Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:24 UTC+8

Lieutenant Channery Chea kept talking to Noel, trying to drill into the young man that he should not cause trouble, personal threats aside. Nevertheless, after several minutes, the female officer relented, saying, "A boy thrust with the role of 'father to his men'; many of my subordinates have been thrust into the role of family head and can relate to your circumstances - Do as you wish but do not cause trouble; I and my men will be watching."

Dara Chea, on the other hand, observed the group scattering; the Nun (Maria, right?) and the Belgian (Henri?) were with the young commander of Task Force Obsidian, Nico Makri, and Cristina Bernardino (the mercs) had walked off towards separate windows, and Myron and that 'handyman' (Roberto?) were planning something, with Roberto going off somewhere to insult Huo Ren for being, well, being a war criminal whose methods of satisfying his desires shamed his nation.

Aoi had eluded his notice as she successfully got her hands on Huo Ren's phone while Roberto made him seethe, then used the teleport beacon to 'upload' herself into Myron's Noble Arm. Nevertheless, Dara felt that he was fulfilling his job well as he turned his gaze back to Noel's group; was it just him, or was the young First Lieutenant suddenly nervous as he checked his military-issued encrypted PDA?

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:29 UTC+8

A few minutes later, Noel was walking towards where the Philippine delegation's office was, gesturing for Maria, Henri, and Nil to follow him with all haste. As for Callie, he texted her saying, prepare for evacuation. Talks are going FUBAR soon.

The young man had learned these past few weeks that things cannot be expected to go well with Huo Ren around. But if that man thought everything was going to go his way, well, Myron had that simp's phone now, and was ready to broadcast its contents to the meeting; that ought to cause enough chaos to cover for ASEAN's evacuation from these talks - He wasn't blind; Callie was lured to where her father had killed one of the few remaining members of the Cambodian Opposition in Parliament, and the Opposition was less thrilled by China's promises than the ruling party were.

This was a frame-up and Task Force Obsidian was being set up to take the fall for the collapse of the negotiations. Well, so be it, but that will be on his team's terms. He sent a message to Nico, saying, Meet up with us right now; Myron and half of the group are going to try and expose Huo Ren, but Callie's father is trying to frame her, us, and ASEAN for murder - We need to evacuate!

---

At the same time, Myron was walking towards the window where Cristina was, but not before sending a message to Roberto to, Specialist Williams! Meet me and Volunteer Bernardino at the second-floor balcony, eight meters away from the front entrance - We need to prepare for evac now!

Reaching Cristina's position, he pulled out his Noble Arm, but not before uploading Aoi and Huo Ren's phone to the Philippine delegation's office, where she could use the equipment to broadcast Huo Ren's intentions and atrocities to the world...

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:32 UTC+8

The moment Aoi and what she carried - Huo Ren's Phone - re-appeared in the Philippine delegation's office, the latter lit up on its own, and the entire tone of the meeting changed as messages and pictures of Huo Ren's secrets -



These were broadcast to the public, upending hours and days of plans and intrigues and rendering various preparations redundant.

Shen Tu couldn't help but grin; revenge was a dish best-served cold.

After all, just because he and Xing Xiao hated granting sapience to inanimate objects didn't mean that they couldn't do so...

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@DammitVictor

Noel's radio crackled to life, and a baritone voice began to speak in accented Filipino, "Lieutenant Alonso" do you read?"

Noel answered, "Loud and clear."

As the voice introduced himself, Noel was able to pin down the accent: Indonesian. "This is Obsidian Volunteer Sastro Sewojo with the 220th airlift wing. If you're feeling friendly, you can call me Sam. We got word from Manila that things had gone a little sideways at your meet-and-greet. Need a lift, lieutenant?"

Noel answered, "Yes, Volunteer Sewojo; not just for us, but the Philippine Delegation. Maybe even other ASEAN members if we really need to."

"Phnom Penh International is about 45 minutes due west of your current location, if traffic is light," Sam began. "Of course, if there's any Cambodian police barricades or Chinese Arms Masters between you and the airport, that might slow you down just a tad." His voice remained upbeat, but not flippant; while positive, an underlying firmness showed that he understood the seriousness of the situation. "If that is untenable, I can think of two more options: If the roof and perimeter is secure, we can try and land on the roof. But all the international and Cambodian personnel on the site could be a problem. Additionally, staying put opens the door for them to send more personnel while you're cooped up or - God forbid - hit the building with an airstrike." Sam allowed a brief pause.

"Plan C, if you happen to have a Master that manipulate water or temperature - or can commandeer a boat, would be to float or freeze your way out onto the Mekong near the convention center to your north and east. We can pick you up there, but flying at that low of an elevation comes with risks. All-in-All, it's your call Lieutenant."

Noel answered, "We no longer have an ice-user or anyone like that. But we can try and pick up a boat..."

In a measured but still enthusiastic voice, Sam switched to English, "Copy that, we'll see you there. I'll check in with you once we're approaching the city proper. Good luck."

Made in collaboration with @Letter Bee

Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

Aoi had eluded his notice as she successfully got her hands on Huo Ren's phone while Roberto made him seethe, then used the teleport beacon to 'upload' herself into Myron's Noble Arm. Nevertheless, Dara felt that he was fulfilling his job well as he turned his gaze back to Noel's group; was it just him, or was the young First Lieutenant suddenly nervous as he checked his military-issued encrypted PDA?

At the same time, Myron was walking towards the window where Cristina was, but not before sending a message to Roberto to, Specialist Williams! Meet me and Volunteer Bernardino at the second-floor balcony, eight meters away from the front entrance - We need to prepare for evac now!

Reaching Cristina's position, he pulled out his Noble Arm, but not before uploading Aoi and Huo Ren's phone to the Philippine delegation's office, where she could use the equipment to broadcast Huo Ren's intentions and atrocities to the world...

"Well, Ren-ren... I can say it's been real, and I can say it's been fun, but I can't say it's been real fun. My superiors have invited me for a little TV watch party, some hors d'oeuvres, some champagne." Berto blew him a kiss and made a beating heart with his fingers. "Just bet your superiors are gonna sit you down to watch the same show. It'll be like we're watching it together before you go away on your new assignment. Toodles!"

Berto faded into the crowd and made some distance before Huo Ren got the news. He took some detours before making his way back to the exfil point-- fewer than usual, due to the time constraints, but hopefully enough to shake any of Huo Ren's comrades.

He signaled, discreetly, to Special Agent Makaraig before approaching. Can't be too cautious. He leaned in and whispered, "What's the good news, Mac? Did I miss something juicy?"

Collab Post between @Digmata, @DammitVictor, and @Letter Bee

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:30 UTC+8

<Snipped quote by Letter Bee>

<Snipped quote by Letter Bee>

"Well, Ren-ren... I can say it's been real, and I can say it's been fun, but I can't say it's been real fun. My superiors have invited me for a little TV watch party, some hors d'oeuvres, some champagne." Berto blew him a kiss and made a beating heart with his fingers. "Just bet your superiors are gonna sit you down to watch the same show. It'll be like we're watching it together before you go away on your new assignment. Toodles!"

