Thanksgiving for Deliverance [Earth II]

[Amigard]

Sing praise to the Lord, you faithful; give thanks to God's holy name.
For divine anger lasts but a moment; divine favor lasts a lifetime.
At dusk weeping comes for the night; but at dawn there is rejoicing.

--Psalm 30; 5-6

July 05, 2012—0930hrs local time
Bokan, Iran
36°31'16.00"N 46°12'32.00"E

Kayla Zimman wiped the sweat from her brow as she placed a fresh set of bandages on the stump that remained of a young childs leg; a young girls she couldn’t have been more than five years old and she whimpered softly as Kayla wrapped the appendage. Feeling the childs brow Kayla’s heart sank. The child was burning up.

The limb had obviously become infected and no matter how much pus she drained, there seemed to be a never ending supply of it. The stench was almost unbearable. The smell of death permeated the air of the large, crumbling building that once served as a hospital, but was now only a burned out shell. The building, along with what remained of the small town, had no electricity or running water, and the medical supplies were dwindling with each passing day.

Kayla had arrived in the small city of Bokan, Iran a few months ago as part of a humanitarian mission sent by the Kingdom of Israel and the Theocracy of Amigard. Most the airfields in the region had been devastated by the Russian bombardments and so she and a number of other relief workers had been flown in by helicopter. Despite the obvious destruction that could be seen from above on the ride to Bokan, Kayla had not been prepared for the horrors that had confronted her upon her arrival.

Many of the relief workers were trained medical professionals such as nurses, doctors, or EMT’s, but Kayla had no medical training; she was a sociology student at Tel Aviv University that had taken a semester off to join the relief effort in the shattered remains of Persia. It was the right thing to do in her mind and she couldn’t deny that it would look good on her grad school application. Amigardian universities were big on students that had a lot of volunteer work in their background. Kayla had no idea what she was about to put herself through. Though not a medical professional by any means she’d found herself assigned to the local hospital, or what was left of it. They always had need of people that could fetch supplies, clean wounds, and wrap bandages, and you didn’t need a medical degree to do that. When she wasn’t assigned to the hospital she spent her time serving meals at the mess tent.

Iran was a mess. The Russians had practically bombed the northern parts of the country back to the stone age. Infrastructure was nearly non-existent in some places, and barely above minimal in most. Some areas had regained power, running water, and other services thanks to the efforts of relief services provided by the Theocracy, but efforts were often frustrated by local strong arms and roving bands of bandits that were taking advantage of the lack of any law and order. It had quickly degenerated into a situation of the strong dominating the weak, and not even humanitarian workers were immune. Male workers were usually killed outright while female workers were kidnapped, raped, and then killed. Kayla had quickly learned to stay close to the hospital or the small base camp that had been established near the hospital where at least there were some armed guards; usually former Persian soldiers that had returned home when the government fell apart, or the remnants of local law enforcement.

There were few “green zones” however, and stepping outside of these safe areas was just asking for trouble, and so Kayla dared not wander too far. Occasionally, when the hospital ran short on medicine, she was forced to make her way to what was once the Vahdat Sports Complex which had become the location of the local black market and home to one of the more brutal gang lords.

But Vahdat was an extremely dangerous place for a woman like Kayla. Not only was she obviously not a native to the area, she was not unattractive and her auburn hair often made her stand out in a crowd in most places in Iran. Usually around once a week a helicopter would arrive with fresh supplies but there were times that the helicopter was late, held up somehow, or what was most common was that demand was simply too high for the supply to keep up with, especially anesthesia and anti-biotic. When this happened, someone had to retrieve supplies and often the Vahdat was the only place one could find them. With most of the other relief workers tied up providing medical care of some kind this left Kayla to fetch the needed supplies. Most of the time she was able to enlist the help of Khorshid Rostami, a young Iranian soldier that was among the guards at the camp. Rostami would escort her to the Vahdat armed with his aging AK-47 and the menacing look he shot anyone who looked twice in Kayla’s direction.

Kayla had the suspicion that Rostami was enamored with her since he spent an inordinate amount of his time wherever she happened to be, but Kayla could not return his affections. The horrors of Iran had weighed heavily on her and the images of suffering rarely left her at ease enough to even consider any type of romantic involvement. The young child that lay dying in front of her was a prime example; she had been brought in by a couple of local policemen that found her on the outskirts of town near an exploded piece of ordinance. From what they could tell it had been a bomb that had failed to go off until the young girl and her parents had happened by. The parents must have disturbed it because there were only pieces left of them while the child had lost a leg and taken some shrapnel.

The hospital had run out of anti-biotic again and though Dr. Charmchi, one of those few doctors that had survived the bombings, had shown Kayla how to clean the wound and did his best to disinfect it, he’d told her there was little else they could do until more medicine arrived. This meant Kayla was going to be heading to the Vahdat soon.

Rostami entered the room and looked around until his eyes fell on Kayla and then on the little girl. Frowning he approached, assault rifle slung on his back. “Hey, some of the staff here are talking. They need medicine pretty bad. I figured this meant you would be heading over to Vahdat any time now, want me to tag along?”

Kayla patted at the childs brow with a damp cloth “Yeah thanks Khorshid” she said with a slight smile “give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“You think the Theocracy will ever do anything more than send a few helicopters once in a while” Rostami looked at the young girl with a hint of bitterness. It was a bitterness that many throughout Iran felt, especially the areas that had been hit hardest by the Russians. Why had Amigard and the rest of the world sat by while the Russians destroyed their homes and their lives? Sure the Theocracy had been sending aid, but many Persians never saw that aid, only the few that were lucky enough to get close to the distribution points and even then the risk of being robbed of what aid a person did manage to get was extremely high. People were dying every day from starvation and exposure and still the international community stood by.

“I don’t know” Kayla replied somberly and the truth was she didn’t know; she had no clue. Every once in a while she would hear rumor that Amigard was going to send troops to help distribute aid and protect supply lines, but it hadn’t happened yet, at least not in Bokan.

[Byzantium Imperium]

Urmia, Persia
West Azerbaijan
July 8th, 2012

Silence from the world was all that had been received by the Persian people; which more often than not explained instantaneously the looks of absolute unbridled hatred when and where they could afford to do anything more than try and scratch out of their remaining rocks a living. The Russians had gone too far; this was an undeniable fact and each and every one of them would suffer the Wrath of God for it; this barbarism that they had inflicted upon completely innocent people, and on the basis of what? Terrorists; nothing more than a pathetic excuse to get the Russian war machine moving against something it could not possibly lose against, more than likely the attack in Gronzy being nothing more than a self-inflicted gunshot wound to enrage the bear to the point of seeing red. These thoughts were but a few which ran through the minds of the Romans who had at the bequest of the Council of Turkish States, rather than the Byzantine Hegemony, came to these sad, shattered remnants of what was once a proud and strong nation, to do nothing more than lend a hand to a people who sorely needed it.

The Romans had come along with the Amigardians; though with different purposes; in the back of the minds of some of the Romans at least, this would be a 'kind hand' in the same way some governments would break your legs before they handed you a crutch, was how they were looking at the Theocrats, whether that had a weight of truth to it or not though they really didn't care, both were doing a duty no one else would do, as in the east, bloodshed and war was consuming the already dead nation as the Paxians bore down on them; here in the north though, terrible was transformed into abysmal. There were no words in the languages of men that were strong enough to describe the unimaginable horrors which were visited upon these people for no other reason than their faith, that alone was beyond unforgivable; but to carry out a death sentence like this, to literally salt the fields with plutonium; that was cruel in ways that even Lucifer paled in comparison to.

The provincial capital of Urmia was no exception to this unabashed subhuman barbarism; the city; or what yet remained of it was in a pitiful state, ravaged and shaken to its core few buildings were left whole, while others were either damaged heavily or outright collapsed. The buildings that did remain, the Turkish Army Corps of Engineers were shoring up to make sure they didn't come down on their heads while they dolled out aid and provisions to the Persian people. It was unconventional perhaps to utilize an army in such a way, granted; but frankly there was no one around to stop them that wasn't just broken and no longer interested in fighting, and even less so when they learned the Turks were there to help.

The camp at Urmia was little more than a tent-city in the end however; everywhere that was stable had something around it, with officials filing through damaged reports from the city's central records offices looking for missing persons through census reports and birth records; while great lines of people were assembled for quickly prepared food and soldiers went around constantly in the heat handing out clean water while others, medical officers, fields surgeons and civilian doctors who had the stones to come along were treating the wounded, of which there was truly no shortage; in subpar conditions that even the hardened medics were staunch about being improved as soon as possible. It was a testament to Persian strength they had lasted this long at all in the ruins of Iran's Paris.

Supply and demand were a constant challenge to the logistical forces of the Turkish Army in Persia; thousands of tonnes of material was still to be shipped in from Anatolia to assist with the situation, and in the meantime there was an unwilling but necessary habit of dealing with shadow-merchants and black market dealers who had come to take advantage of the chaos, such moral-less and soulless individuals they were; much like others who had come to assist. Often than not more soliduses were handed over than the actual value of anything available but considering the fact bartering was the 'economic system' of the day in the end run, beggars couldn't be choosers. The great problem in the end was not the lack of supplies, nor the never ending flow of the wounded; no in the end it was the nature of man that was the most prevalent problem in Persia. While total anarchy had not yet to occur, it was teetering on that edge and banditry and other such acts were more than common; and that was a fact no one enjoyed; and the Romans came to the realization the larger their operations got, the larger the target they were painting on themselves; they didn't care though, considering the lives at stake, and carried on anyway; no one was picture perfect after all.

Akakios Areleous was one of few non-Turkish Romans who had come to Persia, a trained medic in the Greek army he was in an exchange program when the Turks had decided to dispatch their troops to the shattered nation. In the weeks he'd been there the young late twenties something man had seen more horrible things than he'd ever seen in his medical courses; he didn't honestly think that the human body could take the abuse that he'd seen here and survive, but survive the Persians did, dispelling all notions he had about the fragility of homosapien as for the three thousandth time that day (literally, he had counted) he finished stringing up an IV fluids bag on a severely dehydrated young man who they had founded just wandering around in the ruins, lost and disoriented beyond belief.

It concerned the medic a lot that they were starting to run out of the needed fluid-pouches which were so important to saving lives for more than obvious reasons. Along with that, he noted as he checked his medical bag, they were running out of gauze as well. He applied this across a long, but shallow gash that went up the young man's arm; it wasn't bleeding heavily amazingly, apparently it missed anything important or simply didn't go that deeply to begin with. Akakios would've applied an anti-infection as well but he'd run out about four patients ago. "You're going to be fine." He weakly reassured the man in Persian, a language which he barely spoke; honestly with the situation that was all around he very much doubted the young man would be alright, or for that matter any of them, granted he wasnt' a fatalist but things were...bleak to say the least.

Welcome to Persia, Population: Fluctuating.

[Amigard]

July 05, 2012—1015hrs
Vahdat Complex
Bokan, Iran

Rostami’s finger curled around the trigger of his worn AK-47 as he eyed the group of men that Kayla was busy haggling with inside a small rusty, and hastily built, shack near the north edge of what was once the playing field of the Vahdat Sports Complex, but which was now nothing more than a large dirt lot bustling with people in search of various items from food to assault rifles and hand grenades. He didn’t like the look of these men, and he had informed Kayla thusly, but as usual she simply reminded him that they needed the supplies and that Rostami said similar things about nearly every man they came across.

Rostami glanced out through the open door, making sure the old beat up jeep that they had arrived in was still there and unmolested. Things had a tendency to disappear quickly in the Vahdat of one didn’t keep a close eye on things and so Rostami spent a good deal of the meeting glancing back and forth between Kayla and the jeep, at one point stepping just outside of the door and shaking his head at a passerby who seemed to be eyeballing the jeep. The young Arab boy, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old, quickly scampered off after catching Rostami’s gaze.

Kayla was engaged in a heated debate with a trio of men. The leader, a small gangly looking man, was shaking his head “Your petty trinkets have no value to me” he was saying in an offhand tone “certainly not worth what you are asking in return. Although I can see something of value that I may be willing to take in trade.” The man leered at Kayla’s body greedily.

Rostami took a step forward, anger bubbling up in his stomach. Kayla held her hand up in gesture that told Rostami to stay put and he obeyed eyeing the frail little man with contempt. Rostami knew that the young college student had dealt with her fair share of advances from despicable men similar to the ones that stood before him, but this knowledge did little to alleviate the hatred and disgust that welled up within him as a result of the man’s obvious suggestion.

“I am not for sale” Kayla replied, her face expressionless “I can give you these items plus fifty Amigardian Hosts.”

The little man shook his head again “Hosts have almost no value here in Persia” he said “but young women are of great value. Especially unused ones” again the man looked over Kayla with hungry eyes.

“That is not negotiable.”

“Everything is negotiable sweetheart” the man smiled revealing a gap toothed grin “and you learn quickly here that those things you cannot trade for, you take by force”

Rostami charged his AK and leveled it at the little man; the two brutes flanking the man returned the favor and leveled their own rifles at Rostami. Kayla stood in the middle hands up in a gesture of peace trying to separate the posturing men.

“I will put a bullet in your head little man!” Rostami spat “I think the young lady’s offer is quite reasonable.”

“Your friend here is very brave, if not a bit stupid” the little man said as he sized up the situation “you realize you will never make it out of here alive if you kill me?”

“I don’t doubt that I die as soon as I put a bullet through your brain pan, but then you’d be dead as well and what good is that to you?”

The little man motioned to his guards and they lowered their rifles. After a brief pause, Rostami followed suit. “You have balls, I’ll give you that…and I suppose that is worth something in Persia.” The little man turned to Kayla “very well you give me these items here and the fifty hosts and I will give you two crates. No more, no less, and no negotiating. Take it or leave it.”

Kayla nodded and the transactions complete her and Rostami loaded a pair of wooden crates into the back of the jeep. Kayla frowned at the Amigard flag painted on the sides of the crates flanked by a pair of red crosses. The supplies were obviously raided from somewhere, most likely from a medical convoy enroute from one of the various distribution points located throughout the area. The distribution points were usually heavily guarded by Amigard soldiers, but this protection did not extend very far and it was increasingly common for raiders to wait for a convoy to arrive at a distribution point, load up with supplies, and then attack as the convoy made its way back to deliver the supplies to the areas in need. Rostami wondered if the crates they were carrying weren’t crates that had initially been earmarked for the local hospital anyway and they had just paid for supplies that the hospital was supposed to have delivered to it in the first place.

July 05, 2012—1015hrs
Office of Humanitarian Aid
Amigard City, Iraq Diocese, Theocracy of Amigard

The building that housed the Office for Humanitarian Aid was a recent addition to the Cathedral of Saint Michael complex. A brand new two story building, it and several of the other surrounding buildings modern architecture was in stark contrast to the ancient buildings that made up the center of the complex.

