Mission Four - Knives in Phnom Penh

Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:22 UTC+7, which is 7:22, UTC+8

Cristina had brought down several waves of Iranian-manufactured and covertly imported Shahed Drones before collapsing. Still, it was clear that the Cambodian Pro-ASEAN Rebels were sitting ducks where they were now. So Dara Chea, standing beside Nico, stated, "We're going to have to evacuate the Convention Center anyway; leave the Chinese delegation behind. In the meantime, we have two choices; the Cambodian Grendemaire - Military Police - have their HQ in the south part of the city, which remains loyal to the assholes in the Government, and the Government Buildings themselves are in the northern part - Would you care to suggest a target?"

---

As the helicopters led by Sam arrived at the scene, bringing reinforcements and the prospect of evacuation, Myron would radio their new member and give his orders, "Specialist Sewojo - You've arrived at last! Begin evacuating important diplomatic personnel first; ASEAN and foreign observers only - Leave the Chinese and Russians behind. Also, the Cambodian forces surrounding this building have defected to our side; do not fire on them as long as that is the case."

Roberto, meanwhile, had managed to get to Cristina's location somehow and dragged her inside the building, where Myron and him could guarantee her safety. Then, news arrived that there was heavy fighting in the West of the city, where more forces were joining the Cambodian Rebels and fighting the Cambodian Government's loyalists. There was bloody combat in the East too, but the Government was flying in Russian and Venezuelan mercenaries to aid them in restoring order, meaning that the pro-ASEAN forces there were tied down and unable to help their allies.

Now, the Cambodian Government was ordering a large force to cross the bridges east of Diamond Island; Tanks, Infantry, and APCs, all supported by artillery.

The violence had not ended yet; if anything, it was accelerating.

---

The Cambodian Elite Troopers had incapacitated most of Task Force Obsidian but were now being attacked by members of their Regular Infantry who had decided to be loyal to ASEAN. Marta's counterattack then hit and punched out the last of the foes - Lieutenant Channery Chea herself, who slumped to the floor without any ceremony, just a soft 'thud'.

To spell it out clearly: Cambodian Elite Troopers bad, Regular Infantry (some of them) good. Nico's courage outside had gotten some of the Cambodians to side with them again. But now, with Nil heavily wounded, Henri catatonic, and Aoi disappearing for a while, it was clear that it was going to be a hard choice to stay and fight or join the evacuation.

And, as the rumble of vehicles and artillery was heard from the east, it was clear that they had to make a decision soon before it was made for them. All the while Noel Alonso, their leader, had disappeared, along with their portal maker, Callie.

They also had to mourn Qinghse's death.

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

Sister Marta Rocha

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

Marta shuffles off the ground slowly, her once-pristine habit riddled with bloodstains and bullet holes. Her messy cowl reveals a few stray locks of honey hue, which do nothing to obscure her bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face.

Typically, the Sister would try her best to present a more dignified image, but it's clear to everyone else that her last stunt pushed her conviction to its ragged limits.

"...Is... is anyone hurt... ?"

She clings to her armored fist and looks to the east, where the sound of rumbling artillery draws closer.

"I-I don't want to do that... ever again. Let's get out of here."

(Written in collaboration with @Letter Bee)

Berto tucked his face into the crook of his elbow as he touched Archie’s Lever to the hinges of the door, welding them into solid pieces of metal.

”We’re going to have to rejoin the fighting eventually, but let’s pick the time and place ourselves. And let the rest of our team worry about how they’re going to rescue the kids outside. Right now, our priority’s gotta be the people who are already inside the building, and getting them out of the building.”

Myron nodded and said, “You’re right, Berto. Damn it; I’m supposed to be experienced in espionage; how can I not have seen this coming?”

Either way, the man stood guard over Cristina, even as he asked Berto, “So, you dragged Volunteer Bernardino in? If so, that’s good, because I just received a call; Noel is missing - Presumed MIA.”

