"You used to mistrust Arms Masters too, but chose to become one as a sacrifice for your country. As for myself, I gained my own Noble Arm after realizing that my previous side - The Disablers - and the Hammer of Masters were merely two ends of a cycle of revenge. I admire your willingness to put the good of others above one's personal... stances; thank you for coming to our aid."

The Liberator gave Myron a subtle, but piercing side-eye as the thanks, which came across as quite backhanded, left Myron's lips. "Mister Makaraig, with all due respect, please don't equate our service histories. I'm going to have to side with Baalphegor here- it seems like supremely bad praxis to talk about this sort of thing out in the open, especially knowing what enemy Arms Masters are capable of when they have you their sights. I'm very, very open to a mixer and getting to know everyone here, because you all seem like reasonably pleasant people, but our individual backgrounds should stay as things to be discussed in private."

As for whatever was going on with Kaitlyn, The Liberator gleaned enough from her vitals to know that she wasn't in any danger of injury or death, and once she popped her medication, he was fully dissuaded from intervening altogether- nevermind the fact that her heart was thumping like a fucking jackrabbit's every time she looked his way. He could literally smell the cortisol coming off of her like petrichor after a harsh bout of rain; she was terrified of him. If this wasn't the default emotion most of his handlers displayed in front of him, he'd be pushed to feel a little worse, but part of being the best gun around was learning to be perceived as one.

She glanced at Everett Gilman, the (in)famous Liberator, darling miracle child of America's fumblings with Occult Programming Language, and wordlessly inclined her chin. One could perhaps call her interjection a kind of olive branch to the walking advertisement for patriotic American Superiority, despite that in nearly any other setting, she might as well have been the Lex Luthor to his Superman. For now, however, they were nominal allies, and she intended to convey as much.

Everett smiled warmly at Baalphegor- his icy blue eyes softening enough to show that he did sincerely appreciate their allyship with one another. Part of him hoped he could be friends with most of this Task Force; he'd long had his fill of overly-formal lieutenants and generals tripping over eggshells because they were afraid he'd laser them even though hadn't for a second shown that it was a reasonable thing to fear.

More importantly, one of Myron’s statements stood out to her. She leaned slightly towards The Liberator. “You used to dislike Arms Wielders?” She asked, curious rather than judgmental. “What changed?”

Turning away from the group slightly and shifting his body towards her, The Liberator gave Peony most of his attention when he heard her pipe up. "My responsibilities. Becoming what I used to fear forced me to look into that world- y'know, the world of Arms Masters, and it turned out that most of 'em weren't psychopaths with nukes, so to speak. They're people with a lot of hard power tied to them, but still just people in the end. There's good, there's bad, and there's gray, just like there is with those that don't have NAs." He then looked back at the group, and exerted his x-ray vision and super senses at a small scale, just to gauge how everyone here was feeling about each other and also in case they'd invited unwanted attention. "What's with the guys up on the buildings? They with us?", he asked, voice casual but stern as he scanned the horizon and saw Baalphegor's security through the walls of their respective hiding spots.

Her eyes sweep the room, catching the eyes of everybody she could muster up the courage to meet. Regrettably, that included the devil, but she managed to avoid Myron and the Liberator. They settle, finally, on the blue-haired girl, and she offers a chocolate directly.

Please like chocolate. Every girl like chocolate! It's science.

"Princess? Um, do princesses eat-" Before she can finish what she was saying, her eyes widen, and she gasps.

Meds

Meds!

MEDS!

Kaitlyn collapses forward against the table, frantically sifting through the satchels on her belt until she flips open the correct one and withdraws a non-descript orange bottle. Her hands are shaking as she tries, fails, and tries again to open the lid, ultimately managing to fumble her way into a handful of small white pills. Grimacing, she throws one into her mouth and follows up with a swip from the canteen clipped to her belt. Her eyes pinch closed, and for several long seconds, she remains perfectly still. Then, breathing slowly, she eases herself back into her seat.

Her eyes are distant, and pained, as she gestures towards the chocolates scattered across the tabletop.

"C-condition..." She whispers.

Before she knew it, the third newcomer, Kaitlyn, was offering her chocolate after a rapid fire series of questions. “Thank you.” She said, accepting the treat. The girl was perhaps overly excitable but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She had the right idea of things at least. They should do their best to get along… even if they had reservations. The swordswoman’s eyes flickered to the devil lady briefly at the thought.

“I think pop’s fine-” Was as far as she got before the brown haired girl lurched forwards. Peony froze. Instinct told her to act but this wasn’t enemy action (as far as she could tell) nor was there any immediate cause to the spasm. It was fortunate then that Kaitlyn swallowed a small pill and stabilized a second later.

The blue haired woman let out a breath she didn’t remember holding though she still felt disoriented at the sudden ordeal. She was grateful that Cristina took charge of the situation, she wasn’t in the headspace to offer support of her own though that left her feeling slightly guilty.