Ediz Ali Değirmenci sat in his small office, its bare white walls made him uncomfortable but he’d had yet to set aside the time to decorate. The small framed photograph of his wife and two young daughters that stood on his desk near his computer was the only personal touch he had managed thus far.

Ediz sat at the desk, fingers clicking away at the keyboard. He glanced up occasionally to make sure his supervisor wasn’t hovering around the office like he had a tendency to do at times as this would seriously interrupt his Facebook time. Having updated his status and browsed through a few funny anecdotes and images, he decided it would be a good idea to get some actual work done.

Ediz was one of dozens of employees responsible for processing aid requests from the various government and civilian relief organizations the Theocracy currently had operating in Persia. It was a monotonous routine, not much more than number crunching and data entry really. The requests came in and the system automatically identified what resources were immediately available and what resources needed to be requested from various agencies. Ediz plugged the needed resources into an automated form which was passed on electronically to the Bureau of Acquisitions (BOA) which was located in the same building. A BOA agent contacted the respective agencies and filled the order to the nearest distribution center. An agent down the hall put everything together and verified that the order had been filled, and then filed the appropriate transportation forms that would bring all those resources together to whatever distribution center was closest to the requesting agency.

Ediz and his family had emigrated to Amigard from southeastern Turkey in January of 2011 where his bachelor’s degree in statistics along with the years he had put in for the Federation of Eurasia’s Census Bureau quickly found him a place in the Office of Humanitarian Aid, albeit as a glorified data entry clerk. Still, it was better than being unemployed and after the Federation had fallen apart he’d spent years going from odd job to odd job just trying to keep his family fed. After years of subsistence Ediz could finally afford a few luxuries; he owned his own car, had a mortgage on a decent sized three bedroom house, and he’d hoped to one day save up enough money to even have a pool in the back yard.

Bringing up the next request order Ediz began to plug the numbers in, it was nearing fifteen hundred hours and he would be expected to process at least a dozen more requests before the end of the day or he would probably hear about it. Something was oddly familiar about the request that had popped up on the screen. He almost dismissed the feeling, but instead decided to bring up the history tab.

He’d processed a similar request to the same agency and region over a dozen times in the last month. The request consisted mostly of medical supplies and food, which was not uncommon, but the amount of the request was growing rapidly. A red flag icon in the comments section caught his attention and he clicked on it.

“Items needed desperately” it said “distribution is disrupted by local militias, we need military assistance!”

Ediz checked the locale and the agency “Western Azerbaijan Province” he read aloud “southern district…Bokan area.”

Leaning back in his chair he stared at the screen for several moments processing the information, rereading the comment several times. The request was put in by the Amigard Relief Services, a government sponsored agency. He rarely looked at the comments section of the request forms since it generally had no bearing on his job. All he had to do was plug in the numbers, the guy down the hall would surely deal with these things; not him.

Shrugging, Ediz completed the form and clicked the transmit button then moved on to the next. It really wasn’t his place to worry about these things. He watched the news like everybody else in Amigard; he knew Persia was in shambles and close to anarchy. Of course the average Amigardian was blissfully unaware of the extent of the brutality and chaos, the news networks generally refrained from showing images deemed to be too disturbing. Despite the fact that the Theocracy shared a border with Persia, most Amigardians went about their daily lives without too much thought about the suffering that was taking place there.

When the Russians invaded and went about setting fire to nearly everything in Northern Persia the news networks in Amigard were ablaze with near constant coverage of the atrocities that were taking place, but months later coverage had died down and many Amigardians had gone about their lives, occasionally donating money or food to various relief agencies; but the bombs were no longer falling and engulfing peoples’ homes in flames so most news networks had moved on to other events, and Persia was slowly pushed into the corner of most people’s minds; the subject of coffee house banter where people talked about how awful it must be for those poor Persians, but really had no true concept of what it really looked like.

Ediz was guilty of this despite the fact that every day he saw the request forms. Then again, those forms were impersonal; they did nothing to make the suffering real. The screen told him that an area like Bokan needed anti-biotic, but it did not show the young child with the gangrenous rotting limb that was waiting for that much needed medicine. The request for grain was a line item in plain text, not an image of a little boy, weak and emaciated, dying from starvation while his parents were forced to look on in despair.

So Ediz pushed the nagging feeling to the back of his mind and tried to go about his business. It was not his place to question these things, and even if he did question it would it make any difference? There were more important people in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and surely they were aware of the problem, who was he, a simple data entry tech, to bring things to the attention of the powers that be?

The rest of the day went on as it had each day before, except for the feeling that kept nagging at him, screaming at him that something was not right, demanding that he dig deeper. That night as he recounted the events of the day to his wife over supper he mentioned the red flag and the feeling it had given him.

“Was that the only one with comments like that” Dilay asked as she cleared the table.

“I don’t know” Ediz shrugged “there were quite a few requests with flags, but I didn’t really pay attention to them. It’s not my place.”

“Maybe you should look at them more closely.”

“I don’t know…surely the higher ups know about it.”

“Even if they do know what are they doing about it?” Dilay had started filling the sink with water getting ready to start on the dishes.

“I don’t know” Ediz admitted as he wrapped his arms around his wife and nuzzled her neck “what can they do about it? What can I do about it?”

Dilay placed her hand gently on Ediz’ cheek “You do what your conscience tells you to do, listen to what God is telling you to do my love.”

[Amigard]

July 05, 2012—1025hrs
Bokan, Iran

Kayla could see concern on Rostami’s face as he periodically glanced in the rear view mirror. The old beat up jeep barreled through the streets away from the Vahdat and it was obvious that he was willfully picking up speed.

“Something wrong?” Kayla asked as she turned to look behind the vehicle. Traffic was light since not only had a good number of vehicles been destroyed during the Russian invasion, but the roads were often in shambles and filled with pot holes. What traffic did exists was usually old cars or jeeps used by the various humanitarian agencies, what was left of the police force, or whatever vehicles the lackeys of local gangs or smugglers were using to transport their illicit goods. It was easy then, for Kayla to spot the van that was tailing them.

“Shit” Rostami hissed as he spun the steering wheel to avoid a pothole. The jeep fishtailed as it hit a patch of loose gravel but Rostami quickly corrected.

The van was a faded maroon colored passenger van; the paint on the hood had chipped and fallen away in places revealing a rusted grey. Kayla could make out the driver and another man in the passenger seat but couldn’t tell if anyone occupied the back passenger compartment, although she assumed that there were others. Her heart began to pound in her chest as the situation dawned on her. Facing forward she eyed Rostami nervously.

Rostami wore a mask of concentration and focus as he drove the jeep into a tight turn around a corner causing the tires to squeal. His lips were pulled tight, forehead furrowed Rostami’s eyes darted back and forth as he searched for an escape route periodically checking the mirror to see if he had shaken the pursuers. No such luck. The van continued to inch closer. Focused on the pursuit, Rostami never saw the small sedan that smashed into the driver’s side rear of the jeep as he entered the intersection.

The collision sent the jeep spinning wildly, the seatbelt dug painfully into Kayla’s chest . The jeep spun around several times before slamming into a crumbling building, what used to be a grocery store, and coming to rest on the sidewalk.

The world had gone dark but she could hear the hissing of the jeeps engine, and the trickling sound of fluid that was spilling out onto the ground. Pain coursed through Kayla’s body and she let out a weak groan. Her eyes opened to reveal a blur of light and shadow. Struggling to focus Kayla brought her hand to her forehead and blinked; her head was pounding but the world slowly began to come back into focus. Panic set in as she looked to her left to find that Rostami was no longer in the driver’s seat. Looking about frantically she finally caught sight of him, lying face down in the intersection. He had not worn his seatbelt and had been thrown from the vehicle on impact.

A man approached Rostami’s body as he lay there and raised an AK-74 rifle. The man placed two rounds square into Rostami’s back. The shots were nothing more than dulled popping sounds in Kayla ears, drowned out by the shrill scream of fear mixed with despair. A moment later Kayla felt herself ripped out of the passenger seat.

She kicked and screamed for help, she tried to bite the hands of the men that were dragging her through the street, but it was no use. Kayla found herself surrounded by gruff looking men, their grip on her was absolute. They drug her past Rostami’s limp body and she caught sight of a stream of blood that flowed out of it and began to pool nearby. The image seared itself into her mind as she felt herself thrown backwards. A pair of hands held her down as the van’s side door slammed closed and the van sped away a moment later.

[Amigard]

July 13, 2012--1215hrs
Amigard City
Iraq Diocese, Theocracy of Amigard


For all its claims of being the headquarters of the Amigardian relief effort throughout the world bringing much needed supplies and assistance to countries around the globe, The Office of Humanitarian Aid was still a bureaucracy, and a fairly large one at that. In many ways, and in many departments, it was a numbers game; that was how success was measured and defined. Supplies were gathered, counted and inventoried, and then shipped off to whatever destination was deemed to be in need of them. Supplies that arrived safely at their destination were again counted and inventoried and then a report was sent to the Office of Humanitarian Aid indicating successful receipt.

The problem was that, though the supplies were arriving at their destinations, this did not mean that they were being adequately distributed to those in need, particularly in a place like Persia. Of course, this was not something that was being actively measured. So far as the Office of Humanitarian Aid was concerned they had successfully delivered $24 billion hosts worth of aid to the shattered remains of Persia. Food, clothing, building supplies and medicine along with doctors, nurses, engineers, and volunteers from all walks of life were being pumped into Iran on a daily basis.

Prior to the Russian invasion of Persia, Ethiopia was the Theocracy’s leading recipient of humanitarian aid. Five percent of the Amigard budget was dedicated to foreign humanitarian relief adding up to more than $245 billion, twenty percent of that was earmarked for Ethiopia. Shortly after the Russians invaded and devastated the country the Theocracy had dedicated another twenty percent of its humanitarian budget to Iran; that was almost $50 billion worth of aid making its way to Iran annually. At least that was what the numbers were saying at the Office of Humanitarian Aid, but the reality was far removed.

Without boots on the ground, only a slim percentage of the relief was actually getting to the people that needed it most. That was what all the red flags on the request forms were screaming when Ediz had gone back over them. The supplies were arriving in Iran only to be siphoned off by local warlords or roving gangs. Most local police forces were too decimated to do much of anything about it, or in some cases they were participating in the chaos either actively or passively by doing nothing to intervene. This was especially true in the northern and west central areas of the country, the areas that had been hit the hardest by the Russians.

Ediz had presented the problem to his supervisor who promptly dismissed it by telling Ediz it was something for the higher ups to worry about; surely they were already aware of the problem. Ediz couldn’t let it go, however, and he spent more and more of his time digging up old requests looking for patterns or some evidence that the government was responding to the crisis. He found nothing to suggest that they were, and he began to fall behind on his quota. It was all about the numbers after all and it wasn’t long before he was sitting in the supervisors office listening to him drone on about how he needed to focus and that the best way to help the people in Persia was for him to process those requests in a timely manner.

Shortly after the pep talk Ediz decided to take an early lunch to clear his head. He walked down the busy street to a small café located about three blocks from the Cathedral complex where he ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Producing the newspaper he had bought at the Cathedral commissary he glanced over the headlines but saw little that interested him. There was some blurb about a vote in the Sinaen Republic that gave police a wider range of authority which allowed them to cut through bureaucratic red tape more efficiently. The columnist was not a fan of the way the vote had gone and complained at length about the dangers of such a move.

Ediz wasn’t so sure; it seemed to him like letting the police do their jobs without so much red tape was a good thing. Then again he was not a political analyst and admittedly he knew little about the implications of the vote. Persia continued to make the news even though it was no longer plastered all over the front page as it had been months before. Instead the recent visit of the Crown Prince of Apilonia dominated the front page. The column regarding Persia spoke of the ongoing humanitarian disaster that was taking place in Amigard’s neighboring country, and how people continued to suffer and die.

The Amigard Government insists it is doing all it can to alleviate the suffering in Persia, yet people are dying in droves and the country is quickly descending into anarchy the column read. Ediz suddenly felt a wave of guilt flow over him as he looked around the café. People were eating their lunches, drinking coffee, laughing and talking about the day’s events. Meanwhile thousands were starving, not only in Iran, but throughout the world. It seemed somewhat surreal to Ediz that while he was nibbling on his sandwich there was probably a young man his age in Iran that would be willing to kill him to get his hands on it to feed himself or maybe his family. It wasn’t something that Ediz had ever considered before, and the thought bothered him.

He remembered his days in Turkey, after the Federation had collapsed and he’d lost his job. His family didn’t starve, but they came close on more than one occasion living off of little more than what the local soup kitchens could provide when they could provide it, which was sometimes rare. While Ediz never got to the point where he seriously considered killing someone the thought had crossed his mind.

Once he’d been walking home from his latest failure at finding work. Passing a local grocery store he stopped and stared at a young man that had just exited the building. He was carrying a sack full of groceries toward a shiny new black Lexus sedan. The man wore dark grey slacks and a maroon button up shirt. The middle class had shrunk down significantly in Turkey at the time but it still existed and Ediz was bitter about the fact that he was no longer among them. Anger had welled up in the pit of Ediz’s stomach then and he glared at the young man who pretended not to notice but eyed Ediz warily and hurried toward his car.

What hurt Ediz most about that moment was the look in the young man’s eyes. He could see the distaste mixed with pity. To the young man, Ediz was nothing more than a common street walker, a beggar. He had certainly looked the part. Ediz had worn the closest thing to a suit he still owned but it was obviously worn and dirty. A discolored patch dominated the left elbow of the jacket and his shoes were scuffed and cracked. Even now, sitting in the small café sipping coffee Ediz could see the young mans face as he tried to avoid Ediz’s gaze and it made him angry the way the young man seemed to be judging him.

Ediz kept walking but as he walked passed the young man pulled out a small pastry and presented it to him. Again with that look of pity; it infuriated him to take hand outs from this man who seemed to represent everything that Ediz used to be, but he couldn’t turn it down. He accepted the small gift with a slight smile and a quick thank you and then quickly made his way home to divide the treat up amongst his children, but he was filled with self loathing.

Ediz realized though that, in a way, the way the young man treated him on that day was similar to what Amigard as a nation was doing to the people of Persia. They acknowledged that the people of Persia were suffering but they forced it into the back of their minds and threw scraps at them occasionally in order to make themselves feel better, like they had done their good deed; their small part to make the world a better place. The reality was that Amigard was handing Persia a small pastry just like the young man had done years ago while looking on with pity and a hint of judgment for allowing themselves to be victimized; for not pulling themselves up by the bootstraps.

