Intermission Four - Darkest Hour

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 12/1/2022, 5:20, UTC+8



Myron Makraig knew how to make deals with devils, or in this case, a very mysterious person whose secrecy could be mistaken for shadiness. Right now, Director Bathala of La Trinidad de Manila had taken Task Force Obsidian in after it had suffered its first and worst defeat, while Rear Admiral Adrian Absolo and NICA (National Intelligence Coordinating Agency) head Cornelio Malong had been tasked with managing the renewed Chinese offensive.

Director Bathala had been clear on one thing from the start: This was not free, and he would have his due once the team had licked its wounds enough and acquired the minimum of new members needed to be functional again. And he already suspected what the Director would require - After all, the Philippine Government of National Salvation would not exist without him.

The green lawns of Trinidad Academy were devoid of most students and faculty, leaving them deserted except for maintenance staff that picked fruit from the mango and guava trees in the gardens to feed the refugees that congregated outside the facilities. Myron had observed this because he was walking to the dormitory buildings that had been given to Task Force Obsidian with a message from the Director; he wanted to meet all of them in the Trinidad Academy Auditorium.

So Myron Makraig, the highest-ranking remaining member of Task Force Obsidian, went to the dormitory building, La Casarita, which was more lavishly furnished than most other University dorms due to its closeness to the ruins of Malcanang Palace, where the 'Assassin President' who had used a loophole in the Philippine Constitution to get himself elected Vice President in recent elections, then bumped off the President-Elect so he can become President again (this had the approval of the President-Elect's sister and mother, by the way)... Well, let's just say that the 'Assassin President' was dead and so were his accomplices, and the Philippine Government of National Salvation ran things now.

In La Casarita, the members of Task Force Obsidian had been given time, space, and psychological help, as well as the option to take regular trips to Trinidad Academy and its high-tech training facilities, which included a reinforced arena for Arms Master duels and a firing range. The Director had also kept them appraised of the ongoing Chinese offensive against the Philippines and the rest of ASEAN; long story short, it was not going well for either side.

In the Philippines, a Chinese Spy who had infiltrated the islands acquired citizenship through fraudulent means, and even become the Mayor of the town of Bamban, Tarlac Province, had mustered a militia in support of China. This 'Chinese Spy Mayor' had to be attacked by Philippine Special Forces at great cost, even as the 'Assassin President's' daughter in Davao City in Mindanao was throwing dozens of local hired thugs against PGNS machine guns in hopes the survivors would trigger a Noble Arm. Not just that, but in Manila itself, a plan had been discovered to murder the Mayor of Manila to destabilize the defenses of the city with her death.

But all that paled before what Myron believed Director Bathaha was about to reveal, because he knocked on the doors of each dormitory room, telling each member of Task Force Obsidian that they should go to the Trinidad Academy Auditorium with him immediately.

Because he knew that the Director was a sapient Noble Arm, one who got his sapience by having eaten several other Noble Arms before his Master died - And this man was the only one who could provide them an edge against the Big Three and Alan Turing himself...

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@4wheathRmany@Danyel@Sanity43217@DammitVictor@ctrlsaltdel@Archazen

WO "Mikey" Rangel

---

Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland, USA - 2022-11-19, 13:31, UTC-5

Mikey stood staring at the closed office door. She had already been standing there for a good ten seconds too long, and she was still working up the nerve to knock. It wasn't that she was afraid--at least, not exactly. She was, however, both wary and weary. When she had first been press-ganged into the Army, she had known that it would be unpleasant at first, but she had thought--hoped, really--that she would get used to it quickly. With the current administration's foreign policy, there was little chance of her getting sent out to actually fight somewhere, so it was really just a question of the indignities of military life.

What Mikey had found out over the last two years, of course, was that the indignities could be pretty damn undignified, and getting summoned to the CO's office was never a good thing. Even when they pulled you in to tell you something they thought you should be excited about, the main thing that came with it was higher expectations for a job she had never wanted.