Turning away from the group slightly and shifting his body towards her, The Liberator gave Peony most of his attention when he heard her pipe up. "My responsibilities. Becoming what I used to fear forced me to look into that world- y'know, the world of Arms Masters, and it turned out that most of 'em weren't psychopaths with nukes, so to speak. They're people with a lot of hard power tied to them, but still just people in the end. There's good, there's bad, and there's gray, just like there is with those that don't have NAs." He then looked back at the group, and exerted his x-ray vision and super senses at a small scale, just to gauge how everyone here was feeling about each other and also in case they'd invited unwanted attention. "What's with the guys up on the buildings? They with us?", he asked, voice casual but stern as he scanned the horizon and saw Baalphegor's security through the walls of their respective hiding spots.

The Liberator’s response was a welcome distraction. Surprisingly, she resonated with the patriotic Arms Master’s outlook. “Our Arms are an extension of ourselves. They make us more but not better, not even that different.” At least, she wanted to believe that last point. Her smile dimmed. “I mean, my Arm forced me to ‘look out’ too. It was a lot easier to ignore the world before I got it.” She picked up the inert hilt of her Arm and observed how it distorted light and how her arm took on a metallic sheen. “Yet even with all its baggage, I can’t really say I regret manifesting one.” It felt like something was waiting to reveal itself all her life had finally been brought to the light even if only in retrospect.

Peony didn’t say that last part out loud, she was already getting a bit too sentimental for the mood.

The Liberator’s tentative warning had her grip Liminal Tesseract firmly though she refrained from going as far as to activate it. While there were perfectly logical reasons why armed soldiers would watch them even if a paranoid part of her kindled the lingering stress from the battle.

No sooner had Callie shuffled over towards Nil, dessert menu in hand, to point towards the buñuelos (with optional chocolate sauce) than a small part of hell broke loose. Fortunately, ‘hell’ wasn’t quite as bad as a member of the Zodiac but the devil-woman was still more than a little off-putting. Okay, Spindle, she thought, hauling on the thread in her mind to practically drag her handler back through the door, that’s the Liberator, sure, makes sense, but what on earth is she doing here and why didn’t you tell me?

Very goo– oh, damn it all, she was meant to be arriving in-theatre tomorrow, not today. You remember your preliminary briefing?

I’ll need more than that, she’s right there. Callie glanced up towards Myron, who had seemingly taken point in answering her. That bought them a few seconds, at least.

More than enough when delivered at their speeds. A prominent investor, CEO and public figure back at home who played the philanthropist (while cultivating an image seemingly designed in gleeful challenge to anyone who might dare try to pull back the curtain), Baalphegor (certainly not her birth name) had provided funding and resources for TFO from the beginning, likely in part to protect her financial interests in the region. The other part was covered by her Noble Arm; information barring what had been shown off in public was limited, given a reportedly frustrating resistance to intelligence gathering efforts (plus the usual irritants when dealing with the sister service), but its enhancement abilities were clear enough. That implied a strong potential motive of scouting for interesting and powerful individuals who could be used alongside said enhancement under her employment. As for why she would need them… Well, her grudges weren’t exactly confidential.

Judging by her expression, Myron’s decision to throw caution to the wind and attempt to rapidly build empathy with their paymaster through shared suffering seemed only to be risking adding to the list.

Making a note of it, and of the frankly terrifying reach of the power that Prince Shinyahito had just admitted to that she didn’t have time to deal with right now (but would certainly confront him over later), she made to stand – only for their third arrival to fall into what seemed to be a panic attack. Callie knew Kaitlyn Price only from her dossier, briefings and momentary greetings while on base but she remained a comrade-in-arms, and so her instinct flared… Yet Charter hadn’t reacted to her – it seemed there was no danger here – and, indeed, there was Cristina, moving quickly and quietly to assist. A brief, gentle smile rushed across Callie’s face, tinged with a touch of self-mockery, before she settled herself and rose.

“Acting Lieutenant Lidmann,” she said, with a brief nod towards the two newcomers before she turned her head towards Baalphegor. “It’s a pleasure. Apologies for the lapse in opsec – we just got finished neutralising a sudden threat to the city as a whole and calling off what we thought was going to be a major evacuation effort, so we’re taking a moment. Once we’re back and properly situated in a secure location, and when it’s cleared with command, I’ll be happy to go into greater detail with you.” Might annoy her… Get the feeling that she’ll respect the professionalism, though.

As for the other... Callie turned her eyes on an icon – and grinned. “Normally I’d recommend some arroz caldo – just the best comfort food, definitely need to find myself a recipe at some point – but this is a Mexican, so take your pick... Welcome to the team – I’ll get you settled in properly later. We can go over your role in the task force then; for now, I’m glad to have someone of your stature on board,” she joked, looking him up and down – and taking the opportunity to briefly summon a portal over one of her pupils, offering her a view from the sky. Yep, that’s them… Well-positioned for multiple sight-lines and covering fire, clearly professional – and those badges look familiar. “Sharp eyes, too, but we don’t need to worry,” she added, directing a fractionally raised eyebrow Baalphegor’s way.