It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Amigard had to do more than make the numbers look good. Persia was not going to heal with generous donations of medical supplies or food or building material. The Theocracy had to ensure that those supplies got to where they were needed. It’s hard to pull oneself up by the bootstraps if one doesn’t even have boots.

[Byzantium Imperium]

Urmia, Persia
West Azerbaijan
July 12th, 2012

A few days here, a few hours there; it didn't take long to lose track of any semblance of the passage of time as the Hell that was 'life' in the crumbling nation swept one up in it. The Quartermasters kept the supplies coming in as promised, it only took a while to get the army bureaucracy moving in a positive direction. The godsend to Persia was in the form of blade-wash from helicopters from the Turkish Army aviation; from the rumble of the engine blocks of their trucks as they came enmasse with thousands of tonnes of material, of much needed precious supplies like simple food and clean water; with a secondary nod to the medical and other such supply they brought with them. There wasn't much in the form of armed troops, light AFVs such as the Naga and simple assault rifles; it wasn't an army that had come to conquer, it was an army that had come to give life; armed with bandages and water bottles over bullets and tanks.

God did not factor into it for the Turks; no supernatural morality could give precedence over the fact that people in trouble genuinely needed help from their neighbors. Admittedly those neighbors had before now left them to struggle silently but factors changed, things became reality when Persian civilians started showing up in Turkey's eastern most provinces, begging for help, for asylum and simply the right to survive. Many Turks opened their doors; and soon thereafter began screaming at their governments to begin to do something to alleviate the suffering of a people that before those months had never really affected the Turkish people in recent history; who had nothing to do with them culturally, linguistically or in any way outside of the fact they shared a minuscule land border which provided the destitute and homeless masses a place to flee to.

Flee they did, at that; in the thousands they had swarmed the Turkish border which was admittedly rigidly patrolled; thankfully the standing orders to...well end anyone who tried to border-dodge were lifted in a bit of precognitive sight from the Turkish army's higher ups, no need to further frighten an already beaten people; never hit a man when he's down.

In Persia proper the first batch of Turkish aid workers and soldiers were rotated out for the far better equipped replacements for them that had been levied from across the country; from as far away as Adrianople the Turkish States pooled their resources for just one tiny area of Iran, it wasn't all that they could do; but it was more than they had been doing so far.

[Amigard]

Theocracy of Amigard
August 13, 2012

Ever since the Russian invasion of Persia the Amigard government had been struggling with what role, if any, the Theocracy should play in the affairs of its neighbors, particularly relating to intervention in times of crisis. Persia had left a bitter taste in the mouths of many Amigardians who were discontent with the government’s response to the situation. While Amigard had established a no-fly zone near the end of the conflict, the fact that it did too little too late was not lost on the people of the Theocracy. Persians died by the thousands during the onslaught and even more had starved or died of exposure after the Russians left their country’s infrastructure in shambles.

The Theocracy had sat idle and watched as its neighbor was bombed back into the stone age, and its citizens butchered. Sure the government condemned the actions of the Russians but those were empty words to the Persians and to most Amigardians as well. Amigard accepted refugees by the thousands, and sent humanitarian aid to affected areas but many refugees died before they could make it to the camps and those that did make it lived in conditions not far removed from mere subsistence. Meanwhile supplies rarely made it to those most in need as the nation degenerated into a state of near barbarism with the strong taking from the weak at will.

It was a condition that more than one nation throughout the world was suffering under. Ethiopia was a prime example of this, and Amigardians were not unaware of conditions in that war torn country as well as others throughout the world. The question that remained, however, was what should the Amigard government do about it, if anything? Was the Theocracy obligated in any way to intervene in situations where such heinous abuse was taking place? Or should it simply look the other way and tend to its own affairs? How did the just war doctrine play into all of this? Was it ever just to use military force against a government that wantonly abused or neglected its own people or its neighbors?

For months after the Russian invasion of Persia officials at the Cathedral debated back and forth in sometimes heated discussions that nearly degenerated into outright violence on more than one occasion. Then in June the Lay Council had come together and all but demanded an answer to these questions, advising the Cardinal that the people of Amigard were becoming impatient with the governments lack of a firm policy on the matter. The Amigard response to the Russian atrocities in Persia gave the appearance that the Theocracy was either too weak to respond or somehow unwilling to do so with any conviction. How could the Theocracy stand by while anarchy reigned next door?

Cardinal Steele gathered his advisors and called a special meeting of the Council of Bishops to discuss the matter. The debate raged for nearly a week, starting on August 1st and not ending until the evening of August 6th at the end of which the results of the debate were released in a series of documents that were known collectively as “The Articles of Just Intervention.”

The Articles were released publically on August 13, 2012 and stated in essence that not only was the use of force justified in cases of egregious abuse or neglect by a government against its own people, but that the community of nations as it were was obligated to intervene so long as the elements of the Just War Doctrine were met.

In other words, if the government of a neighboring country engages in abuse or neglect of its own people to the extent that the damage is lasting, grave, and certain or there exists a lack of government that effectively leaves a territory in a state of anarchy, the community of nations are morally obligated to intervene (by force if necessary) to restore peace and order. The articles were clear, however that all other elements of the Just War Doctrine must be present; ie all other means of putting an end to the abuse/neglect have proven to be ineffectual or impractical; there must be a serious prospect of success; and the use of arms must not produce evils and disorders graver than the evil to be eliminated.

The Articles went on to declare the finding among the Council of Bishops and the various advisors to the Cardinal that military intervention in Persia during the Russian invasion of the country would not have fit the definition of a Just War given the fact that a military conflict with Russia at the time would not have had a serious prospect of success, and that ultimately such a conflict would have produced greater evils and disorders than that which the government of Amigard was seeking to eliminate. While those at the summit decried the abuses that took place in Persia at the hands of the Russians, it recognized that the Amigard government was not in a position to intervene in any significant way without the possibility of military conflict with the Russian State.

The summit did, however, determine that upon the withdrawal of Russian forces from the region and the subsequent collapse of the areas government and infrastructure, the Amigard government should have intervened more directly than it did and that, given the regions current state of anarchy and unless the situation were to change soon, the Theocracy would be justified in taking control of the area in order to restore order to the region and distribute humanitarian aid.

As a result of the summit and the subsequent ‘Articles of Just Intervention’ political analysts speculate that the Theocracy of Amigard will likely become far more proactive in the affairs of its neighbors and the global community.

[Amigard]

Within days of the announcement regarding the Theocracy’s policy of ‘Just Intervention’ Cardinal Steele ordered the Army of Saint Gabriel’s III Corp as well as the 3rd Airborne Division, the 2nd Special Forces Group, the Amigard Army Corp of Engineers, and elements from the Special Operations Civil Affairs Brigade to prepare for military operations in Iran in support of the humanitarian relief effort there. Operation ASAD was set to begin in the early morning hours of September 1, 2012 and if everything went according to plan, which was admittedly unlikely, the majority of Western Iran would be occupied by Amigard military forces within a month, although this did not necessarily mean that the country would be anywhere near stabilized at that time.

Given the state of the Persian military Amigard military analysts didn’t anticipate much in the way of any organized resistance, but once units were in place there was a significant chance that Amigard forces would be dealing with a well entrenched insurgency. But over the course of the past year or so the Theocracy had plenty of experience dealing with insurgency, particularly in Saudi Arabia. The primary concern was whether military forces could maintain the peace long enough, and over a wide enough geographical area, for civilian contractors in cooperation with the Army Corp of Engineers to reestablish the nation’s government and infrastructure.

The plan called for the Amigard Air Force to knock out any remaining Persian aerial assets including radar and SAM sites and to follow this up with bombardment of any entrenched Persian Army assets, after which the Army would move in on a three pronged assault. The 10th Infantry Division would strike at the north from Soran moving along Highway 3, which was pretty much the only approach through the mountains into Iran from Amigard. The 10th would take the city of Piranshahr and then continue east to Mahabad and from there begin the process of occupying northern Iran. The 11th Infantry Division would stage in Basra, move east into Iran and take Highway 37 to Ahvaz where it would establish its headquarters and begin the process of occupying and pacifying the surrounding areas. The third prong would come from the 3rd Airborne Division which would drop its assets near Saveh in the Markazi Province, then move to occupy the city and the surrounding area. All three prongs would be supported by the 4th Armor division and the 3rd Mechanized Division. The Army of Saint Gabriel’s V Corp would be activated and utilized as reserve and support if needed.

The Persian military had taken a significant beating by the combined Russian and Layartebian assault but they had not been obliterated. The biggest issue facing the Persian military was a lack of cohesion and a fractured command. When the national government collapsed and the Russian and Layartebian assaults began various military and civilian leaders withdrew from the embattled areas and went about carving their own territories out of the fallen Republic. The Persian military as a unified, cohesive fighting force ceased to be, but it hardly meant that Amigard forces would be moving into an area devoid of any military assets capable of resistance.

The northern territories were the worst off as the Russians had been extremely thorough in their scorched earth policy. In these areas the Persian military presence was largely limited to a few local militias armed with little more than assault rifles, RPG’s and maybe a few trucks. The more central areas, however, retained a good portion of their infrastructure, including roads and highways, along with military hardware such as tanks and IFVs although the subsequent infighting that occurred as various factions formed and solidified their holdings helped reduce the threat to Amigard forces not only on account of the scattered nature of any resistance they could mount, but also on account of the inevitable loss of hardware and personnel that naturally occurred as a part of combat.

While the lack of infrastructure and the state of near anarchy had created the need for intervention in the north, it was the constant and brutal nature of the conflict that had unfolded between the various factions in the central and southern areas that created the need for intervention there. The Amigard government did not need an Ethiopia for a neighbor and if the situation in Iran continued to degenerate at the rate it had been over the course of the past year that was what officials feared would become the reality in Iran, and that was unacceptable.

[Byzantium Imperium]

Imperium Romanum
Constantinople - Anatolia
July 14th - 2012

Several ministers were located in a large meeting room in the newly refurbished Imperial Palace of the Byzantines; every member of the Byzantine Government was not present, such things were impractical with the sheer size of the confederacy; though the Council of the Turks was there and the President of Greece along with their various ministers and government agents debating the status of the Turkish humanitarian mission in Persia. The Turks needed access to the wider resources of the Empire in order to more efficiently assist the Persian people from their current plight, ergo they needed hands, lots of them.

As well as more importantly more supplies, security, all the problems that came with helping people that were teetering on the edge of anarchy. To compound all matters; rumor also had it that the Amigardians were planning something less than noble; while there was no proof to that at the moment; Caesar saw it as an opportunity to expand the Empire's influence and territory; though it wouldn't be traditional imperialism. The Empire had just come to agreements with Amigard regarding friendship and so on so such political machinations had to be carefully planned.

There were no treasons planned, no secret plots to undermine their newly found allies; just very careful planning to secure a small section of Persia to preserve their culture and way of life; though admittedly as a Byzantine Exarchate than an independent nation it would be better than the alternatives, invasion and force of arms, or anarchy.

So the Empire's important people voted on the matter and the Turks voted among themselves and they all came to agreement that it would be imperative to move, and move quickly; the advantage being that the 32rd Corps of the Turkish Corps of Engineers was already in Persia; though majority unarmed and too busy providing much needed relief services than to facilitate any form of true occupation it provided an already existing foothold for the Turkish 3rd and the 76th Airborne Division that were due to begin operations by no later than September 1st in order to reestablish stability, governance and law and order within the regions that the Emperor had designated to be 'elevated' as he put it. If all went well it wouldn't take long to pacify the region; and it would entirely avoid the Amigardian movements, if they proved to be true.

[Amigard]

August 17, 2012—1730hrs
Office of the Cardinal, Cathedral of Saint Michael
Amigard City, Iraq Diocese

“How are things coming along on operation ADAS?” Cardinal Steele asked as he unbuttoned his clerical collar and, with a sigh of exhaustion, plopped himself into the chair behind the desk in his office. Removing his shoes he began to rub his feet. It had been a long day and the aging cardinal was ready to soak his feet in some hot water and call it quits. Unfortunately he still had a lot of work to do. The most immediate concern being the meeting of advisors he had called to discuss the ongoing situation in Persia.

“Everything is progressing nicely” said General Malik as he stood on the other side of the desk “we should be set to begin operations on schedule. However, the Byzantines currently have forces in the northern regions of Persia. Mostly engineers and the like; how should we approach them?”

“We don’t” the cardinal responded simply “avoid any areas where the Byzantines have a presence established. If they can stabilize the north, let them. We better coordinate with them though to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. John make sure we contact their government and coordinate our efforts.” Bishop Gardner nodded.

“Is it wise to reveal the movement of our forces?”

“Better that than to inadvertently come into conflict with theirs. Besides we aren’t giving them unlimited access to our military affairs, we’re just letting them know where our forces will be so they can avoid the area. We count the Byzantines among our friends after all, plus we need to know where their forces will be so we can avoid them as well.”

Malik nodded “The Second Special Operations Group is prepped and ready to begin the initial stages of the operation. Their primary goal will be to identify any potential friendly military and civilian groups and coordinate with them in support of ADAS.”

“Very good; what do we have in place for restoring a functioning government once we’ve occupied the area?”

Bishop Gardner answered this question “Obviously we cannot move in and simply declare the region another Diocese of the Theocracy” Gardner paused, “I guess we could, but the resulting unrest would be greatly counterproductive to the overall goal of restoring stability. My diplomats are arriving on the ground as we speak attempting to work with various local leaders throughout the area. Ultimately the plan is to establish a situation similar to what we currently have with The Kingdom of Israel. A largely autonomous protectorate of the Theocracy with a limited military force; once our forces have occupied and stabilized the region we can supervise elections for a new Persian Republic.”

“But we are talking about occupation here so it is likely Amigard will be seen as invaders by the Persians?”

“Initially yes, but hopefully once we get the process going the Persians will see that we are not there to impose our way of life on them and will be free to essentially govern themselves we hope that the status of invaders will fade away.”

“That’s putting a lot on hope” the Cardinal said with a frown “you know I’m a realist by nature…it’s great to have hope but I’d rather have a little more assurance than that before we go forward.”

“I’m not sure there’s really a way around it” Malik said “we can’t stabilize the region without boots on the ground and putting boots on the ground means sending troops to occupy the area and maintain the peace. Nations throughout the world do it all the time even though they try to sugar coat it and say it’s not an invasion it’s a peacekeeping force or some such. In the end though it’s all pretty much the same…armed troops enforcing the will of their parent nation in a foreign land.”

“Can we not provide support to appropriate local leaders without deploying large amounts of troops?”

