likely assault or kidnap of security in Room 2 dash 3, with two possible accomplices disguised as VIPs in Corridor 1. In pursuit of suspected leader…”Her hand clenched around her rifle’s grip.
“...believed to be Kenrick of the Hammer of Masters. Threat unknown beyond that - suggesting we go to evac.”Callie took another breath. She almost brought her hand back to her ear - and then decided against it.
They’re going to want to hear whatever happens - even if I wanted to hear whatever it is they have to say next… For the record, Spindle, you never said they shouldn’t know he’s my dad. Almost certainly do anyway, if ‘Translator’’s been doing his job right…She gave herself no more time to think that through before taking another glance left and right, then pushing on, steeling her nerves -
- and then, again, she was somewhere else - a small room, identifiable by the temporary sign on an inner door as being set aside for the talks’ Cambodian hosts, specifically one ‘Phuong Keo’. The back of Callie’s mind registered all of this in a few moments.
The majority of it was concerned with an individual - likely Phuong’s secretary - still sitting behind their desk. This would not be unusual, but for the thing holding them upright and also keeping them from reaching something beneath the desk: an antique arrow through the chest, nailing them and the chair to the wall.
“Plea…se, he…lp. He, he, the min…ister.” they managed, before finally falling back. Callie reached forward as if to catch them, then to feel for air passing their lips. None did.
With that, quiet fell across the office - but not silence. A shiver ran through her as she caught a soft, repeated melody… The sound of someone humming an old nursery rhyme, one that her mother used to sing for her.
And, for the first time, a cold fury stirred in her veins.
Callie span, then pushed through the inner door, rifle levelled. There, she was greeted not by a Cambodian minister - the chair behind the desk assigned to him was unoccupied with the exception of a single arrowhead, matched by another embedded in each corner of the room.
Instead, beside the desk, back facing her, there stood the man in the uniform of a NATO dignitary, an ornate laminated bow across his shoulder.
“Welcome Callie, having fun at the conference?” Kenrick, former Malik of the Hammer of Masters, her father, said. He turned towards her; a flick of his wrist to release the pressure of the bowstring and the bow - the
Arm - rolled down and into his hand like a coiled belt.
“Oh, sure.” Callie’s voice sounded
wrong - not just her pan-American accent grating against Kenrick’s muddled European, but unfamiliar to her own ear - tense, forced.
“Lovely hospitality here - everyone’s been so welcoming. I hope you’ve found the same?”“Hah, welcoming? To you and yours? I think we can be a bit more candid, don't you?” he said smiling before continuing.
“I meant the surveillance, mapping out the area, marking threats and planning escape routes and retaliation strikes. Is that fun for you?” he said with thinly veiled anticipation.
“Speak for yourself - I’d be oh so keen to know how you found all that, too,” Callie rejoined.
Buy time, just need to buy time, let the others get into position - hopefully get as many out as they can. “It’s not so bad, is it? I mean, you have the joy of running into so many interesting people for the first time.” Was that a
growl?Kenrick smiled at her first answer and started walking around in the office, picking up things and putting them down again, seemingly unconcerned with Callie still having the rifle out.
“It’s what I was raised to do, you don’t think about how you put your feet down on uneven ground.” He stopped at her last comment, his face tightening strangely.
“That depends, some would say the meeting long overdue the sweetest regret… How much things have changed, how little they now need your protection.” He trailed off, head tilted slightly to one side like he was listening to something.
“Incompetents. I heard you met your side's supposed opposition already, what's your impression?” Kenrick asked with a tired look in his eyes.
“Oh, arrogant, unrepentant and far less in control than they assume. Think it’s a pattern.” It was the strangest feeling - dual surges of fury at the suggestion of
his protection, as if he hadn’t been the one that she’d been running from all her life without even knowing it, and
pride in his recognition of her capability and strength, comingling into something dreadful and fiery. Callie heard her blood surging, felt her muscles becoming twitchy with adrenaline…
Something’s happened to his team. They’re in a position of weakness, a quiet voice in the back of her mind observed.
Push him now.Kenrick had been nodding along to her words, a small shake of his head when she went quiet and was just about to say something when she interrupted him.
“Anyway, love to stay and chat but I’m not here to see you.” A cathartic thrill ran through her at the lie.
“Was hoping to catch Minister Phuong - some finer points of the negotiations I wanted to pick his brain on. Don’t suppose you’d happen to know where he’d be?” Callie asked, reaching for her power and holding it at the ready, even as she readjusted her sweat-slicked hold on her rifle, keeping it trained on its target. Her finger pressed against the trigger.
“And maybe don’t move while you’re answering. Easier for both of us.”@Lewascan2@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@DammitVictor