Mexican Restaurant, Municipality of Lubao, Pampanga Province, Philippines - 1/1/2023, 10:20 AM, UTC+8

---

If she didn't know better, Baalphegor might have called the stiff acquiescence that followed her reaming "blessed". Though, of course, she quite appreciated the irony of that turn of phrase coming from her. Lieutenant Callie Lidmann's introduction and explanation confirmed a bit more explicitly what Baalphegor had managed to gather from sifting through local media and trying to sort the real information from the sensationalism.

"An explanation is not an excuse, Miss Lidmann," Baalphegor responded simply. Her tone wasn't harsh, but it was unwavering. She could have offered some platitude about "irrational circumstances making for irrational responses", but that was an unacceptable precedent to set for people explicitly expected to be better than the enemy. She'd already said her piece on the matter at length, and there was no use in brewing further unnecessary conflict internally. That hadn't been her intent to begin with, after all, but some things were best nipped in the bud firmly. "I had gathered that your team was involved in something... inconvenient again little more than an hour ago today, but of course, I appreciate your discretion is saving the details for a proper debriefing. It wouldn't do to feed the public paranoia mill before a proper official statement can be developed."

The blonde keeper of the Noble Arm named [Charter] was a frank breath of fresh air with her professionalism, and Baalphegor was more than happy to reply in kind. Now this was the sort of ally she'd hoped to be fortunate enough to find amidst this gaggle of powerful personalities.

Thankfully, on The Liberator front, it seemed her swiftness of intervention had averted total disaster. Judging by the sharp side-eye the blonde adonis sent the former terrorist, The Liberator was indeed displeased with Myron's loose lips and frankly crass equivalency between them, but with Baalphegor there to play "Bad Cop" and air the harsher lambasting herself, the man-shaped American flag was able to avoid taking the low road, maintaining his image of benevolence and personability. His easy reply to the blue-haired young woman, Peony Loris, spoke as much, as The Liberator smoothed over Myron's character assassination of him with a nice, neutral little response.

Of course, Baalphegor didn't know how true that persona might be, but for the time being, it served her interests to maintain it. Reading between the lines, the entire point of America deploying The Liberator to the ASEAN theater was to salve over the burns to their reputation they'd been taking by staying so hands-off in the war. Ultimately, it was all about reputation all the way down, and more to the point, the image of The Liberator was a carefully curated one, a series of stunning shining victories, one after another. Keeping him gleaming like gold in the noonday sun was objectively paramount to maintaining his presence, because if The Liberator managed to just be an embarrassment to the United States, they'd surely recall him.

And we can't have that, now can we...?

Baalphegor returned Everett's smile with one that was probably decidedly more sinister, but it was hard to actually help it with her biology. In the end, having the teeth of a predator made baring them an act that tended to put people on edge, so she'd come to ride a bit of a balance when she wanted to convey actual friendliness (or at least the visage of it). That had meant either decidedly close-lipped smiles or half-smiles, where she only bared a slight glimpse of her teeth, just as she was doing now at receiving confirmation from The Liberator that her quiet overture of alliance had been received and (at least tentatively) accepted.

Excellent. I'll need to make time later to discuss the particulars of such a connection, but this is a very good start to already have a handshake with the strongest Arms Master on the team.

It was a quiet balm to her as well to lessen such a potential threat to herself, because Baalphegor knew more about The Liberator than just about any other person in this room most likely. Specifically, she had studied his absurd abilities and paid attention to news surrounding the man at length, especially concerning his movements across the States. It was always best to conduct "sensitive" operations while the walking x-ray and radar setup wasn't in town. Really, the United States media had gone to such lengths to make him look impressive that she couldn't help but respect him as a threat. The Liberator was one of the rare few Arms Masters that could truly give her pause, force her to reshape entire aspects of her company's security around countering his absurd sensory suite of powers.

Ones he was demonstrating now.

The Liberator easily noticed Baalphegor's positioned mercenaries, not that she would have expected anything less from a professional of his caliber. In fact, if the man weren't taken to regularly checking his surroundings with such a potent ability, her opinion of him might have fallen significantly. It was precisely that sort of expectation that was why she respected him as an equal and a threat.

Callie maneuvering her Noble Arm to apparently shoot off a quick portal to confirm the presence of the "unknowns" drew Baalphegor's attention, but as she expected, the Lieutenant quickly caught onto the detail of the company logo for "Infernus Industries" that the devilish CEO had made sure to have her employees wear openly for this venture as a clear sign of allegiance. Having an accidental friendly fire incident would have been quite embarrassing, after all, so she had preempted the issue, especially knowing that she was entering into a situation where having her forces move entirely covertly would only make them look more suspicious to her prospective allies. In which case, refuge and audacity seemed to be the way to go... to an extent, of course.

Chuckling, Baalphegor reaching inside her suit jacket and withdrew a slim phone from the inner pocket, quickly navigating the contacts with deft swipes of her thump, before calling "Ghost" Squad's team line, a nifty little setup she'd had made for convenience. Both Callie and The Liberator would likely be able to see in their own ways how the hidden soldiers bearing Baalphegor's company logo largely responded as one to tap at earpieces with mikes, into which the one called "Pawn" spoke, his voice coming back to the audience at the table a bit muffled by the distance.