Berto faded into the crowd and made some distance before Huo Ren got the news. He took some detours before making his way back to the exfil point-- fewer than usual, due to the time constraints, but hopefully enough to shake any of Huo Ren's comrades.

He signaled, discreetly, to Special Agent Makaraig before approaching. Can't be too cautious. He leaned in and whispered, "What's the good news, Mac? Did I miss something juicy?"

As Myron walked to the balcony where Cristina stood, he gestured to Roberto to talk with him as he walked, then whispered, “We’re being framed and have to leave - All of us.”

But the two would see someone walking towards Cristina, a tall woman who looked to be in her late twenties, wearing a red silken eyepatch that seemed to be an indicator of style and not actual disability, such was the ease of her gait. She wore a crimson-and-gold silken dress whose scandalous (to others) sleeveless-ness was balanced out by a short fur-lined cloak that exposed her shoulders.

This lady was Mei Yuanyuan, a former member of the Disablers, now an Arms Master, and she was sauntering towards Cristina as though she did not fear the ‘little girl’.



Her next words, as she smiled were, “Myron. It seems you don’t keep your belongings unattended…”

Berto smirked. ”Well, if you knew how much fun we were to play with, you’d want to keep a close eye on us, too.” He winked. ”Don’t want to talk out of turn since Mac is my boss, here, but we’re on a bit of a schedule, Miss… ?”

Cristina looked at the phone with shock and alarm, she knew that no side here was acting in good faith but for an actual frame-up to happen here? The world was getting crazy and all she could do was weep.

Unfortunately, she cannot follow the orders that she's given, as felt the heavy steps of a woman who looked like a cosplay of Chinese pirates. Unfortunately, it means that she is definitely an Arms Master like her.

Summoning Sinagtala at her hand she pointed it at the woman.

“If you want to talk with your mouth, then don't take another step.” she commanded as she glared at the taller girl.

“What do you want?”

The woman introduced herself as, “Mei Yuanyuan; Myron’s old partner in crime during the days of the Old Conflict, when the fault lines were about who had Noble Arms and who did not, instead of… This. I’m here to tell you that while the Big Three have replaced the Old Conflict, the ghosts of the latter are still echoing in the shadows.”

She smiled, and then went on, “Your friend, Callie, she’s facing her father, who was Public Enemy #1 in the 2014 war against the Hammer of Masters. But what neither of them knows is that progress has been made towards restarting the other end of the Old Conflict - There is a way to quell the cries of the soul; a way to eliminate Noble Arms.”

Myron glared at her, and asked bluntly, “What grift are you peddling now, Mei?”

In response, Mei looked at Cristina, then Roberto, saying, “Turing has decided that Noble Arms were a bad idea, an accident that he had unleashed upon the world. But he needs someone, with a Noble Arm of exact parameters, to enact his plan to erase them. One of you three has that Noble Arm.”

Looking upwards, puffing her chest out like a fertility goddess, Mei openly spoke, not knowing that Cristina already knew some of what she was going to say, “Noble Arms were made of an Occult Programming Language that can create new facts and alter existing ones but cannot destroy anything. But Noble Arms themselves can get around that. By using the Deletion Key, or so that Noble Arm is called, we can either: Destroy this timeline so Noble Arms never existed, or two, override this timeline with data from the Base Universe, the Main Timeline most Earths are copied from.”

She then smirked, “The first will kill everyone who exists because this is an alternate timeline, the second will allow those who are alive today to somehow still exist despite the logical impossibilities. But I am prepared to allow the first if you three don’t come with me - This world is dead to me and I have enjoyed myself with its pleasures enough…”

Cristina stared at Mei and never diverted her eyes nor lowered her sword for a single moment. “I don't really care who you are or what the hell the Old Conflict is,” she spoke.

“But it is clear to me that you're one crazy birch that must be put down.” she decided as her Noble Arm began covering itself in white flames.

“Because the dead world you're speaking of is the world I’m living in.”

Mei’s smirk held as she said, “As you wish. That said, have you ever wondered why no one has been eavesdropping on us, considering the information I’ve just given out? Why don’t you take a look around you?”

For Cristina’s Noble Arm, the sword named Sinagtala, was manifesting Mirage Space by itself, forcing Cristina, Myron, and Roberto inside the pocket dimension formed by the technique/power.

Berto’s tone and his facial expression softened; there was a hell of a lot of pain behind his goofy facade. Takes one to know one, he mused. ”Listen, lady. Mei. I don’t know what kind of mistakes you’re running from, but this is not the way. If there’s one thing I learned all those years buried under the hospital for the magically insane, recoding my brain by hand with a plastic fork, when you shit the bed, you don’t get to unshit the bed. There are no do-overs. You have to clean up the mess you made and go on with your life. There’s no erasing your mistakes, and there’s no reliving your wasted years. This is the world we live in, and if we’re goddamned lucky, we get to save it every once in a while.”

”You want to wash your hands, you’re gonna have to do it the same way everyone else does. One hand washes the other, and then you keep ‘em clean and you pretend you don’t still hear the angry ghosts of your fuckups.”

”This… this kind of hubris, this isn’t how you get out of the hole. It’s how you got into the hole. The ‘greater good’ ain’t nothing but the accumulated mass of a whole lot of little goods. Man… you people still get offended when someone reminds you the Dalai Lama exists? The Dalai Lama said one time, ‘everyone wants to go out and save the world, but noone wants to stay at home and help Mama do the dishes.’”

”We’ve all got powers, and maybe we shouldn’t… but we do, and we have to use our powers to make things better, or else we’re inevitably gonna make them worse.”

Mei sighed and said, “Perhaps, but those beliefs must always be tested, shouldn’t they?”

They and Myron were still in Cristina’s involuntarily activated Mirage Space; what exactly did Mei do?

This question was answered when she said, “A gift from Turing; let’s just say that when I find the people that I am looking for, I can activate their Noble Arms on their own…”

Cristina took a step as she realized where they are, this is her Mirage Space but she hasn't used it yet. Subsequently, Berto’s speech had simply emboldened her that the woman in front of her needs to be put down, not that she needs more motivation.

Although that gives her a thought, if she can involuntarily activate Noble Arms then she likely could do the opposite as well.

So there is no declaration, Cristina immediately warped her way to the woman's back and tried to slash Mei with her still-burning sword. Whatever trigger she had, she needed to outdraw it.

Only for the ground to suddenly rise up, ramming Cristina’s feet and legs with enough force to break them. But it wasn’t really the ground, it was the deck of a ship, a wooden Sloop-of-War whose planks were strengthened to be stronger than concrete.

Mei Yuanyuan’s Noble Arm was an entire flying vessel, replete with banks of cannons ready to fire at the other targets within the mirage space.

Its Captain drew a sword, a Chinese Jian Longsword that was no Noble Arm but had been modified by Occult Programming Language.

“Turing’s Gift,” Mei said as she turned around to face Cristina. “This ought to be enough to counter you.”

Cristina struggled to keep her balance at the suddenly rising ship forcing her to temporarily use her Noble Arm as a crutch to keep herself stable. The freelancer raised her sword against the modified weapon, after her lessons with Qingshe she could easily recognize the traces of OPL on the item.

