Chapter 6: What? I am American! (I)
—21 July 2023 (Few months ago)—
Andrew Ashford POV
After the prompt discovery of the magical armor after several weeks of tireless excavation in the sandy expansive Negev desert, I spared no expense in ensuring a thorough scouring of every crevice and corner within that ancient temple. Delegating the task to others, I had other appointments that required my direct attention.
Ironically, one such appointment was to arrange yet another appointment.
The United Nations, the pinnacle of global diplomacy, stood as the largest and most influential international organization. Securing an audience with them was no small feat.
With their large scale, came an equally vast and busy schedule. The recommended channels for contact included sending emails to designated company emails or waiting moments upon moments on a hectic hotline to maybe potentially reach a representative.
But that's tedious.
Full of crap.
Luckily, I'm a man with money. A lot of money.
If accessing the international body as a whole proved fruitless, I figured that the next best idea was to dive deeper–a more targeted approach. Thus, my search settled upon a discontented ambassador within the organization.
Scott Brown. A seasoned US diplomat with decades of service under his belt. Despite looking through his wealth of experience, something stuck out to me. For all his extensive tenure, he lacked any truly noteworthy achievements–merely an extensive background.
Conveniently, he had recently assumed the post of deputy ambassador to the UN.
It seemed the perfect opportunity presented itself.
Employing the services of a skilled individual from the depths of the dark web, specializing in acquiring sensitive information through 'legal' means, I managed to procure a rather unexpected asset–a phone number belonging to his ten-year-old son.
What's the use of a phone number if it isn't used to call?
After inputting the number into my own phone, it buzzed a few times before falling silent.
"Hello?" A curious young voice rang from my phone.
"Ah, hello! You must be Josh," I responded, feigning an exaggerated enthusiasm that bordered on patronizing.
"Yeah… um, who's this? Are you one of Dad's friends?"
An innocent guess, kid. But why would one of your father's friends call his kids' number?
"Yeah! I must have accidentally dialed your number instead of his. Would you be so kind as to pass the phone to your dad? Just say it's a work-related matter, he'll understand," I requested, maintaining the charade.
There was a momentary pause before Josh answered.
"Okay! I can do that for you, mister. Just gimme a sec!" Josh's eagerness was evident.
Another interval of silence ensued until a knock, presumably on a door, echoed through the line.
"Daaaaaaad! A friend wants to talk to you!" Josh's voice loudly rang out.
"A friend? What would one of your friends want to talk to me about? You've been telling people at school I'm a diplomat again?" The voice–Scott questioned.
"Nooooo! He's not my friend! He sounds like an older guy who says that he's your friend from work!" Josh's response dripped with innocence.
I could sense his father's tension rising, despite being through the phone.
"Hand the phone over. And go play your Fortnite or whatever," Scott 0rdered, footsteps rushing off as his son complied. "So, who's this?" His voice, as clear as ever now being spoken directly through the phone asks.
"Ah, my apologies for grabbing your attention through your son. I-"
"Make this quick. Otherwise, I'll make you regret it–for using my son in such a manner." His voice came out calm, and direct. He's mad, beyond it, but his experience as a diplomat won't show it.
"My name is Andrew Ashford. Once again, I'll reiterate, I apologize for contacting you in such an inappropriate manner. I come bearing information that may change the whole world as we know it. I wish to use your position in the UN for a meeting." I explained, adhering to his command.
"Ashford…" Recognition flickered as my name rolled off his tongue. "So, what is it? What is this 'world-changing' news you bring."
"Well Mr. Brown, do you believe in magic?"
…
…
…
"Hmm… well, color me interested. It'll take some time from my end, but I can likely arrange that meeting for you."
After spending the last 20 minutes, giving a brief but informative summary of my events in Israel, it seemed I had won over Scott's interest.
"I thank you for all of your help, Ambassador."
"I expect you to have substantial evidence, something that can reliably back up this 'Arcanum' you speak of…" His voice trails off into silence before he continues. "I assume that this phone number you're calling me from is the best way to keep in contact with you?"
"That would be correct, Ambassador."
"Very well, keep an eye out for a message from me in the future."
With that final note, he hangs up, causing my phone to go silent.
I exhaled a sigh of relief. That went well, all things considered. Now… how best to prove the existence of something seemingly mythical…
Slumping into my chair, I swiveled to face my desk, noticing a notification buzzing from my other phone–a message from Sarah on a social media application.
…That could be a backup plan.
—------------------------
"So, what's the plan with the anime armor?" Sarah's voice floated beside me as we strode along the dusty path, the sun casting long shadows behind us.
I halted, turning to regard her with a raised eyebrow. "Let's refrain from calling it that," I replied, earning a giggle from Sarah for my reaction to her oddly accurate description of the mystical artifact.
Resuming our stride, we arrived at a nondescript shack-like building secured with a digital keypad lock. "We're going to try to break it," I answered casually, tapping in the access code with an experienced rhythm.
"Break it? Why the hell would you try that?" Sarah's confusion was palpable, her brow furrowed under the desert sun.
Stepping inside, we encountered another metal door requiring a thumbprint scan. "That's precisely the point. We're going to try," I explained, passing through the final security check.
Inside, my gaze fell upon what I sought: a wall adorned with an array of firearms, each one meticulously arranged and gleaming under the soft glow of the overhead lights. "It'll probably survive," I remarked, my eyes scanning over the lethal arsenal before me.
With a grin, I selected a rifle from the assortment. "Probably."
"So you plan to shoot the armor… with that?!" Sarah's incredulity was evident as she gestured at the rifle slung over my shoulder.