"Yeeeelo! You've reached the Ghostbusters, the premiere service for all your ghost-making needs! How can we help you!"

Baalphegor huffed a bit, quirking her lips, before saying, "A bit quieter now. I'm not sure the whole neighborhood heard you."

"You little rat, your ass is mine when we get back to base!" growled out a different voice much quieter.

"Sorry!" Pawn cried back, still just as loud.

"Eyes up front, boys," Baalphegor interrupted a touch more firmly, grinning a bit. "Our new allies have you on magical camera, so to speak. It would be rude not to greet them back, right?"

"Ma'am!" came the group response, followed by Callie and The Liberator being in a position to see those apparent employees of Baalphegor each sketch their own form of "greeting", from Pawn's cheerful wave, to King's sharp salute, to Rook's middle finger and Bishop's rolled eyes and half-hearted two-fingered salute.

"That'll do, men. Back to work," Baalphegor responded in closing, before ending the call. Shooting what was probably a reassuring smile across the table, Baalphegor finally said, "As at least two of you can confirm, those are employees of mine who I set up in response to the frankly appalling lack of security in the area. They won't be the only employees of mine around by far, however, so don't be too surprised if you encounter others getting the lay of the land. I've even gone to the trouble of making sure they all display allegiance openly out here to avoid any misunderstandings." She gestured to Mikasa's uniform and the velvet-red emblem stitched into the top of the white apron, just above the sternum. "So, if they are wearing my company logo openly, odds are good they are friendly... Though, of course, I welcome caution in case of infiltrators in situations where I'm not available to verify them. I promise you my employees will accommodate such sensibility, and if they don't, then they're probably not mine."

Amidst all this, it seemed that Private Price had elected to take the initiative in drawing conversation away from tenser subjects, looking like nothing so much as a walking bundle of anxiety, as the brunette asked what everyone "liked"... before resorting to greasing the wheels of socialization with the production of wrapped chocolates from a pocket.

Godiva? I have fond recollections of it, but...

Baalphegor had to keep her face carefully blank to avoid showing her distaste for the presentation and transportation of the offered candy. Surely, all that chocolate must have been a melted mess now, right? Still, it might be a bit rude to reject the offer entirely. Baalphegor glanced Mikasa in silent prompting, as the maid's lips thinned, before she stepped over to pluck a wrapped treat from the bundle Kaitlyn was holding.

Before the devil could even hold out a hand in wait, however, the maid unwrapped the treat in a deft twist of crackling plastic, popping it into her mouth and then stuffing the wrapper into the front pocket of her apron, hands folded primly in front of her waist. The whole movement was so swift and without hesitation that an average onlooker might be inclined to wonder if it had happened at all.

Baalphegor stared at Mikasa blandly, and the maid met her judgement with stone-faced stubborn silence.

"Really?"

"It could have been poisoned," Mikasa said shameless.

You paranoid little shit.

"Yes, because poison is something that actually threatens me, right?" Baalphegor drawled. It wasn't.

"It could threaten our allies. Better this humble maid tests the taste to find out."

"As if a good poison would have any kind of taste."

"It could have had a small bomb inside. You never know."

Oh, for the love of-

"Well, if you're going to worry so much over poison and culinary sabotage, then how about you go meddle with the kitchen and spread some of that concern to our new allies as well, hmmm?" Her tone was joking, but that hadn't been a request. Baalphegor wasn't going to tolerate (admittedly more useful than not) paranoia getting between her and networking at this critical juncture.

Mikasa huffed, casting a last judgmental -almost warning- sniff towards the table, before trundling off sedately towards the kitchens.

Baalphegor almost pitied them.

Almost.

Plastering a wide, close-lipped smile on to redirect from her personal maid and bodyguard doing her job with a touch too much zealotry, Baalphegor elected to actually answer Private Price's other questions. "As it happens, I was educated in playing both the piano and violin across my upbringing. Certainly not to the level of a lifetime practitioner, but I like to think my level of expertise could be called 'commercially competitive'." She chuckled quietly. "In that respect, you could say my musical tastes were naturally influenced, though as it happens, I did actually later develop a taste for pop when learning to dance."

It seemed she wasn't the only one with an appreciation for the genre. Peony was also making to respond in the affirmative, only to freeze in reaction to Private Price suddenly having a rather concerningly violent bout of sickness. Cristina Bernardino, a girl Baalphegor recognized from reports as having been at least passingly familiar with a shared associate (note to self: address that later), was speaking up in concern.

Baalphegor, however, had stiffened for an entirely different reason.

She felt something abruptly attempt to press against her spirit, to seep into her body and senses, only to be rebuffed by what she had been informed by others was a truly violent burning sensation. Harmless ultimately, of course, but quite akin to dunking your hand in acid while being burned alive. It was almost "electric", comparable to some of the worst venomous bites and stings on the planet, and it would hit the offender's entire "self" at once with unwavering full intensity for as long as they continued to offend.