She decided to attack first, swinging directly at her to get a measure of how she fights.

Mei parried the swing with breezy ease, then followed up with a thrust aimed at Cristina’s collarbone, before saying, “I have my ship’s cannons aimed at your comrades. Would you like to see them die? Also, give this a thought; if this timeline was overridden by data from the Main Timeline, your sister won’t be serving the Downward Descent, right?”

Cristina easily evaded the thrust with the slightest of margins before aiming her own, in her mind are ideas on how she’ll get the upperhand in this spontaneous duel. Only for her body and mind to suddenly stop at the woman's words. She did need to keep her allies alive as much as she could. And her sister being safe was too tempting to just ignore.

“Speak.” she ordered, her sword an inch away from her neck.

Mei smiled, then said, “Right now, I am not planning on abducting you or using your comrades as hostages. Rather, all I want is for you to think my offer over; come over to us and much suffering will be averted. After all, for all your friend’s optimism… Your trip here is on the verge of failure, is it not? So when your darkest hour comes, think of me and call me - I’ll even give you a phone.”

She then pulled a burner phone out of her pocket and threw it at Cristina to catch, saying, “Take it, and I’ll leave you alone for today. Then, when the darkest hour proves your friend’s words wrong… I’ll be waiting.”

Mei caused the ship to vanish. She and Cristina began to fall.

Then Mirage Space was deactivated, and Cristina, Myron, and Roberto were back in Phnom Penh… But Mei was gone, the last that could be seen of her was the hem of her dress vanishing into a corner.

Cristina looked at the phone in her hand, logically she knew that she shouldn't use it; she knew that she should destroy it now to prevent any temptations. Emotionally, this is a path to saving her. There is no world where she would let this go. So she kept the phone in her jacket and faced her friends at Obsidian.

“Let's get out of here,” she spoke as she dematerialized her Sinagtala. Meanwhile, the phone felt like a recovering alcoholic’s bottle for her.

Just one call and her wish would be granted, it felt so fake.

”Look… you heard the speech I gave Mei. You ought to think about it, too. You ever try to put the toothpaste back in the tube, when you were a kid? All it does is waste a whole lot of toothpaste. And get your hands sticky. And ruins your Mom’s–” He shook his head. ”You’re a grownup, so that’s the last thing I’m going to say about it. To you–” he looked at the rest of the team, rushing to check on them, ”-- or anybody else. You’ll make the right call.”

He waved at the approaching Obsidian team. ”Man, you guys are not going to believe the day we are having…””

END

OFFICIAL GM POST (Auxiliary); Posting as Co-GM

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, Phnom Penh, Cambodia - 11/11/2022 05:42 UTC+7

Compromising images and missives paraded on Ambassador Bunmak’s screen. He furrowed his brow. His initial reaction was that his phone had been hacked. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He promptly powered off his cellphone, cracked open the backside, and jettisoned the battery. His components now helplessly arranged on his table, he watched his compatriots gradually consume the same information that befell him. General Pham roared with laughter, beckoning colleagues to witness the embarrassing smut. “Huo Ren, you bastard! You lovable pervert!”

The cheerful Vietnamese likely meant only one thing. His gaze panned to the Chinese delegation, which scrambled to censor the uncensorable. Transparency was an unusual phenomenon for the People’s Republic. Huang Zhang alone maintained decorum, casually clacking away at some manner of file on a laptop.

Bunmak threw his hand behind him, summoning his aide with a couple snaps. He dispatched her as quickly as he received her, with the following instructions: “Check Ambassador Huang. Tell him that we don’t hold him responsible, and ask if he requires aid.” Within this humiliation was opportunity. When all fingers were pointed in mockery, an outstretched hand would be welcome.

As his underling ran off, he glanced towards the sidelined American and Russian delegations. They certainly had the technological capabilities. Was it them? Their confusion seemed equally sudden. There were doubtless malicious actors outside the usual suspects. He must pay closer attention than before.

He approached the Cambodian security officer on duty. “Excuse me, sir. I have suspicions that a malicious actor has compromised this convention. Do you have remedies for this?”

The officer shrugged. “Return to your seat. We’ll handle things.”

Bunmak gave the agent an uneasy look, unamused by such a curt answer. He shook the thought out of his head as he returned to his desk. He’d work to conclude.

The Thai woman made contact with the Chinese man. He nodded as she spoke, then closed and lifted his laptop. He abandoned his own, personally crossing the floor. Huang appeared to be a genuine fellow. Maybe he was that professional. Perhaps he acknowledged the situation's gravity. Either way, rational actors could be reasoned with.

Bunmak stood up and offered a slight bow, which Huang returned. “Distractions can be so unpleasant, can’t they?” Huang grinned, hiding a grimace. “We take care of the situation as we speak. No need for your assistance. Thank you for the offer.”

Bunmak reseated on his throne. “The negotiations we settle overshadow any leak. Thousands of lives are at stake, possibly millions.” He reconstructed his phone. “If I were you, though, I’d disassociate immediately with this… Huo Ren, and collect the remnant pieces.”

“If only bureaucracy was so intelligent,” Huang laughed. “We’re demanding access to and control of the Cambodian internet. The Kingdom sends back… mixed messages. I know I wouldn’t let outsiders through our own firewall.” He reopened his computer and flittered a password over the keys. A bright white virtual page greeted the two. “I took the Philippine proposal and tried to incorporate as much as possible into this new version.”

Bunmak skimmed the document for loopholes. Huang had done his homework, yet apparently conceded on nearly every article. “Looks good,” Bunmak sighed, “I see no reason why we can’t agree to this.”

“Given, well, unfortunate recent events,” Zhang commented, “We want a principal coauthor from across the aisle. Are you interested?”

Bunmak knew. China was too controversial to present resolutions alone. They’d be guaranteed to fail. They needed someone on the outside. Bunmak would accommodate, but not for free. “So long as I introduce it,” he smiled.

Huang and Bunmak saw eye to eye. “I’d hoped you’d say that, Ambassador. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” A few keyboard presses, and a distant printer whirred. Yet more, and the draft was uploaded to a secure shared convention server.

“Likewise.”

The gavel swung, and the ever authoritative voice of Tilki presided over the dying commotion. “As per multiple parties' requests, the People’s Republic of China's and Indonesia's included, the dais waives the remaining recess and calls this session again to order. I hope the additional time was used wisely.” He raised an eyebrow at lingering juvenile snickers at the incriminating documentation.

No more opportune time could be devised. Bunmak raised his voice. “Your Honor, the Kingdom of Thailand presents a draft representing a merger between the previous two. With permission from our peers, we wish to waive the reading and jump straight to the vote. The document should be available for everyone to view, regardless of a vocal reading.”

Soner Tilki checked his computer, then shrugged. “Recognized. Do you have a motion to approve this bill?”

“Yes, a roll call vote, please.”

“I second,” announced the Indonesian delegate.

Tilki called out delegations from across the assembly. They trusted Bunmak, and rightfully so. Every station called out “Aye.” What a surprise for ASEAN members, then, that Ambassador Huang Zhang at last concurred with them. A seamless, unanimous approval. An engineered miracle, earlier than the convention's first lunchtime, no less! The crowd applauded.