Still, there was no point delaying the inevitable any longer. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but before she could, a voice called out from the other side.

"Ms. Rangel. Come in."

Aw, crap. Mikey briefly considered what it would take for an Arms Master to get busted down to Private; she'd miss the extra money, but at least people would stop calling her Miss. Then she opened the door, stepped through, and saluted, eyes straight ahead and over the head of the man behind the desk.

"Warrant Officer Rangel, reporting as ordered."

"At ease. Take a seat." Mikey stepped forward, planting herself in the uncomfortable chair with her hands in her lap. Her face was a mask; outwardly, she remained silent, even as she internally wondered what new training they had cooked up for her to run through.

"First things first. I want to say that you've..." The square man behind the desk looked her up and down, and from Mikey's perspective, he didn't seem to like what he found. "Well, you've definitely improved as a soldier since you were assigned here."

Alarm bells started going off in her head. That was probably the nicest thing a CO had said about her since she had enlisted. Were they prepping her for some new assignment? She had actually managed to make some friends here; were they going to ship her off across the country again?

The man behind the desk slid a manila folder over from a stack on one side. It was heavy with documents, and bore a red stamp across the front reading [TOP SECRET]. One paper stuck out the top of it, and Mikey could just barely make out the heading: Task Force Obsidian.

"Ms. Rangel, what do you know about the Philippines?"

---

La Casarita - Present day, present time

Mikey blinked blearily at Myron. What was the military's obsession with getting out of bed before the sun was up? It didn't help that, despite having been in-country for almost a week, she still felt like crap. Jet-lag and allergies--inevitable coming from Maryland's cold autumn to the warmth and humidity of the Philippines--had been kicking her ass, and were only beginning to let up.

Still, an order was an order. Mikey threw on her ACU trousers and t-shirt. The jacket stayed behind--even at this early hour it was warm and humid enough to make it uncomfortable, and her read on the other members of her new unit was that they wouldn't be terribly concerned with the state of her uniform--but she pulled the hat on to cover her bedhead. So dressed, she left her room at a jog, quickly catching up with Myron and the other members of the task force he was gathering.

"So, uh..." Mikey hadn't known any of the members of the task force for very long, and to tell the truth she found most of them a bit unsettling. Not only were they trained and--unlike her--practiced killers, but many of them were even younger than she was. Their acting CO, at least, was a couple of years older, but he was also the least approachable. So, when she spoke, her question was addressed to the group at large, rather than Myron specifically. "Anyone know what this is about?"

---

For any other normal, non-military, family, receiving a knock on the door at this time in the morning would almost be unheard of but not for the Griffins. Stood at the door was by all regular standards, a military recruiter. His Father was beaming with joy when Archer walked into the room, completely unaware of the implications of happenstance.

"Archer, I knew you'd come around eventually," his father said, clapping him on the back with a broad smile. "This is a proud moment for our family. I’ll leave you to it. Got to head to the base myself."

Archer watched as his father grabbed his coat and left the house, still basking in the moment he believed to be a turning point in his son's life. The door clicked shut, leaving Archer alone with the recruiter, Langley.

Langley stepped forward, his demeanor professional yet approachable. "Good morning, Archer. My name is Langley, and I represent a special task force. I'm here to discuss a unique opportunity, one that requires someone with your specific background and capabilities."

Archer's curiosity was piqued. "A special task force? What's this all about?"

Langley opened his briefcase and pulled out a dossier. "Your academic achievements, physical training, and the legacy of your parents make you an ideal candidate for Task Force Obsidian. But more importantly, your recent emergence of a Noble Arm has caught our attention."

Archer's eyes widened. "My Noble Arm? I didn't think anyone outside my family knew about that. Honestly, I don't even think it's anything special."

Langley raised an eyebrow. "Your Noble Arm has great potential, even if you don't see it yet. Task Force Obsidian has suffered significant losses and is in desperate need of new talent to rebuild and face the challenges ahead. We believe your Noble Arm could be a crucial asset in our operations. This isn't a typical recruitment. You'll be part of an elite team, working on critical missions that have far-reaching implications. It's a chance to contribute to something greater, to be a part of history."