Accordingly, it wasn't too surprising when that sensation eventually retreated, and Baalphegor could let her shoulders relax, slowly swiveling her head to cast a searing, slitted glare scrutinizingly around the restaurant's premises.

What the hell?

She focused on her spirit sight again, her glare intensifying, as she looked for signs of another Arms Master that might be nearby in the crowds. Yet, none presented themselves... at least not any whose Noble Arms weren't so weak they must have been civilian-class F or E-Ranks. Resisting the urge to grind her teeth in irritation, Baalphegor's gaze dragged back to the table, where Private Price was currently getting her bout of sickness under control with a white pill of whose nature she wasn't in a good position to identify.

Condition?

That was Private Price's meek explanation, but Baalphegor was moderately gob smacked. An internal attack like that in a field-certified combatant? How in the world was this woman cleared for duty if she could have fits like that in the middle of battle? Someone like that could be a deadly liability in the field, and there was surely no way she couldn't have such a thing on her medical record...

Unless...?

Baalphegor carefully smoothed her expression out, wiping away her glare and reestablishing her facade of calm, but internally, she was calculating. Her spirit sight washed over Kaitlyn again, but aside from the volatile eddies she'd expect from someone having a medical attack, the girl's spiritual energy was as robustly quiescent as before. Her reactions were not as intense as what Baalphegor would normally expect from someone punished by her soul's defense though. The kind of agony that girl would be in if she was responsible should have outright made her collapse. Immediately having the presence of mind to take a pill for the pain? Well, for one, that seemed unlikely. For another, the attack was spiritual. No amount of physical medication would lessen the agony.

With all that considered, Baalphegor felt her bout of suspicion lessen... but not entirely retreat. Someone had just tried to affect her spirit or Noble Arm somehow. That much wasn't at all in question. No, the real mystery was whether or not the "attack" had been enemy action, happenstance... or internal in origin. She'd read the dossiers of her fellow Arms Master in the TFO prior and had some basic idea of what they could do, but the only other suspects hadn't shown any kind of reaction similar to Private Price.

Could something else be going on?

She'd already noted that Private Price's spirit was rather abnormal for a regular person, so maybe she was sensitive to particular phenomenon? Maybe whatever ability had tried to target Baalphegor had also caused a violent reaction in Kaitlyn's body thanks to whatever dormant Noble Arm potential she must be harboring.

This will bear investigating... but preferably at a later time. As long as whatever that was doesn't happen again, I'll simply have to leave the matter be for now.

It helped soothe her paranoia that she'd received no reports of trouble from Ghost Squad or Mikasa yet. Not even just in a conventional sense but also in the case someone killed them by surprise. In that case, she would have immediately noticed when their souls returned to her grasp, ready to be given new bodies.

Baalphegor chose to distract herself from those troublesome thoughts by redirecting her spiritual sight back to Lieutenant Lidmann.

She hadn't noticed it on the first pass when she arrived, thanks to the distraction that had been the enormity of The Liberator and oddity of Private Price, but Callie's own spirit was rather distinctly abnormal in its own right. Oh, to be sure, it was radiating just as much power as she'd expect from the wielder of an even conditionally A-Rank Noble Arm... but the weird thing was that it seemed to be split in half?

No, that didn't seem quite right. It was almost like a spiritual hallucination, like a shadow cast against a nonexistent wall. It was like the girl was a walking peg sitting in a her-shaped spiritual hole, like she could accidentally slip back and forth between the "gap" that wasn't actually there. The "gap" was so fine that Baalphegor easily could have kept missing it if she wasn't specifically scrutinizing the blonde, but it was almost like there were two Callie's occupying the same space, one physical and the other "illusory", both just barely out of synch in their movements enough to "blur" them at the edges under inspection.

What in the Nine Hells am I looking at?

She would have bet Qingshe to have found the concept intriguing enough to salivate over, but Baalphegor was more interested in whether this was a threat or potential boon to her. Of course, she fundamentally considered the unknown to be threatening, so in that respect, she was concerned enough to feel at least a tangential urge to investigate it. On the other hand, she might just be wasting her time, and she had no immediate reason to suspect Callie of being a problem she'd have to deal with, the opposite even. Lieutenant Lidmann had so far given her an impeccable first impression that she intended to reciprocate.

Later. We'll be concerned with that later. In a far more private setting.

Outwardly, Baalphegor chose to voice her own form of social lubricant.

"Hmhmm, well, presuming Private Price isn't about to fall over dead on us, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to salve her mind with a lighter topic." She rapped her fingers on one wrist, before smiling. "Food and music... Let's see... Ah yes, how about ambitions for the future? It doesn't have to be anything too impressive, but perhaps some of you have already considered what you'd like to do when the war is over, hmm?" She tilted her head. "For my own part, I would much enjoy being able to have more time to refine my musical skills. Having my company practically be on the equivalent of 'war footing' for the past decade hasn't left much in the way of time for hobbies even with delegation. It would be quite pleasant to finally finish off those onerous Disablers so I can refocus funds into more constructive projects."