”You saw this coming. We planned for it. Crissy’s alive because you were prepared for this and you made sure I was. We keep her alive, we save everyone we can– lock down the birds in the hand before we start looking for birds in the bush. This is your plan, Boss; I’m just out here trying to prove you right.”

Berto moved on to welding the metal in the doorframe together. ”You wanna bring me some of those desks, Sir? Hilarious as it would be to hold this door when the soldiers start crawling through it, I want to be long gone by then.”

Myron nodded and dragged one of the desks to the door, before conjuring up his shield and saying, “Let me amend that plan you have.”

And in six seconds, he conjured up a sheet of thick metal, probably a portion of a prefabricated bunker, and said to Berto, “You can use this.”

”Perfect. What’s our next move?” Berto nailed the sheet into the doorway, Archie’s Lever ringing out like a gunshot a couple of times per second. He paused for a moment to admire his work, and let the ringing in his ears die down. ”Sorry about that, Boss. What’s our next move?”

Myron spoke, “We link up with Marta, Henri, Nil and Aoi - By the way, how did you find Cristina?”

Berto winces. It’s not his turn with Archie’s Lever, not yet– but it’d better be soon if he was going to be much help after this. Better not to let Myron see his shirt until they had time for Berto to take a break. ”Wasn’t easy!” He put a hand inside his jacket and felt the hot, wet stain spreading on his shirt. ”I had a hunch where she’d be. And another hunch. Just kept following them until I found a trail of dead bastards, and I followed it until I found a bunch of live bastards.”

He forgets himself for a moment, and makes a voila/BOOM gesture with his bloodied hands.

”Wouldn’t you know it, Boss, that’s right where I found her.”

Myron nodded at that and said, “I see. So she wound up killing a bunch of people who were going to defect to our side, but haven’t done so yet… This is bad, but also an understandable mistake. Either way, shall we start going to where the others are, now?”

”Well… you know what we call people who haven’t defected to our side yet, right? They didn’t look too friendly when I caught up to them. They can…” Berto gasped. ”They can surrender later. I’ll be happy to debrief them for you… Boss.” Berto sat down on the floor.

”Gonna need a moment here. Didn’t have much time for first aid on the way back.”

Glancing back at Berto, Myron asked, “Do you need first aid? We can’t have you dying on my watch.”

They were wasting time; Noel and Callie were gone, and Qingshe was dead or ‘dead’. Task Force Obsidian was at its weakest point ever and they had to live.

”Little bit of morphine and a stapler, I can help you carry Crissy until we’ve got time to breathe. After that, I’m gonna need a whole-ass medic and you’re probably gonna have to bribe them if you don’t want me forced to sit the rest of this one out. Reyes has a gambling problem if you can find her.”

Myron twitched as he said, “Not necessary; Marta is also a healer and our primary one. Now I hope she’s all right…”

He pushed on, further into the building. He needed to join up with the rest of the group now!

Nodding silently, Berto stripped off his ruined shirt and jacket, tore open a trauma pack, got into the morphine. He squeezed out half the standard dose, sighed audibly, and squeezed out half of the remainder before injecting himself. He took a couple of deep breaths… sighed again, and then started stapling gauze pads directly to his ribs with Archie’s Lever. When he was satisfied with his… well, satisfied, he slipped one of Cristina’s arms over his shoulders and followed Myron once more unto the breach.

Auxiliary Post made by @QJT (Fleshing Out NPC Responses)

Phnom Penh, Cambodia
American Embassy

"So?"

No staff members sat at this moment. They stood attentive at their posts. They hadn't the opportunity to sit down between clocking in and hearing the transpired events. The pressure was simply too great. Their superior paced erratically before the bulletproof windowpanes. When appointed, he expected a cushy gig, spending his tenure partying with the muckety mucks. He didn't expect the war. He certainly didn't foresee the conflict approaching his literal doorstep.

