Kaithe Dame
Nani
rush99999
meri
ChronicleMan
The Savant
PrinceAlexus
Guardian Angel Haruki
SmileyForTheCam
BaconW.O. "Mikey" Rangel
"Mr. Griffin, Ms. Rangel, can you two mind the soup kitchen and watch out for trouble while I go? I have a bad feeling about what's coming..."
When Mikey thought about the whole thing later, that last line from the prince stood out with perfect clarity. It was an interaction right out a fantasy novel, and in other circumstances she would have struggled to take him seriously. Right now, though... maybe it was the MP's suspicion of sabotage, or the memory of how close the crowd had been to violence mere minutes before, but her face went serious; she even gave Shinyahito a respectable-for-her salute in response.
And the worst part was, that cryptic prediction from a literal prince probably saved her life. Alert as she was, Mikey spotted one of the approaching attackers drawing his weapon from a deep pocket in enough time to react. She didn't immediately recognize the object for what it was, but something in her brain said "weapon". "Stop!" She held her left hand out facing the approaching man; Angel Duster shimmered into existence in her right hand, its muzzle pointed at the ground.
The sound of the shot was almost simultaneous with her shout. The bullet went wide--pipe guns were inaccurate under the best conditions, and she had startled one of the other would-be assassins into firing before he could draw a bead--but it still felt like all the blood had drained from her body. Oh god, it's happening. Some part of her--even as she had listened to the Director's briefings, cleaned and calibrated her weapons, gone over the naval safety packet for god's sake--really hadn't believed it would happen. Even now, a small voice was trying to deny it--It wasn't supposed to be today! The mission wasn't for another four days!
Even as that part of her mind quailed, her body swung her Noble Arm up to a two-handed grip. The man Mikey had spotted was raising his weapon as well, and another line of thought, far from the action, connected the gunshot to the device in his hands.
They drew on each other. If they had been using identical weapons, Mikey probably would have beaten him anyway; she really was very good, for her age and level of experience. In reality, his weapon was a clumsy, improvised thing; hers, for all that it lacked the power of a modern military rifle, might as well have been an extension of her arm.
Mikey shot him down before the iron sights even made it to her eye. One, two. The first took him just below the sternum, the second just above that and to her right as the recoil forced the barrel to track upwards. She didn't stop to look at her handiwork; her drills back at the Proving Grounds had taught her to take only the time she needed to see her target go down before moving on to the next--a woman holding a large knife out ahead of her, charging. Bang, bang, down. A third--bang, bang, down.
But they were still coming, just about within the range where their makeshift pistols and knives would be most effective and her own weapon would be effectively useless. She swung the barrel just to the side and fired again, and this time as the crack of the shot rang out, Mikey vanished...
...only to reappear behind the attackers, half-falling against one of the refugees. She grabbed his shirt for balance, and he was too scared--by the sudden onslaught, by the American who had suddenly appeared next to him, or by his general situation--to object. Mikey quickly regained her balance, shouting back over at the tent. "Griff, watch out!" Probably unnecessary--if the gunshots hadn't alerted him, the shouting had, but she wasn't a model of clear thought at the moment. Could Griff even handle himself? She hadn't ever found out what his Noble Arm could do. Her little firing range demonstration had just accounted for half of their attackers, but that might be three too many for him...
That thought was cut short as Mikey's attention was quickly drawn by the portal, and then by the silver-haired woman who emerged from it.
She's an Arms Master. The realization was as immediate as it was terrifying. Mikey knew that, as far as powers went, hers was both nowhere near the scariest, and what strengths she did have weren't suited for anti-NA combat. And yet the common wisdom was that, on the battlefield, the best counter to an Arms Master was another Arms Master. Unless the prince and Cristina returned, and soon, this was on her and Griff.
She wanted to throw up. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She wanted to scream and throw Angel Duster as far as it would go.
Instead of doing any of those things, she shouted at Archer again. "Finding a vantage point!" She didn't wait to see if he heard her before she swung her rifle up and fired at a piece of scrap sitting atop a nearby building. Again she vanished, reappearing on the roof and slumping down, both to get out of the line of sight and from sheer nerves. She really wanted to keep going and just lay down, but she took herself by the metaphorical shoulders and gave herself a mental shake. Running away was not an option. That being the case, she had to deal with the situation. And as much as she was not the person for this job, it was not an situation her training had overlooked.
Mikey fumbled with Angel Duster and ejected a bullet from its magazine, just as she had done in the gym with the sodas. What appeared instead of cola was one of the gun cases she had been toting. She unclipped it (with fingers she was genuinely surprised weren't shaking) revealing a Benelli M4 shotgun. Its barrel was shorter than standard, and it sported a pistol grip. Angel Duster vanished as she dropped it, and she began hurriedly donning both the weapon's sling and the bandoleer of shells stored in the case.
Her hands had already learned how to do this in training, so her mind was free to spend that time wondering if today was not just the first time she killed someone, but also her first time she leaving a friend to die.