Henri had, for the most part, focused on his meal. A lot was happening both within the restaurant and at the television screen informing of the latest happenings in the world, especially with the US and their "New Roosevelt" having gained a renewed interest in the rest of the world.

And he had to admit, the Americans coming in were certainly a colorful bunch.

First there was the Liberator. While Arms-Masters have been compared to super-heroes ever since they appeared, Liberator took it to a whole new level. Uniform, presentation, everything. While the origin of his Noble Arm was classified (no surprise there), Henri guessed it must have been his patriotic spirit, considering how strong its America theme was. In other words a hero inside and outside.

Henri had a feeling Liberator was a product of a project similar to Laelaps. He was just too... Fitting, to have become an Arms-Master on his own. He should know. He had been fighting besides and against Arms-Masters long enough to know how random Noble Arms could be.

On the opposite side there was Baalphegor. Literally called the Archdevil of the Free Market, few knew for sure why she had customers. Some say she was the most honest capitalist on Earth, respectable in its own right. Others claim its the sheer refuge in audacity that protects her. And to be fair, someone who looks and acts like the Devil in real life is hard to believe. Henri himself couldn't help but chuckle a bit. She even smelled of sulfur.

Henri himself leaned more towards audacity. Baalphegor had the same feeling of planning as the Liberator did, only in the opposite direction. Lex Luthor and Lucifer in the same package.

"Well, whatever the case, I'll keep my eyes open" Henri thought aloud as he swallowed another quesadilla. Liberator and Baalphegor, the light and darkness of the USA. Both worth keeping an eye on.

And ear.

'Benjamin', like Henri, had been keeping to himself mostly while seated in the middle of everyone. Discretion and observation were his strengths, after all.
It was funny how the restaurant had his cover name as its own, and while enjoying the food, the agent had an inner celebration of his own. A celebration of his newfound freedom, or funeral of his old life, either way, he was alone, but not. He just had to do it this way. It wasn't like he could tell them after all, about who he had been, and who he did not yet know he was. Like two other members that would show up later, Lukas valued security, plus more security. Unlike many others, Lukas could sense incoming threats towards them, and as he sat perfectly relaxed, eating his mexican dish, 'Benjamin' was like a human watchdog, though no one knew that yet. If he was relaxed, there was good reason to believe no harm was on its way, and he was relaxed.

Between his cheese stringed bites however, he sometimes paused, and while both times were obvious, being a hero and a devil entering, the second time he suppressed a whole bunch of reactions, seemingly just eating, and politely using a napkin.

When the caped hero of patronism had arrived, Lukas had quietly added him to be his clown for the 'party'. It was funny, Lukas was having his own party of liberation, and now The Liberator was there. It was too perfect. 'Benjamin' coyly greeted the hero with a nod, as he was a man in demand of respect, and clearly with more important people to talk to first, so Lukas simply continued his meal while listening. As he had thought of Everett as a clown just now, too, he thought it better to wait for a better mentality before greeting him fully.

When the horned lady arrived, Lukas was glad he had kept calm, and not alerted the group just because he was overwhelmed by her confusing energies. After all, he had not sensed harm, just an intense shift between a general energy of malice and mischief, like an oven that burned just a little too hot against Lukas' passive ability about twenty seconds before.

He'd had to force himself not to move when sensing the group scattering on the roof. That was before Baalphegor had made her presence known to the group. Lukas had been right to trust the lack of harm in her energy. 'Benjamin' offered a small appreciative smile when it was established in the group that they were hers, and for the sake of protection.

Lukas found a sense of calm in the pieces put together now, and watched as the charming cape and horned beauty became the center of the conversations. 'Benjamin' had put Marble back into its sheath under his upper arm long ago, and looked at desserts while spying the group. He was baffled by the display of weakness from some, and amused at the reactions from the seemingly more professional ones. What a colorful group he had come to witness. Why did Henri watch the TV when he had a comedy right here? 'Benjamin' had greeted every new member with a polite nod, and minimal smiles, and left the proper welcoming to Myron and Callie, or the royal siblings. He was no one, after all~ Just a mercenary or volunteer with a Noble Arm.

Furthermore: Lukas kept his amusement hidden as the devil and her maid argued over a piece of chocolate. He wasn't sure he missed the life of a servant, after all, though he missed that special bond. Lukas, "the ownerless", as he suspected his 'dad' would call him now, couldn't help but ponder who his new master could possibly be.
Callie was kind, but firm, and strong. Smart. The devil was painfully tempting. So much he didn't dare think of it. Cape Everett was admirable, but less likely to accept a side kick like him. Plus, Lukas wasn't sure how he would fare in a cape. He had watched The Incredibles, and Edna's warning. Nope.