He inhaled once, then exhaled twice. The tension was focused on him; he'd redirect it elsewhere. "Call the President," he ordered.

In one continuous motion, an underling picked up a black business telephone and punched a single button. "This is the Cambodian Embassy. Relay us to- Well, obviously, haven't you seen the TV?" The lass leaned backward and sidestepped her foot. "We understand." Click. "He's coming, and will respond in fifteen."

"We don't have that much time!" he shouted, his unease sending shock waves across his subordinates. "Where the hell could he-"

His secretary reminded him of two analog clocks on the side wall, displaying in bold font "WASHINGTON DC" and "PHNOM PENH" respectively. They both showed identical positions; the left was 6:30 ante meridian and the right was 6:30 postmeridian. "President's away from the Oval Office, probably eating dinner or something."

"Fair enough," the dignitary deflated. "But if I don't hear a ring, I'm taking control of this situation from here. I have the prerogative." He sighed through puckered lips. "I won't be another Chris Stevens."

Manila, Philippines
Naval Station Jose Andrada
Admiralty

Throughout her career as his aide, Jasmine had never witnessed her boss cross his arms as he did presently. He stared at the screen, upright and rigid. His image was a stone, a monolith, but his eyes displayed a blend of anger and consternation that she'd dared not interrupt. But duties called, and lives were at stake. Few had the authority, fewer had the reaction times, and fewest had the willpower to act. "Admiral?"

Abasolo sighed. "Played us like a damn fiddle." He snapped to attention, his countenance glazing over and narrowing into cold calculation. "I need Villanueva, Mendoza, and Baltazar in this room, with their phones, immediately." He sat again at his desk, whipped out a ballpoint, and began to write.

Fortunately, the three officers worked in the same building. It took minutes and a handful of stark words to summon them hither. Abasolo pointed to Villanueva first. "Call the US President. Ask what assets they have locally. Let them know we have Task Force Obsidian in the area if they wish to pool resources to evacuate our parties." She ran the few feet necessary to establish a base.

Baltazar was next, fully prepared with a pencil and notepad. "Get the People's Republic of China," the admiral commanded. "Use the diplomatic channels. Give me their reaction to this, and their official statement."

And to the final minion, "You're the backup. I want you on the receiver, listening to the tone until I order you to punch in a number."

"Admiral." Villanueva had accomplished her task. "He's talking to the American embassy in Phnom Penh. We're twenty third in queue."

"How long would that take?" Jasmine asked.

"Hours. It'd be too late. Doesn't matter," Abasolo responded. "Stay on that line in case." He put a finger to his brow. "Mendoza, fetch me the Japanese."

After painstaking minutes, Mendoza relayed her result. "No dice. Something about the UN."

As if on cue, the television network switched to the visage of a pristine rectangular tower of blue glass. "Hold on, I'm receiving breaking news: the United Nations has convened an emergency special session to address this morning's hostile acts in Cambodia."

The admiral touched his forehead with his fingertip, closing his eyes and furrowing. He spoke his thought process largely to himself but broadly to his acquired staff. "The Americans put us on hold. The Philippines and the USA has a formal alliance, so everyone in front must be internal or allies. That means Japan, most likely, but they're preoccupied with their own internals. We need-" His vision jolted upward. "Jasmine, bring up a map of Phnom Penh, with embassies highlighted."

Jasmine's generation was immersed in tech; it took her mere seconds. "Prepared and ready, sir."

The Chinese actually, surprisingly, responded. Baltazar was left chattering away with his equivalent on the other side of the telephone, asking questions and writing the answers down.

Abasolo parsed through the dots on the screen. "We can't make it to the USA. They're across the city. Japan... it's eight minutes' walk. The Cambodians will be all over the place by then. Too risky." He clapped his hands. "Thailand. They're next door neighbors. Mendoza!" he announced. "Call the Royal Thais. Get an aide in their embassy to walk to the Japanese. Tell them to tell the Japanese to tell the Americans that Task Force Obsidian is in the delegation, and stands by to help them if possible."