Langley handed Archer a manila folder marked with a red [TOP SECRET] stamp. "Take this folder and discuss it with your parents. I know this is a big decision, and it's important that you have their support and understand the gravity of what we're asking."

Archer stared out of the airplane window, watching the clouds drift by. The decision hadn't been easy, and even now, he was filled with uncertainty. His parents had talked him into considering this, their happiness and pride palpable as they encouraged him. They believed it was a great opportunity, and seeing how proud they were had ultimately swayed him. He still had doubts, unsure of how useful he could really be, but the thought of making a difference and stepping out of his comfort zone had convinced him to take the leap. He was on his way to the Philippines, ready to join Task Force Obsidian and face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Griffin was wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his dormitory room. The soft hum of the air conditioning unit and the faint glow of dawn seeping through the curtains were his only companions. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand – it was just past 5 AM, but his internal clock was still on London time, making it feel like 9 PM.

He hadn't been able to sleep all night, his mind racing with thoughts of the unknown. He slipped into his ACU trousers and a t-shirt, then reluctantly put on his jacket despite the humidity. He hated having his bracers on display and felt almost embarrassed by them. The jacket provided a sense of concealment, even if it made him uncomfortable in the heat.

Griffin quickly splashed some water on his face, hoping to shake off the last remnants of fatigue, and donned his hat to cover his messy hair. A knock echoed through the hallway, pulling Griffin from his thoughts. He opened the door to find Myron, their acting CO, standing there with his usual stern expression.

Griffin nodded and fell in line with the others. They moved through the quiet corridors of Trinidad Academy, the early morning light casting long shadows on the walls. As they neared the auditorium, he spotted Mikey jogging to catch up with the group.

Griffin glanced at her, his own uncertainty reflected in his eyes. "I have no idea," he admitted. "I just got here a few days ago. I guess we'll find out soon enough." He shared a brief, understanding look before continuing on their way.

An early morning workout kept Charles in shape. Up at 4am for a jog around the campus before it got too busy. The jog wasn’t meant to be his full workout but rather a warm up. Something to get him limbered up and heart rate up for the day. So after a quick 20 minute jog, he went to the gym on base. He then spent the next 40 minutes working out. Mainly body weight exercises like push ups, sit ups, pull ups and squats. He preferred to train for sheer volume early in the morning as opposed to lifting heavy weights. That’s not to say he doesn’t train with weights, but normally does it three times a week in the afternoon in addition to the morning training.
All in all, Charles Mallette was showered and back in his room by 5:10am. So he was dressed and ready to go at 5:20 when Myron Makraig knocked on his door to gather the members of Task Force Obsidian.

Charles was out the door in trousers and a button down. As a private contractor he didn’t do uniforms anymore.
Listening to a couple of the others chat while they walked. An American and an Englishman by the accents. He sifted through his mind of the personnel files of the other members. He made it a habit to remain up to date on information. So after a bit of research when they arrived he at least knew names and organisations of the other members. So American and Englishman were Griffin and Rangel. “We are at war. I assume we are getting a new mission.”

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 11/12/2022, UTC+8

After the day had been won Nil did her best to try and remember the events, after all they liberated a whole city, or conquered or whatever term was correct.

They the diplomats did some great talking about things, and then they did some shooting and Nil was the target then… uhh, Zap?
And finally they stormed the enemy Headquarters, lots of smoke and loud bangs, it wasn’t the best part, plus Myron yanked away some paper from her hands, as if she was going to eat them! Well she did get the idea after the fact but still… she wasn’t eating them yet!

Admittedly, Nil didn’t remember much of that day, a white coat said it could have been the side effects from LoSS oF COnsciOUsNesS and eLectrOConvULsivE tHeraPy without ANestHeSIa, whatever that means.