Lukas entertained himself with the thought of being in a console rpg game, where he could choose between two powerful directions: renegade, or paragon. He admired the cunning Baalphegor and The righteous Liberator, but who to start a conversation with? Freedom had felt confusing, stressful, and lonely, even in his short period of time in it. Feeling ambivalent about his next goal, Lukas huffed a deep sigh with his arms crossed, for the first time risking cutting someone off, or attracting attention. He was thinking; deeply, until he suddenly answered Baalphegor seriously "I think I'd start a farm." 'Benjamin' waited for the skepticism, or ridicule, as he did not look like the farm type. It was a joke, and he made it obvious with the way his blue eyes glinted, and was ready to sparr the idea with any who wouldn't believe he could.

He would much rather talk about chocolates and music, though, as Lukas loved the two. His taste was obvious due to his white, though recently dirty, daft punk t shirt. He looked like a punk, metal rocker to begin with anyway. And by how a plate of churros with extra chocolate sauce was served on the table in front of him, he definetily liked chocolate.

Intermission Five - Aftermath of Victory

Municipality of Lubao, Pampanga Province, Philippines - 1/1/2023, 10:15 AM, UTC+8

Myron took some of the chocolates before memorizing the color and shape of the pills Kaitlyn used; after all, his job was partly to observe and find secrets - Just because he let a few secrets out was a flaw, but also a lapse he'd remedy once it was time to be mindful again. Right now, he and Crown Prince Shinyahito were on Baalphegor's 'dislike list' and that was a very bad thing.

To be honest, he should be glad everyone now had a chance, considering the fact that he had been nervous just an hour or so ago. Either way, time to eat food; he'll need it, particularly as a thought entered his head and it needed to be said without breaking the OPSEC that their new members justifiably found so very important.

His tone turned calm, even, and professional as he spoke to Callie, then Lukas, then Baalphegor as he spoke again, "Can this establishment be further secured against surveillance and eavesdropping for the moment? There are... agendae that need to be set, and its best they be set outside of our current quarters in the Lubao City Hall; I'll share why in a few moments."

One should remember that this restaurant was in a City that had been under a politician-turned-warlord's rule, then was liberated by the Philippine Government of National Salvation just before Task Force Obsidian was transferred here, and most patrons were by necessity members of the PGNS, aka military men and civilian offiicals. So it was easier to secure this place than it otherwise would be.

He waited; he dutifully waited, and it was only when the restaurant was fully secure that Myron spoke the words that were so important he had to call for the immediate securing of the restaurant.

"Just before this battle, we fought and captured Fēng Lin, the Pig of the Zodiac, when she tried to take us all out alone and nearly succeeded. Feng's Noble Arm is a shield capable of 'Devouring' Arms Masters and their Noble Arms and using those powers; she had Noel' devoured, plus two other Arms Masters, a defector to our side named Shen Tu and a newly-awakened one named Mykhailo Martinez. But what made her both nigh-invulnerable, yet allowed her to be defeated anyway, was the fact that she had absorbed several Avatars of the Seven Virtues and at least one Avatar of Superbia of the Downward Descent."

There was an aura of calm, of clear-headedness, that was flooding everyone except Baalphegor right now, even the ones not listening to Myron's talk. Myron himself felt... encouraged, his mind suddenly supercharging itself seemingly on its own.

Then he added, " Fēng was defeated by our own Henri Janessens, then absorbed into my shield, then I let her out so that our resident healer, Marta Rocha, can keep her body from disintigrating from... the effects of the fight. It revealed two things: One, that the Seven Virtues attacked the black site in Gansu that Noel was being kept in after the Phnom Penh incident, and two, during this, Fēng and maybe one other - I suspect Huang Baihu, the Tiger of the Zodiac, or Ding Qi, the Dog of the Zodiac - actively attacked the Downward Descent in a fit of infighting so that Fēng's shield can be empowered."

His tone turned bitter, "We were able to win the Battle of Scarborough Shoal - La Naval de Manila, Part Two - Because this infighting meant that Huang and Ding were not able to join Wu Shufen, who nearly defeated our party alone some weeks earlier. That miracle won't repeat itself a second time..."

@Chiro@Nimbus@Digmata@Gerlando@Lloki@Creative Chaos (if returning) @Paths of Parity@esqueleto@Aisede@Lewascan2

Kaitlyn's eyes sweep over the room, tracking conversation as best she can while she recovers. She still looks pale and uneasy, but... Well, that may as well be her default. One thing she didn't miss from military life was the wild conversations and aura farming Arms Masters did.

Her eyes flick to Cristina as she collects some of the scattered pills - She hadn't realized she even dropped any.

"Thank you," she says quietly. Then she gets a good look at the girl. Cute is one word. Gentle. Fillipino? Livin' la Vida Loca's lyrics flash through her mind, and suddenly she wants to touch her. She bets she's delightfully warm to the touch. Great hugger.

Fuck. Katie! You're in public!

She blushes.

Not like hugs are wholely inappropriate, she could really use one about now, but this probably isn't the right venue.

She clears her throat, then looks to the blue-haired girl and flashes her a small, awkward smile. "Sorry about that. I'm fine now."