"Sir!" Baltazar raised his hand. "The Chinese deny any involvement in the matter. Their delegation is also trapped behind hostile lines. Any action to pacify the Royal Cambodian Army is permitted."

"Because they don't think we're capable of anything anymore." Jasmine swallowed. "Do you think these really are just rogue elements?"

"Whatever I think, they've given us the green light. I plan to take advantage of it."

"But can Task Force Obsidian handle the entire Cambodian military?"

"What?" Abasolo took a moment to gather the data. "No, you misunderstand. They're not protecting the other nations; the other nations protect them. They'll be shielded by security and reinforced by the full American presence in the area. It's an advantage they might not survive without."

"And is it enough?"

Abasolo pursed his lips. "Then they wouldn't have a chance anyways. But I have faith in them. It's my Task Force Obsidian."

Phnom Penh, Cambodia
American Embassy

The American ambassador did sparingly little, merely direct his underlings to where they already headed and bark orders that they already heard while clutching the receiver. "President's orders! Everything goes in the furnace; no documents shall remain! Pack up your bags; we head out in fifteen!"

He returned to the conversation. "Yes, Mister President. We're proceeding without any hiccups. Now, where are the helicopters?" He stamped his foot, and his staff momentarily paused. "Then how the hell else are we supposed to evacuate?!... 'You're working on it.' Well, that changes everything, you sh- Yes, Mister President. I'm sorry for my tone. Please, we want assurances that... WHAT?!" He swayed motionless at the phone for a few seconds, then hung up, followed the cord to the outlet, and unplugged the cable. "He's on the phone with Japan." Perhaps his rashness had doomed them all.

Manila, Philippines
Naval Station Jose Andrada
Admiralty

Adrián Abasolo leaned back in his chair, staring at the television screen. His capabilities from Manila were exhausted to their fullest extent; he could only sit back and watch the chaos unfold. He heard the high energy newscasters drone on with meaningless updates. "In a surprise upset," the black box stated, "The UN Security Council and a majority of member states have denounced the Kingdom of Cambodia for the past hour's scandal."

His desk phone rang, and the admiral pounced on it. "Rear Admiral Adrián Abasolo."

"This is the President of the United States." It wasn't the president's voice (obviously; it was female), but upon a quick glance the country and area code checked out. Success. "You mentioned that Noble Arms Masters were nearby?"

"They're with our delegation, yes," the admiral confirmed, smiling between statements to hide his glee. "I'm certain you already have escape routes. We can help your security safely escort your delegates outside the city if you link the two parties together."

"What do you want in exchange?"

"We're allies. There's no catch."

The voice was almost too rapid for his understanding. "Understood. Our intel reports that the RCA has crossed the Norea Bridge. We're advising our own to head west into the city, where apparently we have friendly forces waiting to escort us. Follow close by; we'll inform them of your arrival and send an envoy to link up with Task Force Obsidian."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mister President," Adrián quipped. "We'll let you reach your next appointment. Stay safe." Click. "It's a good day after all, Jasmine."

Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Diamond Isle Convention Center

The Philippine diplomats had split off from the rushing river that departed the convention center. The head delegate pointed to a open window in the center. "There they are!" They'd successfully located their protection and now rushed towards it, fractured as it might have been.

They weren't the only ones. Three men jogged up, splotches of green and brown covering their uniforms and helmets. The forerunner pointed to the very same window, and one man behind him threw the grappling hook end of a rope up to the balcony. Within seconds, the men traversed the heights and now stood amidst the Noble Arms Masters. The apparent leader extended a hand for a handshake. "Major Patrick Thomas, US Air Force Special Operations Command." It was equally clear that he could scale the building effortlessly and that the speed at which he scaled it had taken a slight toll. He breathed heavily through his words. "Air Commandos," he clarified. "We're here to assist you as needed, to link up with the United States protection as we get everyone out. What's the situation?"