Tilki struck his gavel. “Well, that’s progress. At the dais's discretion, we’ll resume the aforementioned recess unless otherwise requested. There are things I wish to do by noon.”

As the delegates rose to fraternize, a familiar trot of footsteps in unison were heard beyond the hall. Bunmak, curious, peered through the doorway to find Lieutenant Channery Chea with her brother and her troop marching downstairs to attention near the building's entrance.

A firm grip held his shoulder; it was the soldier from before. “I told you we’d manage it, sir,” he chuckled. “You do your job, and we’ll do ours.”

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@DammitVictor

As the deep blue of the ocean gave way to the emerald green of the shallows, Sam watched the boats and coral reefs sweep by below. Five years ago, before the weapon now in his armpit holster had changed his life and made him grow up, he probably would have passed a trip this long with his face buried in his phone, even one as beautiful as a low-altitude flight over the Gulf of Thailand. Probably would have been reading some generic webcomic or arguing with strangers online about proper anime watch orders. He cringed a little, internally. Feeling a little introspective, he wondered if self-indulgent, time-wasting behavior like that emerged out of a lack of gratitude. He knew for certain that he hadn't shown his parents the gratitude they deserved for the comfortable life he got from them. Running missions and living rough over the past few years had really drilled that into him.

As he looked around the interior of the helicopter, he came out of his little reverie and noticed one of the Obsidian backup operators - all non-Masters, just normal soliders - fidgeting a little. A younger man, Filipino. He seemed to remember from the briefing him being new to the team. Unbuckling and shifting over to the other side of the aircraft, he sat down next to him. "Howya feelin'?" Sam's Filipino wasn't as good as his English, but it seemed to be appreciated, since the young man answered honestly instead of putting up a machismo front. "I'm just a little nervous, haha. And that..." He paused, and looked at the floor; his tone dropped. "... and that seems stupid, since nothing's really happened yet." Sam placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder, managing to rest a pinky and ring finger on the skin of the neck. He began lowering the man's adrenaline and cortizol as he said, "Nah, that's pretty much universal. After all, when something's happening, then you can focus on that and do something about it. When nothing's happening, but you know it might go ass-up at any moment, that's scary, cuz' you can't do anything about it. That's why a lot of the guys here smoke in their downtime - hell, I'd be smoking right now if not for being in the helicopter." He pulled a Kretek out of a pocket in his grey jumpsuit and wagged it around to illustrate the point. The young soldier exhaled and relaxed a little, it seems Sam's words - and discreet hormone adjustment - had their intended effect.

His headphones crackled, and the pilot spoke: "We're approaching Kampong Som now; ETA to Phnom Penh, two hours."

Sister Marta Rocha

Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022

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.

"I'm starting to see it's zero to one hundred in two seconds flat with Task Force Obsidian," 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.

"But I'm ready to help. What's the game plan?"

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.

Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:00 UTC+7, which is 7:00, UTC+8

The Cambodian Army, Police, and Special Forces were gathered around the Convention Center, ranging tanks, armored personnel vehicles, and even heavy machine guns in front of the building as if the enemy were inside the premises, not on their borders. It was clear that they were waiting for a moment of justification for future treachery, and this moment came sooner than anyone would have liked when the speakers turned on and the voice of Cambodia's Prime Minister, whom the politically astute remembered to be a ruthless, tight-fisted man who had reduced the parliamentary opposition's power to almost nothing, rang through the halls:

"People of Cambodia, members of the Army, I regret to inform you that a member of our Parliament, Phuong Keo, has been murdered... By one of the members of Task Force Obsidian, Callie Lindmann. This, in turn, is a nefarious act of treachery, which in turn adds to various minor slights our great nation has received from the Vietnamese and the Thai, including dragging us into the ASEAN War in the first place. Thus, we declare the dissolution of the conference held in this country and Cambodia - And Laos' - departure from ASEAN, the nationalization of all assets belonging to other ASEAN nations, and the arrest of all ASEAN-loyal personnel in the country - Starting with Task Force Obsidian."

---

"We're fighting our way out of here!" Noel Alonso proclaimed as he barked into the comms, "Myron, Nico, everyone, we need to reach the Mekong River; I already called for extraction but they'll take two hours to arrive!"

Then suddenly, the walls dividing the Philippine delegation's office exploded, and Superbia - The first Superbia Avatar, not the 'Yulian' one - entered the room. In one of his large, calloused hands was held, by the hair, the head of Lei Qingshe, detached from the rest of the body and trailing blood as it swung carelessly from the man's hand. Superbia then threw the head onto the floor before them, saying to Noel, Maria, Henri, Aoi, and Nil, "Your greatest hope has been lost by my hand. Look at your future, and despair."

Behind him were several elite members of the Cambodian Special Forces, many of them mundane soldiers who had only assault rifles, anti-materiel rifles, heavy pistols, and flash-bang grenades; they were facing Henri, ready to shoot. But all that did was embolden Noel as he said, "Henri, use your power to erase this Avatar! The rest of us will hold back the enemy troops!"

Here was hoping Henri was not suddenly paralyzed by despair or ennui or some other emotion, otherwise, Noel would surrender himself so that the rest of the group could get away...

---

As for Team Myron, they were exhausted, had gone through hell, and now their allies had betrayed them. How can things get worse?

Well, their floor was an exposed position and the Cambodian forces were now raining down machine gun fire at them through the windows, while snipers shot armor-piercing and explosive rounds at the same time. And dare we mention the grenades and grenade launchers, which were hurling incendiaries at them to set the area ablaze?

Oh, and Iranian-made drones zoomed into their area to attempt a kamikaze attack on their position just a few seconds later; Cristina would have to shoulder most of the fighting despite her exhaustion unless the others came up with a plan.

---

Nico, meanwhile, only had flash bangs and tear gas canisters shot at him through the window. He'd evade those easily considering how his Noble Arm was suddenly empowered by an infusion of magical energy that nevertheless marked the arrival of an enemy; it was an open secret that Huo Ren could not choose who his Noble Arm's leakage of power made stronger as long as the other Noble Arm had a fitting theme (Sun or Fire).

And indeed he was, his spear drawn and his eyes gleaming with greedy desire. Accompanying him was Yulian, who was carrying a strange sword, closer to a baton or small lance, that glowed with spinning red script.

"Qingshe is dead," Huo Ren had the temerity to announce. "The embarrassment I was put through today has been more than made up for, as now, I have been avenged. And now, thanks to Mr. Suburov here, I will have what I want..."

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@DammitVictor@PrinceAlbert

"No, no, no" Henri hissed as he listened to the declaration.

Everything that could have gone wrong had. Not only was Cambodia now de facto enemy, but their unit was public enemy number 1.

"Y-yes sir!" Henri confirmed as Noel laid out their plans.

Not that escape would be any easier even when fighting. Henri didn't know how well the Cambodian army was trained in Anti-NA combat, but a well placed bullet could change a game. And they weren't exactly wearing armor. It was then that Superbia made its move.