“In the end that’s basically what we’re doing but we’re doing it on a larger scale and to accomplish that we need those troops to support the new government. There is no legitimately elected leader at this point so if we just choose one that we like and support that faction all we are really doing is setting up a puppet state and uniting all the other factions against us.”

“Our current plan attempts to unite as many local and regional leaders as possible without favoring one particular faction but the general is right” Bishop Gardner said “we can’t do it without military forces there to strongly encourage all the factions to participate in the process.”
“Coerce them into playing nice.”

“Coercion is a form of force, that is true, but it is sometimes necessary. I really do not believe we can accomplish our goal through purely diplomatic means. It hasn’t worked so far, and the situation is beginning to degenerate rapidly.”

The cardinal nodded solemnly “I understand. Still, we need to get a panel together to determine whether this situation truly meets the definitions defined in the Articles of Just Intervention.”

“The panel is in the process of being put together” Daniel Griffin, Amigard’s Minister of the Interior said as he stood near the back of the office hands in his pockets in his usual relaxed pose “per the Articles of Just Intervention the panel will consist of the Diocesan Inquisitors or their representatives. They will assemble on August 20th and we should have an answer before the end of that week although I doubt it will take that long.”

“You’re confidant that the elements are there?”

“I am.”

The cardinal let his gaze pass across the other ministers in the room. They nodded in agreement

[Layarteb]

OOC: Not that I plan to get involved military but I would like to get in on this story, you gentlemen have written it very well thus far.

Late August 2012

The scars of the Empire's war with Persia were far from covered. In northwestern Iran, where the Empire had embarked upon a skillful and secretive anti-terrorism campaign against perhaps the largest Al-Shams cell in the world, the people were still reminded daily of the action that the Empire took against Qarahziyaeddin, Chowrs, Gharanghoo, and Nazik by the ruined homes, cratered farm fields, and numerous graves where the people buried their dead. In those pitched battles, the Empire brought fear and violence upon an enemy that assisted the Persian government in the most egregious, diplomatic offense against the Empire in the entire 21st century, the capture of its embassy in Tehran. The daring rescue mission that the Empire had launched for its embassy had shocked the world and it certainly gave the Persians a moment's pause as they realized that whatever game of chess they hoped to play against the Empire ended in a resounding cry of "CHECKMATE!"

Then, as the Russians descended upon the country days later and embarked upon a genocidal fury to avenge Grozny, the Empire struck again, this time hammering the southern coast of Iran, seizing three islands, Kish, Kharg, and a month later, Sirri. Since that fateful December, when the Marines on Sirri Island lowered their weapons in victory, a calm quiet had fallen from the lips of the Empire as the Paixan military consolidated its power in the half of Iran that it controlled, leaving the western half to its own devices, devices which were, to say the least, hardly worth anything. The Russians had ensured that with their campaign of consolidated and remarkable destruction. For anyone interested in helping the Persians, western Iran was as large of a humanitarian crisis if there ever was one. The war had brought severe hardship to the Persians.

To ask if either the Russians or the Layartebians cared was a stupid question; they didn't. It was now up to those who sat idly by while the Persians embraced an alliance with Islamic fundamentalism and gave shelter to Al-Shams. It was now up to those who watched as the Persians seized the Empire's embassy and held its diplomats at gunpoint. It was now up to those who watched as Grozny burned under the fire of radioactive poison.

In the wake of the war, the Empire claimed no bases, no territory, and seized no assets from Iran save for the three islands in the Persian Gulf, which fared their share of systematic but strategic destruction, unlike the steamrolling that revitalized the Russians' sense of manhood.

The Empire kept intelligence assets on the ground and some not-for-profit groups dedicated their resources and funds to assisting the Persians but by-and-large, the Empire was apathetic to the "plight" of the Persian people. Instead, it deferred to the Amigardians whose keen interest in the region was far from coincidence and more out of circumstance. And now, while the world was so heavily focused on the Respublica Sinae and its voluntary dive into a maelstrom of internal destruction, the Middle East, particularly what remained of Persia, was suddenly and quite instantly forgotten about, not that it was ever that strong on anyone's mind anyway.

The Empire was heavily focused on Sinae as well and with military groups all around the world being pushed towards the Far East, it was doubtful anyone would notice the buildup of Amigardian forces in the Amigardian-Persian border regions. In fact, even the Empire's attention was so heavily turned to China that it barely noticed it at first and nearly let the whole thing slip through, a mistake no one would care to admit. However, just because the Empire saw what was happening and could reasonably predict the near future didn't mean it had any need to get involved. The Empire maintained its apathy towards the country and its people. Its island holdings in the Persian Gulf were thriving, economically speaking, and there was no threat posed to the Empire by the Persians, the Paixans, and certainly not the Amigardians. For all those reasons, the Empire merely passed off the situation as a would-be in a time when matters that were more important existed, chiefly the Respublica Sinae, and the Empire's continued game of chess with the Hi No Motons.

[Amigard]

Mature Content

August 17, 2012
Bokan, Iran
1630hrs

Squealing hinges filled Kayla with a sudden terror. She spent most of her days in constant fear but the sound of those hinges always made her heart pound in her chest and filled her mouth with cotton. It meant they were coming with a client to look over the girls, and within minutes one of them would be led away to satisfy some strange mans unholy desires.

The first time it had happened to Kayla was two weeks after her capture. The little man they had dealt with at the Vahdat Complex had presented himself at the small cramped cell where she was being held with several other girls, some no older than twelve or thirteen. No one knew his real name; everyone simply called him Little Man, although never to his face. To his face you called him Mr. Q or else you got beat.

Two armed guards had escorted her out of her small cell and into a larger cell filled with several more women. These women were ready for sale, and after two weeks of daily beatings, sleep deprivation, and other forms of humiliation Mr. Q had decided that Kayla had been broken down enough and that he had driven all hope of escape from her. He was right. Kayla had resisted for several days and had fought against her captors aggressively only to be beaten and tortured repeatedly.

On one occasion after spitting in Mr. Q’s face she was dragged down to what looked like a dirty unkempt clinic. There was steel operating table of some sort positioned in the middle of the room with a large operating room lamp looming over it. A pair of men had roughly thrown her onto the table and forcefully removed her clothes. Kayla thought for sure that this was the moment that they finally raped her. They had not touched her in that way since her capture, but this was obviously the moment that this trend ended.

They did not rape her however; she was too valuable to allow the hired help to rape her. The first day she had undergone an invasive examination to determine that she was in fact a virgin. Once this had been verified Mr. Q had given very specific orders that she not be touched. With Kayla naked and spread out on the cold steel table an elderly woman had entered the room carrying a bag of horrors. Implements unfamiliar to Kayla but which she had no doubt were designed to inflict unimaginable pain.

The torture began with the elderly woman tearing out the thick patch of pubic hair a little at a time while Kayla wailed and struggled against the grip of the brutish men. Mr. Q said this had to be done because his clients tended to prefer women with no hair between their legs, and thanks to her attitude he was going to ensure the process was as painful as possible. Had she cooperated they would have used other, less painful methods, at least that’s what they told her. Kayla pleaded for the elderly woman to stop, begged her to have mercy as the blood began to form on her mound, but the woman said nothing; she was emotionless and silent as she methodically went about her work.

The hair having been removed, the elderly woman applied some form of poultice designed to prevent infection from setting in that stung intensely. Kayla thought the worst was over until Mr. Q presented a long iron rod with a metal Q at the end of it. Kayla struggled with a renewed strength as Mr. Q ignited a butane torch and slowly heated the Q until it was red hot. With a wicked smile Mr. Q thrust the rod between her legs; he preferred to personally brand his property. Kayla let out a blood curdling scream then passed out as the metal Q seared into the flesh of her mound.

Having been broken down and branded, Kayla was ready for the first client. He was a tall muscular man that had a deceptively gentle face. He wore a black tactical vest and had an AK-7 slung on his shoulder. Kayla imagined he was a mercenary of some sort. It was the first day she found herself in the “Pens” as the other women called them. The hinges had squealed and Mr. Q had entered the pens with the large man and then went through each girl giving the man a run down, tying his best to sell them, sometimes embellishing on the girls’ history and other times flat out lying about them. He didn’t lie much about Kayla though. He told the man she was Israeli, that she had been a student at one point, very smart, and that she had wound up as a relief worker. Most importantly, she was a virgin.

The man immediately picked her. She didn’t know how much he paid for her, but it had to have been significant from what she gathered by the smile on Mr. Q’s face as the man led her away to one of the rooms that had been set up for the girls to entertain the clients. The man was brutal and she was sure that he was going to end up killing her before it was done. The things she forced her to do seared into her memory and often surfaced in the middle of the night. She still had nightmares about it and often could do nothing but sob as she lay on the thin mattress that was provided for her to sleep on. The pain and humiliation afterwards was almost unbearable, but Mr. Q had not given her much time to recuperate.

By then she was used goods and fair game for all of his thugs. The women in the pens were not only sold to clients but were also used to reward Mr. Q’s employees. A man that brought in a particularly good haul was sometimes given an hour with a girl of his choice in lieu of cash payment and Kayla quickly found there was no shortage of thugs that had their eye on Kayla since her arrival.

The hinges squealed and Kayla cringed but dutifully stood and made her way to the center of the room where she lined up with the other girls. Mr. Q entered, but with no one in tow. Upon seeing this Kayla’s heart immediately sank and she fought back the tears that threatened to stream down her cheeks. When Mr. Q appeared alone it was usually because he wanted to satisfy his own wretched lust, which seemed to be unending. To make it worse, Kayla was his favorite, and he enjoyed her more than all the other women. He often told her this was because she had a spark in her, a flame that though it could be contained, could not be extinguished. He boasted about how he had contained it and reminded her frequently about the day of her capture; the day Rostami died.

Mr. Q walked up and down the line inspecting the girls telling this one to bathe, that one to fix her hair in a certain way. He stopped when he got to Kayla and smiled that sickening toothless smile. “My dear…” It was horrible, he was picking her again.

[Amigard]

September 1, 2012—2100hrs
Amigard City, Iraq Diocese

“You don’t have to go.” Dilay said, her eyes still red and puffy from crying. Ediz continued packing trying not to look at his wife for fear that he too would break down in tears.

“Yes I do” he said his own grief threatening to break through the tough exterior he had put up to insulate him from the pain of his decision.

“You can still back out. What about your family?”

“I am thinking about my family!” Ediz growled; anger was easier to deal with than grief “I’m thinking about if it was my family over there I would want someone to help, not just sit by and watch them starve or get butchered!”

“What do you think you, one man, can even hope to do about it!” A fresh tear began to fall down Dilay’s cheek.

Ediz stopped packing and looked at his wife, tears forming in his eyes despite his efforts to hold them back. Gently, he wiped the tear from his wife’s cheek with his thumb as he looked into her eyes, “It is what God has put in my heart my love…I have to follow it through to the end.” The anger was gone from his voice, replaced with a gentle compassion.

Dilay broke down, threw herself into Ediz’s arms, and began to sob again “I’m afraid something terrible will happen to you! Please don’t go!”

“God will watch out for me my love” tears began to roll down Ediz’s cheeks, “I’ll come back home, I promise…”

On August 22nd Ediz had seen on the news that a panel of inquisitors had determined that the situation in Iran had met the definitions in the Articles of Intervention and had approved the use of military force to bring stability and order back to what was left of Persia. The Theocracy was finally going to intervene in Persia, and Ediz had enlisted in the Amigard Army the next day. Thanks to his prior service in the Eurasian Army he would only be required to go through a two week refresher course before being assigned to a unit and deployed to Iran. Dilay had not taken the news well and couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing; she couldn’t understand how sitting at a desk crunching numbers while people suffered next door was unbearable to him. He had to be more directly involved, he had to feel like he was doing something real to help the people of Persia and the Army offered him that opportunity; to make a real difference in the world however slight it may be.

They had argued for hours when he’d first made the announcement. She called him selfish, told him that he was abandoning his family, and cried. She cried a lot, but eventually things calmed down and she seemed to accept the inevitable. The night before they had made love more passionately than they had in years, but tonight; the night before he would leave for Mosul to undergo his refresher training, she had reverted to angry denial and opposition.

The news networks were abuzz with reports of the Amigard military moving into Iran. Paratroopers had landed somewhere in the Markazi Province although there were few specifics on the news regarding exactly where the troops had landed or where they were going. Images of tanks and infantry fighting vehicles rolling down Iran Highway 26 mixed with F-22’s flying overhead or infantrymen packed into the back of deuce and a halfs dominated the television screens of Amigardians. There had been no fighting so far, no resistance to the presence of the Amigardians, but the operation had only just begun.

The city of Piranshahr had been quickly occupied and the news showed civilians along the streets warily eying the Amigard convoys as they rolled into town, but no one was shooting at the Amigardians…not yet anyway. In the south reports showed Amigard forces in control of the city of Ahvaz. The opening hours of Operation ADAS appeared to be quite and subdued but there were no guarantees that this trend would continue as Amigard forces pushed deeper into Iran.

[Layarteb]

OOC: Cleared this story involvement with Amigard. Feel free to throw in a few curveballs. I'll catch up pretty fast by the way.

February 18, 2012 - 09:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Tower of Luna - 117th Floor
(40°43'29.74" N, 73°59'52.12" W)

The Tower of Luna had become an iconic symbol of the Empire. In a city full of scrapers where the roofs of virtually every building was invisible from the ground, the Tower of Luna stood out all on its own. Standing 1,752 feet to the top of its spire and 1,500 feet to its roof, the 120-floor building took up an entire city block between West Houston (pronounced How-stin) Street and Prince Street and Mercer Street and Broadway in Lower Manhattan, with a footprint of nearly 90,000 square feet. It was placed there amidst the giant skyscrapers of the World Trade Center, a 7-building complex with the famous "Twin Towers." The tallest building there, 1 WTC had a spire that stretched up to 1,727 feet while its roof stopped at 1,368 feet. 2 WTC was equally as tall without the spire. It was also placed amongst the venerable and timeless, Empire State Building, perhaps the most gorgeous Art Deco building ever to be building, which stood 1,454 feet above the city to the top of its spire.

Built between 1981 and 1991, during an architectural renaissance of Layarteb City, the Tower of Luna was originally envisioned as a sort of "Disney World" in a single building. If the entire world were to disappear around the building, it would still function as if nothing happened. It had its own irrigation, its own security, a hospital wing, more stores than 5th Avenue, condominiums that were more expensive than rural mansions, and offices galore. The building was home to over five hundred companies, the most famous of these being Manchurian Global, which occupied two sections of the building from floor 99 to 118 and floor 60 to 68, twenty-eight floors in total. For the mega, multinational corporation, the Tower of Luna was its main headquarters and virtually 75% of its operations were run from the Tower of Luna.