She's thankful that the other Arms Master's didn't raise a fuss over her condition. The Liberator didn't react at all, which was fine by her. The emo kid didn't either. And neither did Lidmann. She felt significantly more uneasy as the devil's eyes landed on her, and she nervously ran her fingers across the pin in her hair as she stared back doe-like.

What's her deal?

She's eyeing me up like a piece of meat.

When she brings up a new topic - what they'll do after the war - Kaitlyn's mind blanks.

After the war...?

To be honest, she would have joined the military even if a war wasn't raging... Or, she migh have, she's not sure.

"I'll continue service," she says almost automatically. It's not even something she really needed to think about. She wasn't raised in a military family, with service at the forefront of her mind. But she wants to be useful, and what's more useful than serving your country? Or saving the world, she supposes. Sure she is stressed sick by all the excitement, but she'd like to think she's handling this all rather well considering she hasn't had a mental breakdown yet. If she can face down apocalyptic forces on the regular, she can perform her duties as a mundane soldier. Bonus points if she gets any, well, bonuses in the process. She could save up the money. Maybe start a family.

She glances aside at the blue-haired girl as she thinks of this. Then Nil. Some small, quiet part of her mind asks where Nil comes from, and if she has any family. Suddenly, her mind turns towards governing an orphanage. Protecting those without a guardian.

Maybe she's less certain about her future than she thought...

Her stomach growls, and she's suddenly aware she hadn't had more than a grain bar to eat on the way here. She decides to order a quesidilla before the place is cleared out, and she's still eating it when Myron speaks up. She's much more composed now. Or as composed as she can be surrounded by pretty girls and people that could snap her spine like a toothpick.

Most of what he says slides right off of her, but at the mention of Fēng Lin, an Arms Master supposedly capable of absorbing Arms Masters, she grimaces. At least it sounds like the people she 'devours' aren't lost forever, considering the return of Second Lieutenant Alonso.

It also sounds like their enemies are turning on each other. What does that mean for them, though?

"Excuse me, sir, but what condition is Fēng Lin at the present time?" If the Downward Descent is so eager to empower Fēng, what's stopping them from coming down on them again to try and retrieve her? or 1-UP her so she can Mario stomp the entire team a second time? Herself included this time around.

She clears her throat, then looks to the blue-haired girl and flashes her a small, awkward smile. "Sorry about that. I'm fine now."

Peony smiled at Kaitlyn. “Glad you’re feeling better. We need everyone for this and it’d be a shame if we let one of our own be sidelined on their first day.” She was still concerned about the outburst for both her own and Kaitlyn’s sake but decided to trust the higher ups knew what they were doing when adding her to the task force until evidence suggested otherwise.

Municipality of Lubao, Pampanga Province, Philippines - 1/1/2023, 10:15 AM, UTC+8

The brief lull in the conversation in the time it took to secure the restaurant allowed the starving swordswoman to enjoy her meal in relative peace. With the entire task force here, there were few safer places even if the risk of being attacked was still non-negligible.

Her chewing slowed as Myron explained the fate of the Seven Virtues who had attacked Gansu. It was hard not to feel sorry for them, the Seven Virtues were easy to admire. Who wouldn’t look up to a group who gives up everything to help those in need regardless of reward like knights out of a fairy tale?

Her eyes trailed to Baalphegor and let out a thoughtful hum.

His tone turned bitter, "We were able to win the Battle of Scarborough Shoal - La Naval de Manila, Part Two - Because this infighting meant that Huang and Ding were not able to join Wu Shufen, who nearly defeated our party alone some weeks earlier. That miracle won't repeat itself a second time..."

Peony returned her attention to Myron before giving the question too much thought only to find she disagreed with the man.

Peony pushed her now empty plate to the side. “Miracles don’t happen in a fight.” She spoke up calm yet insistent. “We - or rather, the older TFO - won against the Monkey because they were more unified than their enemy, not because of blind luck. The same goes for our fight against Feng, not to mention we are far stronger than we were this morning.” She remarked, her gaze looking across the newcomers. “If she had attacked us now, the margin between victory and defeat would be significantly wider.” She looked momentarily uncertain suddenly as she tapped the table absentmindedly. “Although… I would prefer if we got to choose the terms of engagement next time. If we keep letting them plot the when and where then we will always be on the backfoot.”

"Excuse me, sir, but what condition is Fēng Lin at the present time?" If the Downward Descent is so eager to empower Fēng, what's stopping them from coming down on them again to try and retrieve her? or 1-UP her so she can Mario stomp the entire team a second time? Herself included this time around.

The woman's eyes widened suddenly. “What about the Pig’s victims? Are they conscious?” While she did pity Feng, she hadn't forgotten what it was like to stare into the shield that tried to eat her or what the Zodiac did to her previous victims.

The following is an official GM Post, detailing external reactions to current events and precursor events to Mission Six.




@Chiro@Nimbus@Digmata@Gerlando@Lloki@Creative Chaos (if returning) @Paths of Parity@esqueleto@Aisede@Lewascan2