Henri looked at the situation. On one, there were the troops. On the other, Superbia. The power would be easily dealth with by Leonidas, but that would leave him exposed to the guns of the soldiers. Worse, the office was tiny, 15 meters in diameter at most. If Henri activated the field now, it would affect everyone. He would need to get really close to Superbia and the soldiers.

Close? That was it! Superbia was standing on the ground, not floating. Leonidas could still neutralize things by touch in the passive state. It would be risky, to say the least, to charge into the crowd, but Leonidas would give actual cover and the rest of the team could still fight.

Henri put Leonidas in front of him and charged towards Superbia, hoping the rest of the team would be able to give him the promised cover.

The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 6:45 UTC+8

The conference was boring Nil out of her mind, it’s hard to say if before she even tried to listen to what was being said, but now she definitely wasn’t.

Fortunately while sitting on the side, the talking could feel more like background noise, annoying but not roaring, yet. This means Marta’s job was quite easy as Nil was dulled, but at least not irritated, instead opting to silence the world and scratch her seat.

When Noel arrived to gather the Task Force, Nil initially noticed the rest of her companions spring up from their seats and hurriedly got to their leader. Unwittingly and frankly bored, she followed the rest of the team, making sure to wave her arm as if she actually knew anyone there.

Things were going to get worse with every second.

Noel was visibly stressed as he talked to himself, he was probably speaking to the commies, commas, c-somethings.

She was absorbed in such language considerations when Superbia made his entrance, an unintendedly amusing one without his words, as Nil still had her mufflers on. He looked kinda like a… ventriloquist dummy? What even is that? Why did that analogy come to mind?

But now wasn’t the time to muse on words, so she removed her mufflers just in time to hear Noel’s orders.

Enemy Troops? Shoot? Who?

Nil was too confused by the Cambodian turning against them and in the first crucial moments just saw Superbia as their enemy, but Henri was charging straight to him.

In confusion she prepared Stang looking around the room for the enemies.

Sister Marta Rocha

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022

"Speaking of kinetic times- "

Stepping to the side, the Sister grips the back of an office desk and heaves it forward. With an ear-splitting crack of polished wood being subject to sudden and unexpected ballistic stress, a formerly disk-shaped object slams into a group of soldiers and sends them flying straight through the back wall.

"- you don't have to tell me twice, Noel! Consider them held back!"

This said, she grins impishly as she aims an errant mug she found. That's the fun thing about this left arm, she thought. Everything I can grab is artillery.

Cristina

If there is one thing Cristina will regret on this day, it is not helping Callie, if she helped her capture or kill her father they might’ve got a convenient scapegoat for this mess.

But that thought is not here or there because once again they are getting surrounded.

---

Cristina took one look at the situation with unphased composure, she is tired but she still has a few more air left in her tank thanks to Qingshe’s lessons. Not that she can say the same thing to her allies.

One quick peek made it clear to her, these soldiers are here to go for the kill and one mistake will mean her end.

She took a deep breath as he looked at Myron, “When I say three, get out and run for your lives.” she declared.

“One”

She then created half-dozen Blinding Stars as their cover was beginning to give way against overwhelming firepower.

“Two”

She launched the light in different directions each assaulting the eyes of the unfortunate soldiers who looked.

“Three”

The freelancer disappeared and suddenly the room was filled with silence, giving Myron and Berto the chance to flee.

---

Mirage Space

Cristina looked from above as the confused soldiers stopped firing, the loud one must be their leader.

She immediately warped to his back and sent his head flying away before disappearing.

She is not trapped with them.

In this space, they are the ones trapped with her.

Nico, meanwhile, only had flash bangs and tear gas canisters shot at him through the window. He'd evade those easily considering how his Noble Arm was suddenly empowered by an infusion of magical energy that nevertheless marked the arrival of an enemy; it was an open secret that Huo Ren could not choose who his Noble Arm's leakage of power made stronger as long as the other Noble Arm had a fitting theme (Sun or Fire).

And indeed he was, his spear drawn and his eyes gleaming with greedy desire. Accompanying him was Yulian, who was carrying a strange sword, closer to a baton or small lance, that glowed with spinning red script.

"Qingshe is dead," Huo Ren had the temerity to announce. "The embarrassment I was put through today has been more than made up for, as now, I have been avenged. And now, thanks to Mr. Suburov here, I will have what I want..."

Nico made the conscious decision to ignore everything that Huo Ren had to say, summoning and igniting his Noble Arm. As soon as he felt the influx of power from the artificial sun, Nico moved like a blur, batting away flashbangs and exploding tear gas canisters long before they got within reach of him. He wasn’t quite sure why it was all happening, but he knew that the people firing through the window weren’t actively trying to kill him. No point giving them a reason to start using real bullets.

With little hesitation, Nico rushed down the Dragon with a Wildfire Dance boosted swipe, seemingly trying to cut the Dragon in two.

Huo Ren twirled his spear and fought defensively, blocking each slash and cut while allowing himself to be pushed back by his assailant, even as Yulian, seemingly content with letting his ally be on the backfoot, smiled and stepped out of the way of the fight, letting the ‘Dragon’ sweat for his rewards.

But sweating or not, Huo Ren knew how to fight, to cover multiple points with his spear’s shaft, not risking a chance to counterattack as his mind began to grasp how outclassed he was by this young mercenary, who was more than a pretty face and honed body.

Then, the sound of chains began to ring behind Nico Makri as he fought…

Nipping that in the bud before it nips me in the face. With a quick use of Radiant Burst to blind the Dragon, Nico sent a massive Wildfire strike behind him, and another towards Yulian to be safe.

But it was clear that Nico was through with playing cautiously. It was now or never again, and the Dragon slipped away twice now. Nico swapped hands, using his dominant right hand to attempt to yank Huo Ren off balance, using his foot to try to trip the Zodiac.

In response, Huo Ren staggered back further, not hiding the fact that he was struggling against an opponent that was cutting loose, even as Yulian, some ways behind Nico, had caused chains to flash into existence from underneath his cloak; there were four, each one darting towards the Greek’s limbs even as that strange Noble Arm’s blade/baton/whatever continued spinning.

Nico let Huo Ren stagger back, turning his attention to the chains aimed at him. “Thanks for the help, paper dragon. But I’ve got better shit to take care of.” He took a couple steps forward, which covered a significant amount of distance at his speed.

What little Nico gleaned from his last fight with Superbia made him very aware that any amount of time for the Downward Descent leader to prepare was too much. So, he improvised, using Wildfire Dance to stab at Yulian’s face from a distance with a more focused wave of flames.

Yulian continued to smile as his chains swatted away the wave of fire, then, he pointed his spinning baton at Nico, before saying, “Hmm… I changed my mind.”

The chains withdrew, as the blond caused his baton to disperse into rectangular fragments of data and instead drew another weapon, a freezing bluish-white blade that glowed with bright runes.

One swing at Nico and a wave of strong winds, carrying ice and frost, filled the corridor. At the same time, Huo Ren launched a volley of fireballs at the youth’s back; when the ice and fire met, the room would fill with steam.