Restaurants and observation decks took up the top two floors of the building and catered to some of the more exclusive clientele in Layarteb City. The executives of Manchurian Global were regulars and only several hours earlier, some of them had left a premier restaurant atop the building only to find themselves at an early morning meeting inside of the company's executive board room on the 117th floor. The top of discussion was a sensitive one, which was precisely why the meeting was being held in the executive board room, which was routinely swept for electronic listening devices and other "bugs." It was a sealed room that allowed no eavesdroppers outside to hear or see the happenings within its walls. Done more to prevent against industrial espionage than paranoia, the room was something reminiscent of a vault and despite the decorations, it still maintained a cold atmosphere.

Several executives, a few vice presidents, and a gaggle of men and women who had no earthly place in an executive board room crammed in for the nine o'clock meeting and watched as the doors slid shut behind them. Several green lights lit, signifying that the room was "secure" and that discussions could begin and the cue was not lost on the men and women inside of the boardroom.

"Good morning everyone, I apologize for the earliness of the meeting, this was the only time we were all free and the matter is of the utmost importance." A young man in his mid-30s said, beginning. A wedding ring on his left hand tapped against his coffee cup as he spoke. The ring meant nothing, his wife had long since left him and he wore it just for the "cover" it provided. "For those of you who are unfamiliar with me, I am Bruce Neilson, the senior director of our PMC division, which is headquartered in Rome." It was interesting to note that Manchurian Global's PMC or Private Military Contracting division wasn't headquartered in the Tower of Luna. That was because, pursuant to Layartebian law, no PMCs or mercenary organizations could base out of, on, or use Layartebian soil. The Emperor and the Ministry of Defense had a sour taste in their mouths when it came to mercenaries and contractors and the Empire, as a policy, did not use them in any way, shape, or form. That Manchurian Global was using them to guard the Suez Canal was more than a sour subject with the government. It was precisely why the Ministry of Defense had negotiated the use of two airfields in the Sinai Peninsula.

"Let's start with a brief history concerning Persia. Last summer, the Persian government entered into a contract with the terrorist organization Al Shams and gave them safe haven in its northwestern provinces. In October, Al Shams, along with special forces from the Persian government seized control of the Layartebian embassy in Tehran and held hostage a number of Layartebian diplomats. At the same time, Al Shams was able to detonate a dirty bomb in the Russian-Chechen city of Grozny, killing thousands.

"Military action was taken by both parties, the Empire in securing its embassy personnel and the Russians in a wanton and somewhat reckless slaughter of the Persian people. Further military action was taken by the Empire, specifically aimed at Al Shams and the Persian Gulf where the military seized Kharg Island, Kish Island, and various oil platforms, which have since been sold off to various companies. Manchurian Global owns one of these.

"Following the Persian War, the entire country was left desolate and in a state of terrible disrepair. For their part, the Empire was focused in its destruction against Al Shams and along the coast of the Persian Gulf. However, the Russians were not. They quite literally wiped some places off of the map and buried entire populations underneath rubble. The Paixan military, invading from the east, stopped midway across the country, owing to the level of destruction left in the wake of the Russian withdrawal.

"The western half of Iran is controlled by various competing warlords with little or no semblance of unified government from Tehran. Where the government still exists and is able to provide some influence is spotty and often these areas come under constant threat from warlords, many of whom are military officers who abandoned their posts following the Russian invasion. The Persian military was far from weak and inexperienced but matched against the Russians, with nobody in Tehran having their back, they stood no chance. Many of them chose to abandon their posts, with their men, in hopes of saving their families.

"As it stands, various NGOs, especially those from the Theocracy of Amigard and the Byzantine Hegemony, are stepping in to help abate this humanitarian crisis but let me be frank, this is a crisis beyond their control. Without direct annexation, no NGO can hope to save more than a handful of lives from the conditions that persist. The Romans, the Africans, even the Empire have no will to help the Persians and the Cottish are of the opinion that the Persians brought it upon themselves and deserve to suffer the consequences.

"Putting that aside, we have been contacted by six separate corporations for our assistance. The largest is Standard Oil, which owns several oil wells in the area around a city called Arak. This is about one hundred and fifty miles southwest of Tehran in the Markazi province. Two NGOs from the Empire, based in Ireland and Caracas, operating on a humanitarian mission in Bushehr have contacted us. The other three companies are oil and gas companies as well but are very small.

"The common bond between them is that they all require protection and they are all aware of the price. The Layartebian military will not be providing any assistance nor would we expect them to either. All six companies have significant assets and should those assets fall into the hands of warlords, they would suffer egregious, economic losses. The three smaller companies would fold if this was to happen and the personnel of the two NGOs would likely be kidnapped, ransomed, and/or killed. For the two NGOs and the three smaller companies, we could dispatch a small number of contractors, perhaps thirty to forty in total and that would suffice. Both NGOs are in the same area and the three smaller companies are not far away either. We believe that the NGOs chose that area for that specific reason but this is assumption.

"Pursuant to our SOPs, it will be necessary for a vote to take place before this deployment can happen and we are obligated by Layartebian law to inform both the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, despite their profound distaste for what we do.

"The deployment to Arak would have to be larger due to the area and the presence of more powerful and better-equipped warlords. We are looking at a deployment of two platoons for operations, one for base security and reinforcements, and a helicopter platoon. All-in-all, that's a fighting force of two hundred and forty-six. If we were to need fixed-wing aircraft we would have to add one hundred and sixty-two men to the deployment." That was a lot of information for the assembled men and women to digest but they had listened intently and the proposal had been laid out accordingly. If there was one guarantee, at least from the oil companies, money wouldn't be a problem so there was little resistance to entering into those contracts, especially that with Standard Oil, a gigantic powerhouse that had been around since the 1800s. It was one of the few corporations that the Republic did not break up during their anti-trust proceedings. That was something to be said about corruption in the Republic.

The biggest block came for the two NGOs. They were humanitarian organizations without much money and what money they did have went mostly to their aide supplies. Their staffers were all volunteers except for a handful of organizers but they didn't draw much in the way of salaries. Initially, the discussion rejected them simply because they didn't really have the "credit" that Manchurian Global required. Paying their contractors was a small fortune and while Standard Oil could afford it, the three smaller oil companies could if they pooled together, the NGOs could not. It wasn't until someone suggested asking legal to get involved that the discussion turned around. "We could check Layartebian law and see if there's a loophole." One of the vice presidents said. "Perhaps there's an allowance where if we were to help an organization on a humanitarian mission and the military is unwilling or unable to help, we could bill the government?"

"Follow up on that, if we can, we will." The discussion continued to other details but by the end of the hour-long meeting, the agreed upon action was to approve the four oil companies and check into the NGOs and Layartebian law. Now all that had to be done was the drawing up of the contracts, the initial payments, and the wire system with the various companies to ensure timely and reconcilable payment.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Just one year earlier, the city of Arak, the capital of Persia's Markazi Province, was home to five hundred thousand men, women, and children. It had multiple historic buildings that could be traced back centuries ago. Surrounded by mountains to the south, west, and east, the populace probably thought that they were safe and that sense of safety had always been with the residents of this city, despite being close to both Qom and Isfahan, both of which were extremely important cities, both militarily and politically. It's one hundred and sixty mile distance from Tehran probably added to this naïve sense of invulnerability as well as the average height of the city, which was about 5,750 feet above sea level. Arak was a city that experienced warm and dry summers, windy and cool autumns, cold and snowy winters, and mild springs with most of its precipitation coming between October and May, January and March being the heaviest months.

When the Russians invaded the country, the residents of Arak didn't run. They remained in their sleepy city intending to wait the war out and go on with their lives afterwards. That lasted about four days. The Russians were so focused on the major, military targets and cities that they virtually forgot about Arak until somewhere, deep in a military bunker, someone pointed out that Arak had not been bombed. Militarily, the city had little to no value except if one were invading and hoping to hold the city in an effort to control a major resupply route to Qom. The Russians, on the other hand, had no such plans but saw the city as a target anyway.

Shortly before dawn on the fifth day of the war, a wave of Russian Tu-22M-3 Backfire-C bombers, six aircraft in total, carrying sixty-nine FAB-250 bombs each descended upon the city from the north. Surface-to-air defenses had already been swept aside and the functionality of Persia's radar network was beyond questionable. The residents of Arak thus had no warning. No air raid sirens sounded, not even after the first bombs began to land.

The initial wave of bombers put one quarter of a million pounds of bombs into the city, striking six, critical points. The destruction was catastrophic but it would have been repairable, had that been all that was to come. For two hours, the city existed in a quiet stupor as residents tried to pick through the rubble to find survivors. Then the second wave came, which consisted of Su-24M-2 Fencer-D fighter-bombers, Su-25TM Frogfoot ground-attack fighters, and more Tu-22M-3 Backfire-C bombers. For eight more hours, waves of aircraft bombed the city into smithereens leaving its entire commercial district in ruins, its roads cratered, and its communications shredded. Luckily, this was all the bombing that Arak was to see during the war except this one day of bombing brought with it nearly one hundred thousand casualties. Tens of thousands were injured critically without the ability to get to any hospitals in the city.

By the end of the war, the city's population dwindled to just fifty thousand. Those not killed or severely injured became refugees, heading southward to the cities of Golpayegan and Najafabad only to find that neither city was spared either. To this day, the city remained in ruins, a former shell of what it had once been. Those who remained in the city were the few who still had their homes, who still had running water, who still had some semblance of life. Spared from destruction for whatever reason, an oil refinery and various oil pumping stations, none of which were owned by the Persian government or by a Persian company, remained intact and working, despite the logistical problems the Russian campaign brought. However, in early March 2012, the population of the city increased ever so slightly as a core force of "contractors" from Manchurian Global's Private Military Contracting Division descended upon and took over the city's battered and shattered airport, just sixteen klicks from the center of the ruined, scarred city. Throughout the month, the contractors worked to repair the airport to a level where it could be usable and by early April, they were done. Armored vehicles were flown in, supplies were flown in, and camouflaged men in body armor, sunglasses, and t-shirts appeared in the streets of the city, rolling around to protect their clients' assets, chiefly Standard Oil's refinery and the various oil pumping stations. By proxy, simply because of last minute negotiations and proximity, they were also protecting the humanitarian station as well, splitting the cost with the government thanks to a loophole in the law, a loophole, which would be forever closed afterwards.

Arak itself wasn't under the thumb of any warlord, making the contractors' jobs easier but it wasn't removed from the influence of warlords who sent their roving bands of marauders into the city to loot, kidnap, and kill. Of course, those warlords weren't too far away either. One particular group was based to the southwest, in the city of Shazand. Another was to the south, in the city of Khomeyn. A third and particularly irritating group was to the northeast, near the city of Ashtian. The PMC's introduction would definitely change the balance of power in the small region and ignite plenty of fires.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

April 20, 2012 - 04:00 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Arak, Iran
Arak Airport
(34° 8'14.08" N, 49°50'35.58" E)

Michael was part of a five-man squad assigned to base defense. A former Layartebian paratrooper, Michael had hated pulling watch duty when he was in the military and he still hated it now, even though his salary was double what it once was. Armed with a K274 Overwatch assault rifle, rechambered to the same 6.7x35mm CTA round that the rest of their weaponry used, Michael fought off the urge to light and smoke a cigarette. He was trying to quit, or rather, he was trying to listen to his wife, who nagged him more about his smoking than the three months he spent on tour for Manchurian Global. He wondered if she was having an affair but such thoughts did not make for a sound mind when pulling guard duty and he did his best to wipe them clean from his mind and conscience.

The sky was dark, despite the approaching dawn. He shivered only slightly, not because it was cold but because he suddenly felt something in the air, something that attracted his attention from the north and to the east. It was a new moon so there was little to see, even with his night vision goggles. "Yo Rick, come over here," Michael said, turning his gaze back just for a second to his snoozing partner. They were both atop a watchtower and Rick had the big gun, the ADEC light machine gun. They alternated watches but something just didn't seem right about this.

"What man…" Rick, a former Layartebian Marine and police officer, said, grumbling as he opened his eyes. "You couldn't wait until the sun came up?"

"Put on your goggles, I think someone's out there."

"Where?" Rick shot to attention, put on his NVGs, and joined Michael near the edge of the tower.

They didn't point, that would have been a dead giveaway, and they put their hands over their mouths, a trick they had both learned early on in their military careers. "Out there, by that boulder, what is that, two hundred meters away? I think there's someone there. I thought that I saw something move."

"Man, it's probably just an animal."

"No, it didn't move quickly enough."

"What are we going to do, send a patrol over there?"

"Or a flare maybe."

"Flare? That'll wake up half the base. You'd better be right."

"Let's see if I can even hit it." Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out an illumination round for his 40-millimeter grenade launcher. Popping out the high explosive round that was already in there, he placed it into his other pocket with two other rounds. He carried three of each on night watches. Michael took aim with the weapon and began to draw in his sights when a sharp crack filled the air, immediately sending both of them to the floor of the tower, behind its small, sandbagged ledge.

It had been the unmistakable crack of a missed rifle shot, fired obviously by someone with a flash suppressor since there had not been a muzzle flash. "Holy shit!" Rick said as he felt over himself. "You hit?"

"No, no I don't think so," Michael was checking himself as well. He swapped his round for the 40-millimeter high explosive round and checked his sights. "I told you there was a fucker there. He probably thought that we were going to grenade him."

"Well now we are; suppressive fire?"

"Call it in first." As Rick did, Michael began to slow his breathing, even though his heart was racing.

"A patrol's going out but we better hit it first," Rick replied.

"On three, lay down a quick burst against the rock and I'll put one right behind it."

"Okay," they both began to count and then, on cue, they popped up and fired. Michael's round thumped out of the gun, and it twisted through the air, landing just behind the boulder, to the left. The explosive lit up the entire area and when the roar settled, they could hear screaming. Quickly, Michael reloaded and both of them looked out at the expanse before them, wondering how many more enemies were out there, lying unseen and hidden in the dark.

[Byzantium Imperium]

(OOC: Seeing as how I can't do an 'lol I win' sort of thing ever...I realize this is late, and very subpar; as I get back into the swing which ought to be my next post; things will be better and far more detailed.)

Persia - West Azerbaijan
September 1st - 2012


There is and always a simple thought to large groups of people that consider themselves nations; even when the governments are inefficient or dissolved; they will not be ruled by foreigners without the spilling of foreign blood for their pure crass. The thought occurred to the Turks; even as the Turkish 4th Army crossed the border into Northern Iran that they would be facing resistance; and it would not be what they were used to; no true armies, no distinguishable lines in the sand; rather some combination of nefarious and less than honorable operations of arms against them from the citizenry and occasional soldiery.