But it didn’t really matter because Callie was back! Even if Noel and Qingshe were now gone… Still, already the day after the mission she was feeling sorta festive, truly Nil never grieved for long, although it’s hard to say if it’s because of a lack of memory, maladaptive behaviour or just another of her quirks.

---

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 12/1/2022, 5:20, UTC+8

It was another amazing night for Nil, the Academy was beautiful and quiet in the dark, the soft whooshing of the wind ever reminding of the well-maintained green park, a luxury many places don’t have. Then there’s the others sleeping, oh and there are new faces as well, safe to say they wouldn’t spend a night without the white haired oddity stalking by when they should be sleeping.

But alas, everything has to end, twilight slowly illuminated the outside and soon the giant sky lightbulb would rise from the city… or maybe it was more of a torch, it only illuminated half of the planet so it got to be directed like a torch?

At the end of her musing, Nil saw Myron walking around the dormitory corridors, the man did usually wake up early but this early, and he’s knocking on every room? Even Nil could tell something was up.

When the time came for Myron to knock on Nil’s room he didn’t hear anybody answer, Nil simply slid behind him without saying a word, then following him the moment Myron realised she was here, _{probably thanks to someone he had already got awake.}

---

Cristina's recovery while fast is not instantaneous, while she received the possible medical attention that she could get she simply sustained too many injuries, took too many bullets despite her best efforts and her legs nearly shattered.

Seriously, how did a literal ship became a Noble Arm?

At least she's still alive and free, she wasn't sure how she managed to evade capture but Qingshe and Noel's fates still haunt her mind to this day.

Perhaps that is the reason why, she still haven't thrown the phone away.

---

Cristina made her way to the auditorium taking her time walking around the place, enjoying the peace while it lasted. Who knows when she will get an opportunity to do this once more?

Entering the auditorium she saw a bunch of new faces, 'reinforcements' her mind whispers as reminded herself of how much the peace deal took from the Obsidian.

Whatever it is, she wants it to be over with?

Caroline Lidmann did not fidget. Fidgeting was something of her younger days – too scattered and dulled to have direction. For her contemporary self, her duty, her utility, was too great for wasted focus or energy.

Even as she sat and waited, leant forward on the back of the chair ahead of her for Myron to arrive, her mind was at work. Until now, she, Nil, Henri… They had been, to a certain extent, exceptions and caveats. NATO could not afford – so the thinking must have gone – to show its hand to its fullest, to risk turning a ‘regional’ conflict into a full-blown global war between massive and interlinked economies with the full might of their military-industrial complexes and Arms Masters unleashed. Thus: herself, supposedly an unaffiliated foreign volunteer who just happened to be from the US, told to keep her powers in check for now. Thus: Henri, officially present not as military aid but in an anti-AM peacekeeping role. Thus… Nil. Nobody still quite knew where or what she’d come from.

(Callie made particular note of that thought. She hadn’t done as good a job at checking on the poor girl as she might have wanted, even if… If there were good excuses for that, on her end.)

But now? Across the room from her, just entering through the door: a US soldier, transferred to Task Force Obsidian. She’d been given Spindle’s mental brief on Warrant Officer Rangel, of course, in her hours of lucidity as she recovered from burning quite so much energy portalling across Phnom Pneh. Her being sent halfway across the world wasn’t a sign of commitment, not truly – given her disposition, it might even be the opposite – but in light of the statements of the newly emboldened President it was certainly climbing to the next rung on the ladder of escalation.

Callie fixed a smile on her face, offered a friendly wave. It would be good, Myron had told her when he’d found her drinking in the peace of the grounds in the early hours of the morning, for her to be visible and present early. She was, unambiguously, one of the most veteran of the Task Force now and, regardless of the circumstances in which it had begun, had survived against the odds and even played a major role in turning what might have been a disaster in the Cambodian capital into at least a strictly tactical non-defeat. Seeing her there, eager, unbowed, would be a boon for morale.

After all, others were not – so roiled the thoughts, forcibly held at arm’s length in the recesses of her mind.