“Right stupid you two are, huh?” Without the chains to keep track of, Nico could fight at his pace, moving from the pincer attack. He used an explosive strike to kick a hole through one of the room’s walls, letting the steam escape. Nico used the remaining steam in the room as cover to once again go after the Dragon, the only sign of his overhead swing being the flames wrapped around Helios Rod, beginning to turn from orange to yellow with the increased heat.

That was enough for Huo Ren to block the glowing sword with the blade of his spear, even as the chains re-appeared once more; this time, they were covered in frost as they tried to wrap around Nico Makri’s feet and left hand.

Nico’s expression was filled with shock, as he sidestepped the chains, moving backwards and then lunging forward to strike once again. The flames around Helios Rod grew even brighter, a bit of heat haze beginning to form around the blade as the temperature spiked. Just a little bit more, just a little bit more.

Huo Ren sent a whip of superheated hydrogen to curl itself around Nico’s foot as the young swordsman began to sidestep, even as the chains drew back, their wielder building up an unholy purple darkness that gathered onto his sword’s blade…

As the whip came for Nico, his expression became a mocking smile, looking straight at the Zodiac. “You’re way too easy to bait, ain’t ya, salamander?!” Nico had made a risky fakeout, but it ended up being a success. He only knew a few things about Huo Ren: how cocky he was, and the fact the Dragon’s own fire burned him. Even during the day, Nico had at least a bit of heat resistance, and it was all he needed.

The buildup of heat for Wildfire Dance was a crucial step, even if it was nearly unbearable after a prolonged period. But Nico was more than fine with it, at least in this moment. With no warning or fanfare, Nico smacked Helios Rod against the room’s floor, letting a massive pillar of flames engulf both Sun users.

Yulian smiled; Nico and Huo Ren were on the second floor, and the pillar both broke through the floors above that and the roof while melting the ground they stood on all the way to the basements.

Huo Ren had vanished; it was unknown if Cao Bao had managed to retrieve and reconstitute him or if he was actually dead. But now, Nico was falling to the depths of the building, Yulian’s chains multiplied to eight, then sixteen, pursuing him…

Nico used the freshly made pit in the building to grab onto the edges of the hole in the first floor, hoisting himself up. While he would normally try the door, there wasn’t time for gentlemanly behavior. Instead, he blew another hole through the window and hopped out, running as fast as he could while Sun Stoked.

The window led right into the massing Cambodian forces, specifically on top of one of their BTR-60s, which was now directly able to fire its machine gun, capable of eviscerating even an Arms Master, at him. Without hesitation, its gunner did so, and a stream of bullets were fired at Nico’s position; enough to tear off arms, legs, and the head.

To add to the overkill, there were a platoon of soldiers around the BTR-60, all firing rifles at Nico even as more of Yulian’s chains darted at the young man’s limbs; to take them was his only apparent hope.

Nico made the split second decision to duck beneath the lip of the armored carrier, tossing his Noble Arm out into the open. “Hey, hey, I surrender, I surrender! Let’s talk this out, before this Descent crony grabs me! I swear to my life that I won’t try anything, just don’t shoot!”

One of the squad spoke English and she said, “Fully dispel your Noble Arm!,” as she accepted his surrender.

A few seconds passed. For a brief moment, it looked as though it would be all right. Then, a dark lance of dark purple matter that radiated un-light - Darkness - engulfed them all.

The squad trying to take him in. The APC. And Nico Makri himself, unless he managed to pull off another miraculous dodge.

Nico stood his ground, using Radiant Burst in an attempt to dispel as much of the darkness as he could. From his position, he shouted a rather simple request. “Whatever ya got, unload it into that building I just came from! Superbia’s inside and I know he’s worth more than some hotel clerk like me!”

The Radiant Burst was only enough to clear his body of the overwhelming pain from the agony beam, a beam that caused the mundane soldiers to writhe on the ground as though their bones and nerves were being melted inside their bodies, screaming themselves hoarse, tearing apart their own vocal cords in an effort to express their own unspeakable agony.

Then it ceased, as Yulian Suburov, bowing to the demands of pragmatism, radioed the rest, saying in English and Cambodian, “What is he talking about?! I am Yulian Suburov, observer from the Russian Federation! This young man is crazy, hand him over to -”

Then he leapt down from the second floor, his fall slowing to allow the blond to land on his feet. He then pulled out his sword once more, purple dark un-light gathering around it, as he said, to Nico, “On second thought… If I am Superbia, I can probably cause them all to suffer and pass it off as friendly fire.”

Stretching out his blade, even as a chain crawled towards Nico’s discarded blade, Superbia/Yulian smirked and said, “Here’s an idea; if you actually care about your enemies so much, hand yourself over to me.”

Nico dispelled Helios Rod at seeing the chain move closer to it, walking over to the Cambodian platoon and giving a slight nod. “Sorry that you got lumped into this, that’s on me. But I surrender to Cambodia, not him. I’ll even radio my squad mates, tell them to calm down so we can all talk this out.”

“As for you,” He turned to Yulian with a fury like the sun in his eyes. “If so much as a drop of innocent blood is spilled, I’ll kill ya, god or otherwise. They aren’t my enemies. Enemies don’t let people eat nice food and invite people to fancy stuff.”

Yulian began breathing harder, but a look at his face and lips showed that it was not due to anger, but a spike of desire, as he rasped out, “I can see why Huo Ren wants you… The perfect gentleman even towards those turned against him.”

He then turned away and began to fly up, saying, “I’ll just take my consolation prize - Noel.”

His cape fluttered behind him as he presented his back to Nico, daring him to attack.

He rolled his eyes, taking out his radio to message the rest of Task Force Obsidian. “This is Volunteer Nico Makri. Good news, I got these good people to stop trying to turn us into Swiss cheese. Bad news, Superbia might just be on the way over. Over.”

He turned to the platoon. “Mind telling your guys to not kill my colorful comrades? I’m sure there’s a way to explain all of this without anyone dying today.”

The interpreter, who was trying to recover, said, “We can, but orders from higher-up are -”

Footsteps could be heard walking towards them, it was the Cambodian Arms Master who had accompanied them earlier - Dara Chea, was it?



The man’s next words were, “Your comrade, Callie Lindmann, has literally been caught having murdered one of our Assembly - What we call our Parliament - members. And by that… She was framed. Our Government hired her father, a wanted terrorist and a former member of the Hammer of Masters, to lure her over so she can be in the same room as the murdered Assemblyman, one of ASEAN’s allies, by the way.”

He then turned to Nico, making eye contact with the youth, “My sister is in on their plans, but after seeing you do your job, like heck I am.”

There was a platoon of Cambodian Soldiers around to listen to the exchange; probably more with how many of them were surrounding the building. Dara Chea then extended a hand to Nico and said, “Let’s do a counter-coup, shall we?”

Nico smiled goofily at how well his - not even a plan - reckless optimism paid off, shaking Dara Chea’s hand with his own large one. “Thank the gods, it makes sense. And sure. I’m all for that ‘taking down evil regimes’ thing.”