To be precise, my Barret M82A3 anti-material rifle, loaded with .50 BMG armor-piercing rounds. A rifle capable of penetrating over an inch of solid concrete with ease.
"Yes." Locking everything behind me, I motioned towards the exit of the building. "Are you coming? We have an audience waiting."
"An audience?" Sarah's curiosity was piqued, her steps quickening to catch up with mine, as we stepped back into the desert heat.
With a chuckle, "You'll see."
Sarah maintained her puzzled expression, trying to decipher my cryptic words. Shaking her head, she fell into step behind me, accustomed to my enigmatic ways.
Together, we continued along the dusty path, enveloped in comfortable silence, the occasional rustle of the desert breeze stirring the loose sand beneath our feet. Sarah was occupied with her phone as we walked, her fingers tapping away at the screen.
"Oh, by the way, keep your phone out. I want you to record this." I told her, my voice tinged with anticipation.
"Record wh-"
"There you are, boss man! We've been pretty eagerly waiting for you to arrive!" Hugo's voice rang out, cutting Sarah off, his excitement contagious as he greeted us with enthusiasm.
As we crested over the slight hill of the dune we were walking on, we were greeted with the sight of a few dozen people, the majority of whom had their own personal phones out, capturing the moment. Out towards the right of the group, approximately 200 meters away, a stand of armor stood. The magic armor we recovered.
Coughing into my hand, I adjusted my voice, projecting it across the gathering crowd.
"Alright! Welcome all, welcome everyone! I sent out an open invite to everyone on-site if they wished to spectate! My only request was to record and share absolutely everything you see here!"
Taking a moment to walk over towards a sandbag wall reaching up to my waist, I pointed out towards the sandy field at the armor in the distance.
"I wish to show everyone here that this peculiar-looking set of armor is supernatural! Capable of feats that regular items are incapable of achieving." Pulling the bipod down from the end of my rifle, I stabilized it on the firing position that had been set up for myself, before entering into a crouched position.
"This here, anti-material rifle, can penetrate roughly an inch of face-hardened steel. The same type of steel that is used to defend the lovely armored vehicles that you've all probably seen before." Finally, I load a magazine into the bottom of the rifle, before sliding the charging handle back with a satisfying metallic click, that echoed in the stillness of the desert.
"Now I ask you, the lovely audience who are here to witness this demonstration. Do you all here think that a set of regular plate armor would survive a round from this thing?" There were a couple of murmurs of disagreement coming from behind me before someone in the crowd shouted a very strong
"""""Hell no!"""""
"Haha! You're goddamn right! It'd absolutely destroy the thing! Now, I ask of you again, this armor set of unknown origins. Would that survive?" Aiming down the scope of my rifle, placing the set of armor within the center of my scope's reticle- "Let's find out, shall we!"
-I squeeze the trigger.
BOOM!
The sand beneath me erupted from the pure force that the gun just produced, as the large rifle kicked backward into my shoulder, reacting to its incredible recoil, sending a jolt of pain throughout my bones. The deafening roar of the rifle echoed throughout the desert, reverberating for kilometers in every direction.
"Hey! Hugo! Out of ten, what's your favorite number?" I yell out, my finger still on the trigger.
"Six! What's with the que-"
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
I squeeze and release the trigger five more times, soaring down five more rounds down range, the rhythmic cadence of gunfire punctuating the desert silence.
"Wooohee!" Pushing my finger up on the safety of the weapon, I flick it on before I rest the rifle against the wall, the adrenaline of the moment still coursing through my veins. "How you like them apples?!" After releasing round after round, my ears rang out in protest, the echoes of gunfire still pulsated in the desert air, a testament to the power of this demonstration.
As the dust settled, it became apparent that the armor remained unscathed, its surface gleaming mockingly defiant in the sunlight.
Did I miss?
Looking out towards the left of the sandbags, where a few cameras were present, I called out to the guys operating them.
"Hey! Did the high-speed camera catch all of that?"
"Yeah, yeah! Do you wanna check it out?" the camera operator yells back, the excitement of the moment evident in his voice.
"Of course!" Jogging over to where all the camera equipment was placed, the operator linked the captured footage to a large-screen TV that everyone could watch.
On the TV, stood a still image of the set of armor, the anticipation building with each passing moment.
"The first round should be coming into contact… anytime now." A moment later, the bullet flew into frame slowly, the tension in the air palpable as we awaited the outcome of our demonstration.
Roughly just a little smaller than the length of my hand, I feel my heart accelerate in anticipation as I watch the projective hit center mass with the armor…
…As if it were a soda can, the bullet collapses in on itself as if somebody crushed the round in between their hand before it slid off the ridges of the armor and hit the sandy floor.
There were mixed reactions from the crowd, some were just happy to see a big gun being fired, and others were astonished. Especially for those who truly knew the capabilities of the weapon, to see it so… ineffective, was shocking–I too felt it.
"Other rounds coming in now…" The camera operator announced.
The results were the same, each round that came in, had shattered, collapsing in on itself, the power of the armor is undeniable. However, three out of the six bullets hit roughly the same area, directly in the center, which did result in some sort of damage. Entirely minimal, although, the area that was struck repeatedly was barely dented. If you weren't purposely looking for it, you'd definitely miss it.
I wonder how explosives would work against it…
Breaking my thoughts, a buzz from my pocket alerts my attention. The phone that buzzed–my burner phone had received a text from a new unknown number. Opening the notification, I read the message:
「Next week from this message. Get to New York over to our headquarters. Make use of it well, the others, and I eagerly await to see what you bring us.
Scott Brown」
Good, that's good. Things are moving along nicely… Well, time to do more testing.
"Hugo! Bring over a wrecking ball!"