Scrawl Banditta
RPM
esqueleto
xVampire3go
Guardian Angel Haruki
NeziulBaalphegor
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."