On top of a nearby rooftop, Diligence, Avatar of Industria of the Seven Virtues, was nursing a heavy nosebleed…

END

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@DammitVictor@PrinceAlbert

Mission Four Climax Post Summary:

- Huo Ren is *probably* dead.
- Yulian decided to retreat to try and capture Noel.
- Biggest Plot Twist: Nico's duel with Yulian/Superbia II and the latter's willingness to harm and threaten his own allies convinced the Cambodian Troops surrounding the building to turn on the Cambodian Government and return to ASEAN service. This was not something Bee had planned, but is a very well-earned reward.

Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:17 UTC+7, which is 7:17, UTC+8

The point of collision between Henri's Noble Arm and the Avatar of Superbia flashed a bright, radioactive green as the latter's magical energy was dispersed, allowing Marta to throw furniture. Noel shot his favored submachine gun at the Cambodians, who were not hesitating to dive for cover, then fired back, filling the office with a steady spray of armor-piercing bullets that scattered splinters of wood, shattered computer equipment and printers, and were enough to shatter arms and limbs as the cramped confines of the area provided little effective cover.

As the light grew brighter, from green to yellow-green to green-white, the Arms Masters' eyes would hurt while the Cambodian Elite Infantry, who were wearing their combat helmets and body armor, kept shooting; their priority was Nil, whom they knew was a powerful ranged attacker whose indecision won't last forever.

Due to that indecision, only a miracle would save her from having several limbs and her gut perforated with bullets, thus forcing her 'Arms Master Survivability' to divert vital power from her Noble Arm to keeping her body alive; she might be able to get off one shot from her staff, but by then the Elite Troopers were using the light from Henri's destruction of the opposing Avatar as their cover.

Superbia's Avatar himself had dissolved into a glowing green mass, one that was igniting itself on contact with Henri's shield into one final blast of light, one that would fill the room for a few crucial seconds where the helmeted troopers were able to shoot at Marta and Noel, concentrating their fire on the former but shooting enough to finally corner the latter in the relatively cramped space of the office.

Once the light faded, Henri would find that he had utterly defeated his foe and was spared from temporary blindness due to his shield. However, it was clear that these completely mundane troops were rubbing the floor with them due to terrain, surprise, and the fact that their armor-piercing bullets were chewing through desks, equipment, and even walls.

And this was before they began tossing flash bangs all over the place, confident that their helmets and earplugs would save them from it. They were not allowing Marta or Nil a break, even with the Avatar of Superbia gone. Then, before they can turn their guns on Henri...

Shots were fired - More mundane weapons - At the flanks and rear and through the walls of the corridors. It was other Cambodian soldiers, Regular Infantry who had shot at their comrades to save Task Force Obsidian. The reason why? Well, as their medics approached the now-wounded and probably incapacitated members of TFO, one of those who knew English would say, "The Prime Minister was lying about you guys. He is the real traitor and we're dealing with him soon..."

Would they notice, however, that Noel had disappeared?

---

Cristina would slaughter all inside her Mirage Space, starting with the automated Iranian Shaheed Drones and ending with the unfortunate Cambodian Army folk who had ended up inside. Once Mirage Space had ended, however, and she had returned to the mundane world, Myron would radio her with, "Nico got the rest of the Cambodian Forces surrounding the building to side with us and turn against their Prime Minister! But they're still heavily outnumbered and more Iranian Drones are coming towards -"

But Cristina can already see another wave of a dozen Shaheed Drones, radio-controlled suicide craft made by the Iranians for their Chinese and Russian allies, heading towards them all. Will she lament killing folk who would have returned to their side had she not put them in Mirage Space, or will she decide to save the rest?

As for Robert, he would observe the sudden shift in fortune, even as he heard Myron shout over the radio, presumably to one of their reinforcements, "Volunteer Sewojo, we still need your helicopters here as soon as possible! The tide of battle is turning in our favor for now, but we need reinforcements!"

Then he turned to Robert as more explosions and gunfire were heard, "We're going to need you to set up a triage; I have medical supplies, you can heal and repair. If we can hold out here long enough, we can get more Cambodians to defect and turn the tide in our favor!"

---

'Yulian Suburov', the second avatar of Superbia, had followed through on his threat. Noel Alonso, First Lieutenant and head of Task Force Obsidian, was now chained up at the back of a truck. Accompanying him was Shen Tu, who had been arrested shortly after Huo Ren's presumed death as a suspect in the exposure and embarrassment that occurred before that - It had been easy to find out that it was his work that the exposure had succeeded in the first place. Now, the other young man was chained and collared, yet still glaring at Yulian as though eyes could kill him the entire trip to Gansu, where he planned to take control of Huo Ren's old prison... It was ambiguous whether Cao Bao had stepped in one last time to save his superior.

Either way, he got two for the price of one, even if he had lost the chance to take Nico Makri...

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@DammitVictor@PrinceAlbert

Cristina

The freelancer allowed herself to slightly lose composure, she admittedly messed up and got involved in a friendly fire. She was definitely would pay for it one day, maybe a little closer than she would wish. But for now, after taxing the limits of her Noble Arms twice in a row, she was too tired to care for trivial details.

She could leave now, she was too tired, her presence might cause conflict to the unexpected alliance. She knew everyone will understand if a bit disappointed if she went through.

"Are you going to run again." her voice echoed in her head as she tries to leave. Was that a...

...yeah they still need her, she couldn't run just yet.

She moved to a nearby balcony with her bloodied Noble Arm as her crutch, she was stretching her limits but her enemies felt they never lost numbers.

Seeing the futility of trying to call upon her domain for the third time in the row, the blood soaked girl resorted to throwing as many [Shooting Stars] as she could to the drones and whatever stuff her enemies will throw. It was a mindless, yet enormous bombardment a lone stars final yell in this very long night.

She didn't know many attacks she threw or what happened soon after, all she knew was she gave her all until she lost consciousness.

It wouldn't be enough for her sister to forgive her but she hopes it could be a start.

As the lead helicopter skimmed low along the Mekong, Sam held a finger to his headset and called back to Robert in English "Sewojo here. We're almost within sight of the conference center. I wish I could say we'd be there momentarily, but- " Sam grunted and gripped the railing as the helicopter banked sharply; a rocket-propelled grenade hit the water just a little behind where the helicopter was before. It probably made a very satisfying "PLOP" sound but, alas, this was drawned out by the helicopter's rotors and the intermittent machine-gun fire. "But the Cambodians started getting very unfriendly about halfway up our cruise of the Mekong. Clearing a path for evacuation with minimal collateral damage will be complicated."

He took his finger off the transmitter and in a fast, but smooth and unhurried, motion drew his weapon out of his armpit holster with the freed hand and squeezed off two shots. They caught the helmeted head of a Cambodian, firing the top-mounted gun of an APC chasing them down a road along the Mekong. The gunner jerked back and disappeared into the vehicle. From this distance, he couldn't know the exact effects his shots had, but he figured it gave him a moment to finish his conversation. He holstered his revolver and resumed speaking with a finger on the headset. "There's an office bulding on the west bank of the Mekong they're using as a firing position. To get that dealt with, we'll need to get a team up to the building. If you can draw some fire off of us, that'll help; if not, we'll do our best anyways. Sewojo out."

@DammitVictor

The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 7:17 UTC+8

Things did, in fact, get worse.

As Nil scanned the room for enemies, finally she realized it must be the guys behind Superbia… pointing their guns at her.