Noel. A young man finding his feet. Thrust into responsibility with little warning by circumstances beyond his control, yet far surer of himself now than he had been even a few months ago. Captured. Callie recalled his spark, his confidence, and the growth it had seen. He could be something special… Would he be, now?

And… Qingshe. Lei Qingshe. Callie remembered her all too well – the fire opal eyes, the hair of spun jade… She had seemed undeniable, one who had carved herself from stone that she might hold back the onrushing tide of the world. And now…

No. She’s not. The part of her mind forming her crush – and oh, how easy it was to admit to herself now, in hindsight – was insistent. Not just because of bias, as a brief internal examination clarified – because that seeming wasn’t wrong. Everything she had been told, had seen, had heard about the woman called Lei Qingshe said that she shouldn’t just die like that.

Nonetheless… Gone.

How easy would it be for similar fates to befall those now taking their seats in the auditorium?

Too easy.

Can’t let it. Must protect them.

Could she?

Arrowheads falling from a palm. A lazy grin. Her rifle’s crack.

She clutched the back of the seat. Caroline Lidmann did not fidget.

Intermission Four - Darkest Hour

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 12/1/2022, 5:20, UTC+8



Upon approaching The Director in the Trinidad Academy Administration Office, every Arms Master would feel a sense of primal terror, and those who had their Noble Arm drawn/manifested would see that weapon shake, as though it was afraid. As though it was capable of feeling fear. Myron led them to the office anyway, where a brown-skinned man of medium height, slightly wrinkled due to middle age, wearing thick glasses rimmed with artificial tortoiseshell, and wearing a formal business suit that would have made any other person unassumingly professional, waited for them as he sat on a revolving business chair with armrests that emphasized the biting coldness, in the office, that was more than just the electric fans and the early use of air conditioning.

This was Director Bathala of Trinidad Academy, the man who had taken them all in... And was now revealing his price.

"Greetings, Task Force Obdisian," the Director said bitterly. "I am Director Bathala of La Trinidad de Manila, or at least, that's what people know me as."

He then continued to address everyone, "Many of you who should be here are not, thus forcing new blood, new blood not acquainted with the secrets you have touched, to come here. Your leader, the one who despite his flaws, has led you to four successes, one won from the jaws of defeat, has become a captive; the Downward Descent has taken him for their sadistic whims and desires. As for Qingshe, the strongest among you... Her survival is ambiguous; there is every chance she may not be dead and every chance that she is - Limbo is what her situation can be called."

His eyes glinted as he continued, "I was going to give these revelations to four people - Noel, Qingshe, Nico Makri, and Callie Lindemann. But only Callie is here, as well as Qinghse's pupil, Cristina. But beggars cannot be choosers - Not even me."

The Director leaned in close, as an aura of power and a feeling of pressure accompanied the unnatural fear every Arms Master here felt. Then he said, "Let's get the first revelation out of the way - I am not the real Director Bathala, I am his Noble Arm."

Archer's Bracers shook as though to confirm his words, even though they were not sapient, as far as anyone knew.

"Noble Arms can achieve sapience through natural development or by having the right power; I am the latter - I gained sapience by eating other Noble Arms before my Master died. I have their powers as well, and as a sapient being, I can grow my own Noble Arm, although thanks to an Occult Programming Language superscript, that Noble Arm finds it more difficult to gain sapience," Director Bathala then looked at Cristina, knowing full well Qingshe taught her about the existence of OPL, before continuing once more.

"Now, for the final revelation I have to give all of you; China, Russia, Iran and North Korea, as well as the Downward Descent... they may be the enemy right now, but there is another one trying to take their place - False Turing, aka Alan Turing's Noble Arm, who is trying to avenge his dead Master by posing as the real Turing, who has allegedly survived his death, and trying to destroy all Noble Arms by either: Deleting this timeline, which he can only do by finding a workaround through Occult Programming Language's inability to destroy any item or concept, just alter existing ones and create new ones... Or overwrite this timeline with data from the One True Timeline - An Earth without Noble Arms - to erase all Noble Arms without killing those who were born because of the timeline divergence."