No one expected it to be easy, even as in the pre-dawn, Turkish F-16Cs penetrated Persian air space along with Mil Mi-26 'Halo' heavy lift-transports filled to their monstrous capacity with Turkish troops. While on the ground came the forces of the 4th Army, their M1A2 tanks spearheading the charge into the shattered and broken ruins that were once a nation alongside transports carrying literal thousands of Turks; much to the yet to be seen chagrin of the Persian people.


The townships and cities that had been partially restored by the Turkish Army Corps of Engineers were the first to be 'occupied' in a loose sense, as the humanitarially minded engineers and medics continued their assigned duties given to them down the chain of command; that being to assist the Persian people to the absolute best of their ability. While lightly armed and hardly ready for fighting, it was more than likely these humanitarian camps would be the first to be fired upon in any event of assault by the broken (and if Turkish Army Intelligence was correct) rapidly unifying remnants of the Persian Army; they had just invaded their nation after all. For now, however; in these earliest of hours, all was quiet.

[Layarteb]

August 7, 2012 - 23:15 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Arak, Iran
Arak Airport
(34° 8'14.08" N, 49°50'35.58" E)

Life in Persia was initially quite exciting as probing attacks by unknown and unidentified parties tested the boundaries of Manchurian Global's PMC units. Attacks were initiated by fewer than four assaulters and they often chose the darkest hours of the night to launch their attempts against the airport in Arak and against nighttime convoys. By June, those attacks seemed to peter out quite rapidly and throughout the month of July, there were only three probing attacks, all by two-man teams. The contractors working for Manchurian Global found their enemy to be ambitious, careless, and unmotivated, to say the least. They were expecting an organized enemy with combat experience, self-determination, and discipline. Perhaps they had set their sights too high or perhaps, just maybe, the enemy was leading them into a false sense of security, breeding complacency amongst the contractors.

On August 1, that seemed to be the case when two contractors were fired for sleeping on their watch, both of them in the same watchtower. They had only been discovered because the project's lead had been touring the towers earlier in the day and misplaced his "lucky pen." Assured that the incident was limited just to these two contractors, the project manager returned to his own complacent feelings, unaware that on this particular night, not only had the two contractors he fired been sleeping but so too were nine others, six of whom were more than ten feet from their weapons.

Such behavior wasn't what one would expect out of these contractors. The vast majority of them were retired special forces soldiers. Few were your average grunt and they came from all over the world. In the single deployment to Arak, Manchurian Global was able to claim truthfully that nineteen countries were represented by what they called a "Multinational Peacekeeping Force of Volunteers" or MPFV for short. The men on the ground found the PR a bit unsettling as it drew attention to their deployment but for Manchurian Global, given the strict and immovable opposition of the Empire to PMCs, this deployment was a marketing gold mine but only if it was a success. Touting the international representation, the ethnic diversity, the training levels of these men, and their willingness to do a "charitable" deed by protecting the aide group without charging said group, Manchurian Global began an aggressive, foreign marketing campaign aimed mainly at smaller, underequipped nations of Earth.

Back at home, the Ministry of Justice, which was charged with watching Manchurian Global's PMC very closely took note and tuned its ears to the world, looking not at who was receiving MG's message but who was responding.

Mercenaries were nothing new to the world of warfare. Numerous military and political theorists throughout time have warned against them, especially Machiavelli who cautioned very strongly against their use. Despite that, most of the developed world had little exposure to what mercenaries did or what they were capable of beyond perhaps a random story here or there in the news or an exposé in some magazine. Ethiopia really brought mercenaries to light but even then, the light was so bad that the PMCs of the world spent a lot of money trying to prove to everyone that they were different. PMCs, as far as they were concerned, were providing an honorable service. Their "contractors" weren't mercenaries because they were reliable, trained professionals. They had a contract, with specific terms, and they were paid a set price. They didn't switch sides during battle and they didn't use violence to renegotiate terms. After all, corporate practices were far more "civilized," or so they say.

To Manchurian Global, this mission into Persia was a chance and an opportunity to show the world the legitimacy of using PMCs. They envisioned a future where nations could cut their defense budgets, instead spending less money by hiring contractors, not having to worry about benefits, uprisings, equipment development, et cetera. It was an ambitious future and one that, if the Emperor had anything to do with it, would never happen. But, then again, the Empire wasn't involved in Persia anymore. They had brought their destruction and left, claiming only three, meager islands for themselves.

The events of August 1, if anything, should have provided a warning to Manchurian Global. August 2 saw an organized but unsuccessful, daytime assault on a convoy moving from the airport to the oil refinery. Two corporate executives from Standard Oil had flown in to do a review of the facility and along the way; ten hostiles assaulted the convoy, trying to lead it into an ambush. The contractors were able to fend off the attack and carry on with their day. Despite the praising of skill, the true reason the attack was unsuccessful simply dealt with "luck." The hostiles didn't have the right kind.

On August 4, two hostiles attempted to penetrate the airport's perimeter during the night but a vigilante watchman with a K-9 unit managed to scare them off, unable to successfully engage them with his rifle due to a successful use of cover by the hostiles. Still unidentified, it wasn't until this particular attack that the intelligence deployment really sought to get answers to the many questions as to who was attacking them. Until now, the intelligence personnel saw the problem more as a nuisance than as a viable threat. Again, the overconfidence was startling. On August 7, the humidity was low, the sky was clear, the temperature was in the 80s and 90s but comfortable, and the sun set at 20:05 hours, local time. The new moon was ten days away so the night was clear and it was bright.

Watchmen were in their positions, most of them relaxing rather than paying some sort of strict attention to the perimeter. Of all of the nights, tonight was not going to be the night to do such a thing. Not long after the sun had set, a group of one hundred hostiles, all belonging to a single "warlord army" began to sneak into position. Dressed in black and camouflage to hide them in the darkness of the night, they moved slowly into a position on the eastern perimeter of the airport. They crawled and kept low, behind cover whenever they could, their eyes on the towers, night vision goggles on many of them. Their hardware and equipment had been pilfered from the Persian Army before it folded amidst the Russian and Layartebian attacks.

By 23:15 hours, the enemy force had closed to within an astounding one hundred meters of the perimeter. Fearing moving any closer without alarm, the commanders in charge ordered a halt and passed the word through the ranks, "Five minutes." While they waited, four men with RPG-7 rocket launchers, who had been near the front, crawled into positions and aimed at the two watchtowers, two RPG-7s per tower. They kept low and concealed. The various probing attacks throughout the months had all been for reconnaissance purposes. The enemy knew the layout of the airport, they knew the perimeter, where the weaknesses were, and they knew where the cover was. They had been planning this assault for some time now, rehearsing it even, and doing the same thing that the PMC contractors would have done had they been back in the military. Five minutes to them, just like every soldier, seemed like an eternity but when it was over, the sky opened up and Hell followed with it.

The four RPG-7 rockets lit, fired, and functioned normally. RPG-7 rockets sometimes failed to ignite or failed to deploy their stabilizing fins properly but that wasn't the case now. All four rockets with their HEAT warheads tracked right to the tops of the towers and all four were aimed correctly. The explosions completely rocked the airport's perimeter, awakening everyone who should have been awake and even those who should have been sleeping. The thunderclap that followed left both towers neutralized and on top of that, four contractors dead, having been peppered with shrapnel and killed from the explosive force of the rockets' warheads.

The situation went from quiet to critical in a matter of seconds as the enemy force advanced into the perimeter, clipping their way through the chain-link fence with a pair of bolt cutters. From that point on, they were "inside of the wire." They quickly used the towers as cover and other objects placed around to assist the contractors in defending the airport.

[Amigard]

October 2, 2012—1300hrs
Pa’in, Iran
36°39'14.18"N 45°50'3.03"E

Ediz was not a young man anymore, and his whole body seemed to ache. The two week refresher course the Army had sent him to had been physically demanding but the daily treks through the mountains were brutal. Every day was more of the same: wake up, equipment check, PT, breakfast, and then a helicopter ride out to some God forsaken wasteland in the middle of nowhere to check on some sort of activity or to escort relief supplies to one of the outlying areas. Most of the time they found nothing, or next to nothing.

Ediz had arrived in Mahabad Iran on September 18th, the same day that a young private was killed when his convoy was hit by a roadside bomb along Highway 26 near Mahabad. Ediz had called home later that evening to find his wife frantic and nearly inconsolable. The young man’s death was all over the news, and the manner of his death was proof to some that Iran was not going to be an easy occupation. Many political and military analysts were talking about the calm before the storm and fully anticipated a full scale insurgency would soon emerge resulting in many more Amigardians being killed or wounded before the campaign was done.

Further east it wasn’t a question of insurgency but of active resistance. Though the 3rd Airborne Division ha d not faced any initial resistance things changed quickly when the 3rd found itself under near constant guerilla attacks in and around Saveh. The AESS quickly determined that the enemy forces were likely under the banner of a former Persian General named Behruz Alinejad. Alinejad had once commanded the Persians 7th Infantry Division and had used his position after the fall of the Persian government to solidify his hold throughout much of the northern areas of the Markazi Province. Attempts by the AESS and the Amigard Ministry of Foreign Affairs at brokering a deal with the general had failed miserably and Alinejad had made it clear that he would resist any Amigardian occupation of Iran.

It was clear that Alinejad was not foolish enough to believe that he could take on the Amigard Army in a conventional war and it was also clear that the attacks had been little more than probing attacks up to this point, testing the Amigard positions and capabilities. On September 15th elements of the 3rd Airborne had assaulted the Kaveh Industrial City five miles northeast of Saveh after receiving information that Alinejad was in the city and preparing for an attack. Amigard troops saturated the area only to find Alinejad was not there, only a pair of snipers in an abandoned warehouse near the center of the city that managed to kill three Amigard soldiers and wound five others before being killed themselves.

In the south the 11th Infantry Division had essentially secured the Khuzestan Province and Amigard officials were working with local leaders there to bring relief to the region. There had been no attacks on the 11th Infantry but tensions were high as the Persians adapted to the presence of Amigard military personnel. The a relatively intact infrastructure and the presence of a functioning local government went a long way in restoring order and distributing much needed humanitarian aid. The Amigard military was not needed to act as a police force and could focus instead on escorting relief supplies and assisting local reconstruction efforts.

But in Ediz’s neck of the woods a great deal of infrastructure had been destroyed. The 10th Infantry had pushed east along Highway 26 into Mahabad and had secured the area. A brigade of Army Engineers had soon followed and began to go to work restoring services, focusing priority on providing potable water. The 10th had arrived in Mahabad on September 10th and the attacks began the next day, mostly guerilla style attacks on convoys or IED’s.

Efforts were begun to locate the source of the attacks but this often meant sending patrols to outlying villages and towns or what was left of them. So Ediz found himself in the small village of Pa’in approximately ten miles southeast of Mahabad standing near the center of the village while his platoon leader spoke with a group of the village elders. From what Ediz could gather the elders were telling the LT that they knew nothing about attacks on Amigard convoys and that there had been no new faces in the area. No one had come to them asking for shelter.

Ediz helped offload crates of supplies from a UH-60 helicopter and distributed them to the small crowd that had gathered. Many of the villagers were wary. Ediz smiled as he handed out rations and clothing and occasionally one of the villagers would smile back but for the most part they still approached soldiers with caution. Pa’in had not been bombed during the Russian invasion of Persia since there wasn’t much of value there to bomb, but soldiers were not a common sight here.

“Alright we might have a lead” the LT had approached as Ediz handed out the last of the supplies. The platoon gathered around as the LT spoke with the platoon sergeants.

“About twenty miles southeast of here there’s the remains of a small city named Bokan. Sometimes the locals have to go there for supplies. They say that there are some pretty undesirable characters in the area and they may know more about why relief supplies haven’t been making it to their destinations…said to check out a place called Vahdat or something like that. Lets get everything packed up and get ready to head back to base. We’ll report this and see about heading that way tomorrow.”

[Layarteb]

August 7, 2012 - 23:35 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Arak, Iran
Arak Airport
(34° 8'14.08" N, 49°50'35.58" E)

With casualties to tend to and an enemy force still pursuing their objectives at the airport, whatever those might be, the contractors from Manchurian Global broke out the light armor and began to advance forward with reinforcements tucked safely away inside of the safety of the metal beasts. Heavy machine guns, trained via remote with night vision and thermal optics, pushed up from the runway and saw nothing but a blur of heat to the east. Intermixed were friendly and hostile forces and there was no way to tell with thermal optics but the contractors were hungry for revenge. Patience wasn't necessarily a virtue that many of them cared for right now as they closed closer and closer to the hostiles. Radio calls went out to the various channels telling all contractors to turn on their IFF strobes, which were nothing more than infrared strobes, which would identify them as friendly amidst a sea of foes.

All around the perimeter, strobes began to flash and though it was helpful, not everyone's strobe was working, they soon found out and though unable to see the strobes with their naked eyes, they quickly realized something was amiss when heavy rounds began to thud around them. Two contractors were ripped in half by accurate and well-placed shots, dead before their torsos struck the ground. Two others were mortally wounded right away, one losing an arm, the other half of his leg. Three others ducked for cover and managed to get down and away from the incoming fire, which shifted and concentrated now on the blur of heat to the east.

It became, in every manner of the work, a turkey shoot. The hostile forces remained out of RPG range and exposed. Heavy machine gun fire concentrated on them, sweeping from side-to-side, massacring them left and right. Those who tried to turn and run were just caught in the crossfire and torn to pieces by either their own compatriots or the incoming machine gun fire. It was all over in less than ten more minutes and the thudding of heavy machine gun fire echoed all around Arak, awaking even the dead of the city. It was a new sound, something that the city's residents weren't accustomed to hearing, especially at this late hour of the night.

Shortly after midnight, the last rounds were fired and all contractors were ordered to cease-fire. Men emerged from their foxholes and from behind cover, some aware that their IR strobes had never functioned. Damage assessment began almost immediately and the contractors noted that they lost not only two watchtowers but also seventeen of their own, six to friendly fire. The enemy, on the other hand, suffered staggeringly higher losses with ninety-two killed and eight wounded and subsequently captured. That accounted for the entire one-hundred-man force.

