[b][color=f6989d]Sister Marta Rocha[/color]

Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022
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In any future retelling of the day's events, Marta would swear up and down that she was not asleep when Noel called her with all due urgency and that she most definitely did not startle awake, uttering some kind of strange gurgly cry and reflexively adopt a boxing stance.

No, that story definitely would stay under a seal of confession.

More importantly, she had just been shot from inaction to action, the undirected, stagnant stress now firing from every nerve as she tried to keep stock of the many, sudden developments.

[color=f6989d]"I'm starting to see it's zero to one hundred in two seconds flat with Task Force Obsidian,"[/color] she groaned, following the group quickly as she limbered her shoulder. There was a non-zero possibility she'd be asked to punch a ship again, and she was not looking forward to that strain.

[color=f6989d]"But I'm ready to help. What's the game plan?"[/color]

She hoped against hope that no one would actually stand between them and the airport so they could evacuate in peace. Naivete, probably, but she did not relish having to send some poor soul careening into the stratosphere - metaphorically or otherwise.

Legitimate self-defense might not be sinful, but she wished she would endure into less kinetic times.