Director Bathala's eyes glinted as he spoke, "False Turing tried to recruit me, but he tried to hide the fact that all Noble Arms includes him and me. So you guys will need to get stronger to stop him."

Turning to Cristina, he then said, "Agree to this and I will give you the power needed to fix your sister, not in a week, not in a month, but right now."

@Gerlando@Nimbus@QJT@Amidatelion@Digmata@Chiro@Creative Chaos@4wheathRmany@Danyel@Sanity43217@DammitVictor@ctrlsaltdel@Archazen

WO "Mikey" Rangel

---

“We are at war. I assume we are getting a new mission.”

Mikey rolled her eyes at the Frenchman's back--Charlie? no, Charles--but stayed silent. Half of her knew that already. They wouldn't have woken the whole unit up for anything less important. What she wanted was details. The other half of her... wasn't necessarily convinced that was the wrong conclusion, but it emphatically did not want to know. An actual mission? Where people were going to shoot at her? And she was going to have to shoot them?

Suffice it to say her blood was already running cold by the time their group walked down the corridor to Director Bathala's office; even so, she was not oblivious to the feeling of dread that grew stronger the closer they got.

(Before manifesting her Noble Arm, Mikey would never have described herself as the kind of person who reached for a weapon when she felt afraid. Now, as she entered the office, she had to make a noticeable mental effort not to arm herself. The realization was not a welcome one.)

Mikey wasn't sure whether the school's director was military or civilian, and after the last two and a half years of military discipline that left her a little uneasy, but she decided she could probably get away with just loitering in the background. Even having been in-country for less than a week, she was already getting the impression that Task Force Obsidian didn't exactly stand on military formality. She was still getting to know everyone, but by her count, somewhere between a quarter and a third of their Arms Masters were mercenaries, or at least here in a volunteer capacity, and half of the "regulars" were drawn piecemeal from foreign units. That sort of mix apparently didn't lend itself to strict discipline.

One of their number was already waiting--one of the volunteers, if she remembered right. From the U.S., even, though Mikey would be damned if she had caught which branch. And she was... waving at Mikey? Oh man, what was her name? Carol? No, Caroline, I think... Mikey started to say something to her, glanced back at the group filing into the office, decided against it. Instead she returned the smile and gave Caroline a thumbs-up that even she had to admit looked awkward. Smooth.

She took a spot standing next to the wall as the group gathered, resisting the urge to fidget and squirm despite the nervous energy working its way through her veins and the tingle of fear at the base of her brainstem. She could at least try to look like a proper soldier, as much as she disliked the idea.

A few minutes later, her "proper soldier" pose was being hindered by her slack jaw. Was she cleared to know any of this? Did her superiors even know this? What the hell even was Occult Programming Language? Whatever it was, it was apparently able to erase the world she knew and replace it with... no, she couldn't. She wouldn't. If she tried to wrap her brain around the whole thing she thought she would vomit and pass out, and not necessarily in that order.

Her eyes wide, she looked around the room, taking in everyone else's reactions.

---

'A sentient Noble Arm? Considering how the OPL works, it makes sense.' Cristina thought as she listened to the conversation, gritting her teeth as she heard Qingshe's fate. She was looking forward at learning more about OPL with her but now it appears that she would now work on her own, she still has the book given to her by Qingshe.

She hopes that it will be enough.

Especially now that it looked like there will be a new enemy on the horizon, the one that gave her an offer to join them.

'A world without Noble Arms' she toyed with the concept a lot of times while recovering. 'If that world exist, her sister would be safe even though they will never meet.'

It wasn't a bad idea to be honest.

She stared at the Director offering her as well to join his side as well, one that she will admit to be the better choice.

"How do you plan to do that?" she asked to the Director, feeling the same chill when she first became Qingshe's student. We;;, it doesn't matter how many devils will claim her soul afterwards as long she get what she wants.