Despite the staggering losses that the enemy faced, the contractors felt a rage unbeknownst to them before. Their "crystal palace" at Arak Airport had been besieged by an enemy force and though they were successful only in destroying two measly guard towers and killing eleven contractors, it was as if they had burned the entire airport to the ground. Revenge was guaranteed and from the way that the contractor's talked, revenge was going to be so swift, so severe, and so lopsided that the enemy would never again think to even come near Arak Airport again.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

August 8, 2012 - 05:30 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Arak, Iran
Shahr-e Sanati District
(34° 4' 22.014" N, 49° 43' 21.25" E)

The sun was just rising over Arak and the night's gunfire remained a distance memory, lingering on few of the residents' minds. If they had any clue what was about to befall them, they would have perhaps fled the previous night but they didn't and now fate wasn't on their side as light armored vehicles entered the city and made their way to a southern district called Shahr-e Sanati. This small district was just south of the Ayatollah Araki Boulevard and north of Highway 56. It was a quiet, sleepy district that had little in the way of personal defenses against warlords, never mind the contractors from Manchurian Global who arrived in two Boxer MRAV armored personnel carriers and four Cougar H armored trucks. In all, that was thirty-six men, armed to the teeth with assault rifles, shotguns, and light machine guns, a miniscule number considering that they had little to no opposition to face.

Interrogation of two of the captives revealed the name Anwar. He had no last name and the contractors believed Anwar to be an alias. They had a loose description too. He was about 5'10" tall, slender, and skinny, he did not have a lot of muscle on his body, but he was not scraggily. He had short, black, curly hair and no beard. He was young, in his mid-20s and he lived with his wife and children in an apartment in a building at the southern end of Pamchal Street. Manchurian's deployment to Arak included four intelligence specialists, two of whom were skilled in the art of torture and though torture rarely bred viable information, this time it did but the information was too vague. That didn't stop the contractors though, who had two buildings to search, both of which were populated mostly by families.

Rolling into the district, the vehicles were full of tense, vengeful contractors who would play more of a mercenary than a soldier role in this upcoming operation. Grenades hung from their chests as they checked their ammunition and they had taken enough with them to shoot up the entire district and then some. Adding to their commitment of forces to this operation was a small aviation unit consisting of two AH-6M Little Birds armed with Miniguns and two Bell 412EP utility helicopters with an additional twenty men in two, 10-man squads for reinforcements. Holding at the airport on short notice, they would take off immediately upon request, arriving on scene in the district in minutes.

The convoy of vehicles entered the district with impunity and moved quickly down the rather empty but not necessarily abandoned street towards their two, target buildings. Residents awake and able to see this happening were paralyzed with awe, unaware of what was about to unfold on their street. They knew that the "whites" from the West had set up shop in Arak and they had seen them intermittently around the area, mostly transporting people to and from the airport and the oil refineries. However, they had never seen them this deep into the city before. They have never seen them off of the main thoroughfares, which was one or two large boulevards. By design, these small, narrower streets and avenues afforded virtually no protection and were easy places to set up ambushes. For security purposes, avoiding ambush locations was required.

They being this deep into the city meant that they had a purpose to be here and that purpose was lost on everyone watching the vehicles and the heavy weaponry atop them, which traversed back and forth, looking for targets. Sometimes the dark gray barrels of the weapons would point at them and inside, the gunner would whisper to himself, "Boom you camel jockey fuck!" Racism was rampant on both sides of the turret so to chastise the gunners was quite hypocritical. The biggest flaw here was the assumption that these vehicles and these men had any connection whatsoever to the Empire. These were men acting on their own without approval or sanctioning from the Empire. Their bosses in Egypt found a loophole in Layartebian law, a loophole that was now closed and they took every advantage of it while they could. In truth, the Ministry of Intelligence and the Ministry of Defense were both keeping very close and personal tabs on the contractors and what those contractors did. It was just reaching the desks of the appropriate Ministers now that Arak Airport had come under siege the previous night.

With a squeal and a screech, the vehicles came to a halt outside of the appropriate buildings. The Cougars were in the middle of the procession with the Boxers taking up the front and the rear. They were better equipped to deal with incoming RPGs and IEDs than the Cougars were. Doors opened, ramps lowered, and twenty-five contractors spilled out of the vehicles, leaving eleven behind to keep security and operate the vehicles' heavy weaponry. If an enemy force of any size attempted to ambush the convoy, they were going to be in real trouble as 40-millimeter grenades and 15.5-millimeter HMG fire raked them into defeat with rapid persistence.

The twenty-five men, arranged in five maneuver squads stacked up against the doorways. One building would get fifteen men while the other, the smaller of the two, received just ten. Since either building did not have many apartments, the contractors didn't expect a prolonged operation. They would hit two or three apartments at once, with four men assaulting into the apartment and the fifth remaining outside for rear security. Carrying with them sledgehammers, the point man in both groups of men burst through the lock on the exterior door and into the buildings, the twenty-five men went. The point man in each squad had a sledgehammer that he would use to break the locks on every door they entered that morning.

[Byzantium Imperium]

Persia - East Azerbaijan - Ajab Shir
September 21st - 2012
Turkish 4th Army - Lieutenant Mahfouz Peynirci

The Turkish Army had pressed with no amount of ease through Western Azerbaijan in the majority of the month of September, they were spared no lack of effort from the Persians to 'welcome' them into their broken nation; a sudden flurry of absolutely staunch resistance be it linear and symmetrical or nonlinear and asymmetrical in design. A near constant barrage of small arms and light mortar fire harassed them day and night with no pause for the weary soldiers of the Fourth or any Turkish unit in the country that was proving wrecked or not, they were still fiercely independent.

West Azerbaijan itself had been pacified "easily" due to the presence of Turkish aid prior to the invasion (with no effort allotted to calling it 'liberation') combined with surviving local leaders and a sense of unity that wasn't found here in East Azerbaijan. Easily in the sense causalities did not mount into excessively high numbers; though some one hundred twenty Turkish soldiers had died, and there had been the loss of a supply convoy to asymmetrical ambush as well as the rather nice obliteration of an M1A2 to an IED that consisted little more than C-4 blocks stacked on top of an artillery shell that gutted the tank when it rolled alongside it.

Here it was more symmetrical; at least in the mind of Lieutenant Mahfouz Peynirci; a stout man in his mid 30s who commanded on the front, and there was a front to speak of. There weren't infantry divisions in number or MBTs raining hell down on them but there was a concentrated militia that met them in field with the same training and tenacity that an army could expect; leading Peynirci to deduce they were what remained of Persia's once proud fanatical legions before the Russians had bore down on them in their genocidal rampage. The militias he noted were well supported by the locals and their own internal organs to such a point that he dared to call them an army; so answered by the fact they had artillery support in the form of mortars and other such light implements that did their fair share of harm on Peynirci's troops.

At the exact moment they were in the center of a rather heated three directional firefight with that miltia; minimal cover was granted to the Turks in the form of shattered Jersey Wall-esque structures that lined the remnants of the road; along with a burned out vehicle that by the looks of it had been that way for a while. A collection of arms fire rose up from both sides on a semi-continuous basis the iconic rattle of the Kalashnikov family of rifles coming from both the Turks and the Persians. Heavier sounds came from machine guns such as the PKP MG from the Turks and the older but still serviceable and equally deadly PKM from the Persians.

Moments of fighting like this were rare in wartime, most of war consisted of maneuvering, moving and long quiet days at war with nothing in sight or sound of anyone, a graceful thing really; that many would never see this moment, many more would never die because of moments like this one, which in two short seconds had claimed the lives of two Persians and another Turkish soldier; bringing the death toll for the Turks up; there was little doubt that this would become an elongated affair even after this main phase, the Turkish Army in oversight expected a full-on insurgency after they "won" and had little doubt if it were strong enough they would be leaving with their tails between their legs but for the time being; they fought on.

Lt. Peynirci noted as his man went down it was officially time to end the stiff resistance his and his men's ongoing efforts were against in this particular quarter of Ajab Shir; the only city in this county of East Azerbaijan. Near immediately after pulling his MP-443 "Grach" sidearm (his rifle having been empty for some time) he practically crawled to his radio-operator who was thankfully still alive. "Yeah, I know, air support is tied down but you'd best to get us something down on these positions, we're not rooting them out on our own this time!" Peynirci had a powerful gruff voice that boomed but could barely be heard with the sounds of the ongoing fighting, the radioman ducked down from his firing position and nodded. "I'll work on it!" He responded simply before getting onto the communications device in effort to contact command.

"Lie if you have to!" Peynirci yelled as he let off a few randomly placed shots in the general direction of the enemy. Lie the radioman did, concocting some great story at how their lines were about to break and they were nearly out of ammunition; the second part of which was true; and how they needed immediate support or they'd be overrun. While the platoon couldn't hear the monolithic roars of the distant howitzers of the 118th Artillery Brigade; the saw the effects of their desperate lies about an extenuated forty five or so seconds later when great explosions plowed through buildings that the Persians were holed up in as well as decimating cover in the open; there were screams of agony that Peynirci in the back of his mind had no doubt would wake him in the night many years from now as men died wholesale; either eviscerated, stung by shrapnel from buildings or crushed to death when already weak building facades fell down upon them.

It lasted only two volleys and then stopped; an eerie silence fell over the field as the Turks dared to come out of their own cover, all was quiet as they checked their weapons and regrouped, some victories; as would later be written in Peynirci's memoirs; weren't worth the cost paid for them. Maybe not good men had died that day; in that moment, but staunchly brave men, men who were willing and did kill and die for their families and nation did die and that was; in his opinion at least; depressing.

[Layarteb]

August 8, 2012 - 05:45 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Arak, Iran
Shahr-e Sanati District
(34° 4' 22.014" N, 49° 43' 21.25" E)

The dull echo of a door crashing against the hall wasn't nearly as loud as everyone expected. As such, the only people summoned from their sleep due to the noise were just next to the front door. The echo of the door slamming into the wall filled their apartment and awoke the man of the household and his wife. Their infant son, just eight weeks old, managed by some manner of miracle continued to sleep. This was their first night sleeping though and what a night it was going to be as, within seconds of the noise, their front door exploded inward, bending on its hinges. The noise caused the woman to let out a shriek, instantly waking the baby. The piercing scream filled the apartment as four mercenaries entered, weapons drawn, screaming commands as they pounced on the man, throwing him to the ground, putting a knee in him.

All throughout the buildings, the same thing was happening as mercenaries from Manchurian Global pushed the various men into the ground, slammed them into submission, and barked orders at them. Questions were thrown at them with ire and malice. When the men resisted or gave an answer the mercenaries didn't like, the physical abuse began. Punches were thrown, ribs were pounded on, butt stocks of rifles were swung, and several of them were smacked with pistols. The abuse was not limited just to the men either. Plenty of women who defied some resistance took a butt stock to the stomach, often doubling them over in pain. As they collapsed to the ground, the mercenaries lifted them back into the air, usually by their hair. Children who tried to make some sort of stand were held at gunpoint while the mercenaries went throughout the various apartments of both of the buildings.

Two hours after the searches had begun, the mercenaries pulled out their first suspect, a man who strikingly fit one of the two descriptions. Bound, gagged, and with a hood over his head, he was escorted out of the first building and thrown into the back of one of the armored trucks where he smacked his head against part of the hull, putting him into a daze of sorts while the searches continued throughout the buildings. The mercenaries weren't going to be pleased until they got both of their targets. While women and men alike were cleaning blood from their carpets and their floors, humiliation and violation fell over them. The humiliation of being brutalized by these Layartebians and the violation that they felt from having their homes broken into by the very same mercenaries was beginning to sink in, even though the mercenaries were still conducting their apartment searches.

Just before ten, they found their second man. Stacked up against the door, the mercenaries prepared to make their entrance when the door burst open and a flash of light went off, from a Flashbang grenade. Obviously, he had plenty of time to prepare, especially since he was on one of the higher floors. Blinded and incapacitated, the mercenaries were left to stumble and struggle with their own balance while the man took off running down the stairs. He only got one floor before he saw more mercenaries. Opting for a different escape route, he dove through an open window, landing on the fire escape below. Calls and screams to stop him began to echo as men on the outside watched him drop down the fire escape. Several shots were fired, all above his head, just so that the ricochets would echo in his eardrums and the reality of the situation would make itself known.

Fearless, the man kept going, descending down to another level before jumping onto the rooftop of an adjacent building. In a cloud of dust, he kept running across the rooftop, heading away from the mercenary vehicles as more gunshots range about, cracking through the air around him. Still, he kept running and with such a good lead, one would think that he could get away but that was until the concussion of a 40-millimeter grenade knocked him off of the roof and onto the ground below. Crashing through an awning, he took a heavy spill and before he could get to his feet, mercenaries were standing over him with the business end of two shotguns and three assault rifles pointed right at his face. He didn't need to understand English to know what they wanted and to take heed of the orders they gave him.

Though injured, the man was fully mobile and thus he was instantly bounded, gagged, and hooded and by now, a growing crowd had appeared in the various windows around the street. The gunfire and commotion had alerted the entire district to the presence of the mercenaries and over a hundred people were there to see this unknown man dragged away, thrown into the back of an armored truck, and left there while the mercenaries consolidated their forces, pleased that they got the two men whom they sought. Calls were made and men assembled back at their vehicles, only to drive out just as nonchalantly as they had arrived. Weapons trained at the various windows as the vehicles departed the district and made their way back to the airport, where construction crews were already at work replacing the four guard towers by removing the mangled wreckage of the previously destroyed ones.

[Amigard]

October 30, 2012—0700hrs
Bokan, Iran
Mr. Q’s residence

When the messenger arrived to inform Mr. Q. that a flight of UH-60 helicopters bearing the Amigard flag were approaching Bokan he almost ordered his men to open fire on them with FIM-92 Stinger missiles. After giving it some thought, however, Mr. Q. had decided to take another route with the Amigardians. Rather than actively resisting he ordered his men to assist the Amigardians in their operations and he met with the lieutenant that led the platoon of soldiers. The theocrats promised to help rebuild the city and if Mr. Q played his cards right he could be at the center of that reconstruction putting his fingers into everything. He could garner more power than he’d ever had as the proprietor of this small black market operation.

Though he was forced to hide some of his operations, particularly his prostitution and drug trafficking businesses, it wasn’t that difficult to do and he found that many of the Amigardian leaders were more than willing to look the other way in exchange for his cooperation. The truth was that if Amigard was looking for saints in Persia to assist them in rebuilding the country out of the goodness of their hearts, they were going to be sorely disappointed, and they knew it. So Amigard forces would have to put up with a few lesser evils in order to accomplish the greater good, for time being anyway. At least Mr. Q imagined this was the rationalization the Amigardians used to justify cooperation with people that were often less than desirable.

Mr. Q was providing the Amigardians with valuable information on certain “freedom fighters” he was aware of and his information led to the arrest of several insurgents. Granted he continued to fund and arm the insurgents as well, but the Amigardians didn’t need to know that. He gave both sides just enough to stay in their good graces.

Pulling himself out of bed Mr. Q glanced back at the naked body of the young girl that lay there her chest gently rising and falling as she slept. He had been somewhat disappointed by the girls lackluster performance last night and made a mental note to assign her to “guard duty.” Dressing in one of his nicer three piece suits he left his bed chamber and motioned to the guard standing outside of the door to get rid of the girl. Some private contractors from Amigard were set to arrive in the next hour or so and Mr. Q. wanted to meet up with them and make a good impression.