Taken by surprise by the sudden shrapnel and bullets fired, Nil had little time to react and did so instinctively, raising her arms to cover the head. Without understanding much of what was going on she threw Stang but, as can be expected from someone being shot at and her eyes covered, it missed completely, blowing a hole in the wall and raising even more dust and debris in the room.

Unfortunately instincts weren’t made with bullets in mind and Nil was indeed going to be target practice for the Cambodian Elites.

Sister Marta Rocha

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022

Before the Soldiers' bullets could perforate Nil, Marta suddenly jumps before her, holding a gauntlet of radiant whites and greens.

"Thirty-Three Seconds exactly! Everyone, hang in just a moment longer-"

In the very moment in which heavy lead riddles the Sister's skull, a radiant light flashes throughout the room. In that instant, all injuries simply vanish as flesh reknits itself. Bruises disappear into thin air as inflammation is erased, and even fatigue is eliminated as ischemic muscles return to perfect rest. Everyone within 33 meters is completely and perfectly healed.

Marta staggers in place, fighting the horrible pain as several bullets are pushed out of her now-untouched cranium. One step later second fusillade hits and her teeth crack from the sheer pressure needed to stop herself from crying out. One more flash of verdant green, and they're restored, alongside the bits of intestine that had gone flying. Tearing a strip of cloth from her habit with her teeth, she bites down hard as she rushes the soldiers. One more flash, then another, then another, she bulls through the hail of bullets, tears streaming from boggled eyes.

The frontline soldiers balk in temporary astonishment; all the time she needs to deliver a devastating gut punch, grab the soldier and trip him over her, grappled to serve as a shield.

Then, she allows herself to scream in agony.

"That balcony there." Sam leaned past the pilot and pointed to a small patio on the fifth floor of the office building. From there, they could ascend the building and clear the roof. The gunships above and in front of them drew fire as his helicopter diverted off the river, toward their entry point. The rest of the group circled back, along the east bank of the Mekong. They would be able to land near the conference center once they cleared off the Cambodians on the roof.

The balcony was on opposite side of the office building from the besieged conference center, and thus lightly guarded. On a more normal day, Sam mused, a handful of accountants, secretaries, and IT guys would be out at the tables enjoying a lunch break right about now. Sam wondered briefly if the corporate lunch break was as filled with political intrigue and status games as the lunche period in school; a few stray tracers whizzed past the craft and broke his reverie. Ah yes, lightly guarded, but not unguarded. He lilted casually into his headset in Indonesian, "Gunship 3, could I get a little suppressive fire on the fifth floor balcony? Thank you." The reply was not long in coming.

Sam had, especially while a jobless homebody before getting his noble arm, devoted a lot of time to indulging niche interests and absorbing trivia. One semi-common obsession he did not pursue, however, was military vehicles and ordinance. There are many folks who, shown a grainy, black-and-white photograph of some military hardware, could tell you what tank it is, designed by whom, built by which factory, who was using it in that photo, and so on and so forth. Sam wasn't one of those people, so all he could appreciate about the gunship - and its machine gun that proceeded to pepper the patio with bullets - was that it was effective. One Cambodian dropped, the other scrambled through the shattered glass door into the building.

The helicopter sallied up to the balcony and Sam hopped out with the five other operators - three Indonesians and two Filipinos. Two moved to secure the doorway and another knelt by the downed Cambodian. After a quick assessment he looked at Sam and the team leader and shook his head. As if to underscore the urgency of their task, a cacophony overhead prompted Sam to look and see a damaged gunship spiraling toward the riverbank. They formed up and made their way inside.

Sam was second in line, revolver drawn and tuned-in on his headset to developments on the ground. As an arms master, he had some extra durability that a normal human wouldn't, but prudence dictated he wear the same helmet and vest that the other five operators wore. Due to the nature of his powers, though, he had the sleeves of his grey jumpsuit rolled up and wasn't wearing gloves. They needed skin contact to work, after all. In front of him was bulky point man with rifle, and behind him was the team leader - a Javanese man with a thin build - and the medic. Behind them were two more men with submachineguns.

Following the signs in the hallways, they went to the right, then the left, straight past a bunch of copy machines in a narrow hallway, and then right again to a stairway on the east side of the building. Sam couldn't read the Cambodian text, but among the parts in English he saw "NO ROOF ACCESS." He briefly conferred with the team leader in Indonesian. "These stairs won't connect with the roof, but we can probably find access on whatever floor they let off. The lanky Jakartan nodded agreement, "Yeah, lets keep the momentum going and get off this floor before the Cambodians respond." Sam patted twice on the pointman's padded shoulder, and the broad man slammed open the stairway door, with prejudice.

A dozen black boots clambered up the stairs, echoing in every direction. At a glance, Sam saw that they had dozens of flights to climb. Sam had opted to wear American-style jungle boots, flexible and inexpensively-made of canvas and rubber; he picked ones without a steel plate in the sole. One after the other, the stairs flew past underfoot. Boy, was he glad that had opted to sacrifice a little durability in exchange for flexible soles; pounding past all these concrete stairs in steel-toes would have his dogs barking in no time flat.

He checked his watch, worn with the face on the inside of his right wrist - near the lacquered wooden grip of his Noble-Arm revolver. Eleven minutes since they entered the building; with the gunships backed off and one of the guards from the patio running off alive, something bad was bound to come soon. Sam was something of a worry-wart. As if on cue, shouts in Cambodian echoed from below them, and loud cracks from rifles and pistols about eight stories down thundered up to them, and little chips of cinderblock fell on Sam's nose as bullets hit the wall in their vicinity. Crazy acoustics; that actually made the ear not covered by his headset smart a little. No more quietly, he sent a dozen of the 19th-century's most cutting edge leaden slugs down at them, rapid fire. A little trick he had learned from American cowboy movies: he kept the trigger squeezed while slamming back the hammer again and again with his free hand. Visually impressive as it was, it wasn't hardly accurate, and was rather hard on the ears.

This'll be a whole lot louder, he thought, holstering his revolver while the two Philippine soldiers in the back of the line cracked off a few bursts down the stairwell. One hand pulled out a little foam earplug for his uncovered right ear, and the other pulled out a grenade from his chest rig. Off the top of his head, he didn't remember the exact model, but it was smooth and cylindrical, not the pineapple-looking type from moves or cartoons. He pulled out the pin and released the spoon, bellowing out in English as the device ticked away, "Fire in the hole!" He dropped the little thing of the side of the stairs and took a step back from the railing. The vibrations from the subsequent blast emanated off of every concrete surface around him. After a brief pause, the gunfire from below did not resume. He couldn't know whether or not he had timed it such that it was right next to the enemy when it exploded, but what's that English expression about "close enough still counts with horseshoes and hand grenades?"

He turned to continue moving up the stairs, but the bulky pointman didn't budge. Momentarily rattled by the blast- maybe - or any number of other things; Sam didn't judge. A pretty harmless moment to choke, all things considered. He rested a hand on the stout man's neck, and mentally willed a surge of adrenaline and testosterone to flow. "You've got this." The man nodded his head and surged on up the stairs, Sam and the rest close behind.