--------

October 30, 2012—0730hrs
Bokan, Iran
Vahdat Complex

There was something about the well dressed little man that stood with a group of contractors outside of his makeshift traders tent laughing that made Ediz uncomfortable. He’d seen the man around Bokan on several occasions, usually visiting with the brass, and it was evident that he held some amount of influence in the area, but Ediz had always considered himself to be a good judge of character and he definitely didn’t like this man that was referred to only as Mr. Q.

During patrols through the Vahdat complex Ediz had the opportunity to speak with a variety of people and there were many that appeared to be genuinely afraid of Mr. Q despite his small stature. No one dared say anything negative about the man, however, especially after he was seen being friendly with Amigard officers. The only ones that openly expressed negative feelings about the man were the aid workers who had been in Bokan for the past year or so. Several aid workers voiced concern that Mr. Q had been behind several attacks on Amigard relief supplies in the past.

Unfortunately when Ediz brought this up with his superiors they dismissed it. A lot of people around Bokan had been involved in similar operations on one level or another; it was mere survival and they weren’t going to hold his past against him, it was the future they were interested in. Ediz received a similar response regarding allegations that Mr. Q had been, and indeed continued to be, the owner/operator of a large prostitution ring. Amigard officials had bigger fish to fry so to speak; they would look into it eventually but for now resources had to be focused on restoring infrastructure and order to the area. Ediz was politely told to focus on his patrols.

Ediz stopped at a stall and bought some sort of meat on a stick. He wasn’t particularly hungry and he didn’t want to know exactly what the meat was before it became food, but he always tried to buy something from one of the vendors every day. The vendor asked for a host but Ediz gave him two. The man thanked him profusely as he walked away and then gave the stick to an old frail looking woman.

“Thirty minutes left” Private Jackson said as he walked next to Ediz their rifles lazily swinging from their slings across their chests “wanna head to the beer tent after we get off?”

Ediz scowled “That shit’s nasty” he said “home brew crap…they need to fly in some real beer”

Jackson laughed “hey better than going sober in this hell hole.”

Ediz couldn’t argue with that logic and he agreed. They walked north through the complex heading for the north gate where their humvee waited. The little man walked briskly past them as smiled. Ediz nodded but eyed him warily.

-----

October 30, 2012—0900hrs
Amigard City, Iraq
Saint Michael’s Cathedral War Room

General Malik pointed out various locations on the map of Iran that was posted on the large central screen in the massive room. “We’ve secured pretty much all of Western Iran although pockets of resistance continue to spring up. We’ve split our forces into three groups. The 10th Infantry Division and its elements are in control of the Kordestan, Hamadan and Kermanshah provinces while elements of the 11th Infantry Division hold Khuzestan, Lorestan, Chahar Mahal Va Bakhtiari, Kohgiluyeh Va Boyer Ahmad, and Ilam. The Third Airborne Division has secured Markazi and Qom but they are reporting heavy fighting in some areas. A significant resistance force has holed up in the mountains near Saveh. This General Alinejad has consolidated his forces there and has dug in. They are well entrenched and we believe they are maintaining a supply network using a series of tunnels. He is causing some significant headaches for our forces there and hit and run attacks continue to be frequent.”

“I’m told things are relatively quite in the south?” Cardinal Steele asked as he looked over the map.

“We’ve had some significant success with local leaders there but negotiations continue. There is little chance that they will agree to join the Theocracy outright but they are staying their hand for the moment as we discuss alternatives to annexation. Currently we are essentially acting in support of their military and police that are already in place, and supplies are reaching their destinations with little obstruction. The Northwestern region continues to be a problem, however, and efforts to restore infrastructure and bring in relief have been hampered by attacks on supply convoys and construction crews. Yesterday we lost a UH-60 utility helicopter to an rpg attack while it was attempting to fly supplies into Mollalar. Still resistance is small scale, scattered, and uncoordinated for the most part.”

“Do we have enough forces in theater to accomplish our goals?”

“Honestly your eminence, I do not believe we do” General Malik said as he pointed to several locations on the map “The Third Airborne in particular will likely need reinforcements in order to truly establish control and root out Alinejad. I’d recommend we send another Corp…perhaps the Fifth Corp, to deal with him.”

Cardinal Steele thought on this for a moment then nodded his approval “Far be it from me to play at strategy. If you say we need more then we need more. Do what you have to do General.”

[Layarteb]

August 8, 2012 - 12:00 hrs [UTC+3:30]
Arak, Iran
Arak Airport
(34° 8'14.08" N, 49°50'35.58" E)

Savagery was the only way to describe what was being done to Manchurian's two prisoners from the morning's raid in the Shahr-e Sanati District. Stripped of their clothes, shoved around roughly, hosed down with ice cold water, and humiliated, they were subjected to electroshock torture and physical beatings before the first questions were ever asked. You could see fear in their eyes and, in the eyes of their handlers, the purest form of hatred possible. Neither of them had managed to utter anything that their handlers had wanted to hear and whether or not they were actually connected with the attacks remained to be seen. All they gave so far was a lot of crying, a lot of begging, and a lot of pleading for the torture to stop. Eventually, their will would be broken and they would confess to whatever their handlers wanted just to end the torturous pain.

On the surface, while workers fixed up the damage, trying to put back their perimeter, an investigation into who dropped the ball was under way. The man in charge promised that "Head's [were] going to fucking roll," when he found out who was "sleeping on their shift." He didn't have time to tend to it personally though. A VIP flight was inbound and due to land any minute now and he had to get a convoy organized to transport the VIP from Arak Airport to the Shazand Oil Refinery, on the other side of the city, fifty kilometers away. Their route would keep them on Highway 5, which snaked north of the city, avoiding it completely. They would pass close to Namak Kor though, which was considered a hot zone. The very small village was really a slum and as such, it was a treasure trove for hostile, warlord sympathizers.

The convoy was going to consist of just three vehicles; all of them Cougar H armored trucks. Capable of moving quickly and protected against mines and IEDs, the Cougar H was the most logical, if the least comfortable choice. The VIPs would have to suck it up, if they wanted to get to and from the Shazand Oil Refinery without any extra holes. Of course, the PMCs would neglect to tell them that the populace of Arak was fired up, not just from the attack on the airport but also from the early morning raid against the Shahr-e Sanati District. The entire city knew by now and inside of mosques, imams were preparing their Friday sermons to speak of the treacherous nature of the Western soldiers. They would entirely misrepresent them as soldiers of the Empire but that was to be expected. The daily discussion groups would also speak to the same cause of enraging the populace against the PMCs.

The plane, a chartered Learjet, touched down on the runway at 12:10 and was immediately ushered into one of the airport's hangars. During the time before the Persian War, the airport had been dual-use, military and civilian. Unfortunately, the military, hardened hangars had all been destroyed and remained as such. Repairs to the runway had been completed but the airport remained unusable without extensive micromanaging, especially since its control tower lay in a pile of rubble. The airport's radar remained a skeleton of what it was and the mobile radar that the PMCs had brought in sat just one hundred meters away from the remnants of the original, using the same power source, rather than a generator. There was going to be a lot of talk about bringing in a counter-battery radar unit as well.

Manchurian's head man greeted the VIPs, introduced them to their drivers, and gave them a brief explanation of the safety requirements. Though the convoy wasn't expected to be engaged, they had to be prepared for every contingency. Bulletproof vests would be available to all of the VIPs and they were given clear instructions not to leave the vehicle unless instructed by one of the PMCs. They weren't to get out and join the fight if one should occur. The vehicles were armored and heavily armed, they would be able to deal with the type of threats that they expected to pop up, if the enemy happened to get particularly daring. In the end, the VIPs smiled, shook hands, got into the trucks, and were on their merry way with the convoy. The front and rear Cougar each had five men while the middle one had just three. The other two spots were taken up by the two VIPs.

[Amigard]

November 7, 2012—0900hrs
Cathedral of Saint Michael—Media Center
Amigard City, Iraq Diocese

“The Theocracy is in the final stages of negotiation with various local and regional leaders within the old Persian Republic” Cardinal Steele stood at the podium in the Cathedral’s press room dozens of cameras trained on him, the Amigard flag proudly draped behind him “it has been the goal of the Theocracy to restore the nations infrastructure and return order to the war torn nation and I believe we have made some significant strides toward our goal, but we are not there yet and I am asking the people of Amigard to continue to support our efforts there.”

Cardinal Steele glanced about the room which was filled with reporters from various news agencies throughout the Theocracy. The press conference had been called on the heels of a particularly deadly series of attacks against Amigard positions throughout the Markazi province and an increase in raids on Amigard convoys. The past week alone had seen over twenty Amigard soldiers killed or wounded and it was clear that popular support for the occupation of Persia would quickly begin to wane if this continued.

The latest polls, taken shortly before the attacks, showed a nation that generally supported the efforts of the Amigardian government to restore order to Persia even if they were luke warm on the concept of utilizing military forces to do so. People were happy to see the government doing something in the devastated neighboring nation. They were worried, however, that the Theocracy could find itself embroiled in a situation in which Amigard soldiers were viewed as invaders and the result would be a prolonged insurgency. Recent events were sure to support this concern. Amigardians were also growing concerned over the huge amounts of money and resources required to sustain operations in Persia, and there had been talk amongst some economists of an impending recession.

Cardinal Steele knew he had to keep the nation on board with what the Theocracy was doing in Persia and to help them see the long term benefits of a stable Persia despite some possible short term sacrifices that would likely be required. “Over the course of the past week we have experienced the devastating loss of more than twenty Amigardian lives. These brave men and women have given their lives for a most noble cause…to deliver their fellow man from a state of chaos and suffering. This nation grieves for its fallen heroes and we offer our prayers for them and for the friends and families that they leave behind.”

Getting the local leaders in the remnants of Persia to work together had been a daunting task to say the least but slowly things were beginning to come together. Direct annexation by the Theocracy had been rejected outright from the very beginning, the predominantly Muslim population was not about to give their sovereignty away to the Catholic Church, but at the same time the Persians seemed to recognize the situation they were in. In the end a compromise had been reached and was in the final stages of being formalized.

“The sacrifices of these men and women have made the possibility of peace and stability possible in Persia. Amigard officials are working with local leaders throughout the former Republic of Persia to reestablish the Republic as a protectorate of the Theocracy. The Theocracy will assist the Republic in restoring an election process by the end of this year in order to reestablish a central government. Military officials in Amigard and Persia are working together to reestablish a functioning Persian military, and Amigardian contractors are helping to rebuild the shattered infrastructure. Make no mistake; rebuilding Persia will be a long and sometimes arduous road, but Amigard will not turn her back on her neighbors and we will see this through to the end.

This process will no doubt represent a threat to some who stand to profit from a fractured and chaotic Persian state, and they will do everything in their power to prevent it from taking place. They will try to make Amigard out to be the enemy; an invader. I want to make it very clear that Amigard has not, and will not, conquer Persia. We are not crusaders, and we have no intention of forcing the Church onto the Persians. Once the nation is stabilized and the Persian government has been restored Amigard troops will begin to withdraw from Iran.”

Cardinal Steele made a few more comments regarding various agreements between Amigard and various Persian leaders and then allowed a few questions. The first came from a middle aged man near the middle of the room “You said Persia will become a protectorate of the Theocracy. What exactly does that entail your Eminence?”

Cardinal Steele nodded “Persia will be a sovereign state supported by the Theocracy. Persia will maintain its own unique government and military forces and will enter into a mutual defense agreement as well as various right of passage agreements with the Theocracy. Our governments will work closely together but Amigard will not necessarily have any authority over the Persian government although there will likely be a number of military and economic agreements made, but those are still being negotiated at this time.”

The cardinal nodded to a young woman to his left “There has been some talk of the Persians adopting Amigard currency can you tell us anything about that?”

“As it stands the Amigard Host is being widely accepted throughout Persia as a form of currency but it is doubtful that the Host will become the official currency of the Republic of Persia. At present there is no centralized Persian government that is capable of printing any form of national currency but we imagine that will change some time in the beginning of next year.”

A reporter near the woman asked the next question “How does Amigard plan on responding to the recent attacks? Will there be more deployments in the near future?”

“Commanders on the ground are going to be provided with whatever resources, manpower, and materiel necessary to accomplish their goals. This may or may not mean more troops being deployed.” The cardinal pointed to another reporter, a middle aged woman near the center of the room.

“What are your feelings regarding Turkish forces in northwestern Iran. Is Amigard working with the Byzantine government on this?”

“We are coordinating our efforts with the Byzantine military forces to ensure that we do not have any friendly fire incidents, but there is no formal agreement when it comes to Persia. I commend the Byzantines for doing what they can to get involved and bring relief to the Persian people and we must pray for those Turks that have given their lives and made the ultimate sacrifice.”

“How is it going to work then when the Republic of Persia is reestablished? Is the Republic going to expect the Turks to surrender the territories they have occupied?”

“That is a bridge we will cross when we get to it, for the time being there are no plans for that.”

After taking a few more questions the cardinal excused himself and left the podium. The news networks were abuzz regarding the press conference. Analysts went back and forth discussing the Cardinal’s announcements. Some felt the plan was sound and that the Amigard government was heading in the right direction in Persia but there were those that disagreed. Some felt the Theocracy was sacrificing too much and getting too little in return, and some even suggested the Theocracy go ahead and conquer Persia.

Isolationists continued to maintain a fair amount of influence in the Theocracy and they abhorred Amigard’s involvement in Persia, calling it imperialistic and aggressive, but overall among most Amigardians the reaction was balanced. There was a sense of cautious optimism when it came to Persia.

[Amigard]

November 7, 2012
Bokan, Iran

Kayla knew that Amigard soldiers had arrived in Bokan, she’d overheard some of the other girls talking about how they had seen the soldiers milling about the Vahdat complex or patrolling the streets. A few of the soldiers had been paying customers. Mr. Q. was very careful, however, not to expose Kayla to any of the Amigardians. More often than not he was using her as his own personal concubine, rarely allowing her outside of his personal complex.

Kayla had tried to convince one of the girls to tell one of her Amigardian customers that there was an Israeli citizen among the slave girls, but the young girl shook her head and frowned “Even if I told them they wouldn’t say anything to their commanders” she had said “they aren’t supposed to be visiting us, they don’t want to get in trouble…and if Mr. Q found out he’d kill me” Kayla received similar responses from other girls she talked to.

She was becoming desperate, unsure of how much longer she could tolerate the abuse. Many of the slave girls had become resigned to their fate; sure there was a glimmer of hope when Amigard soldiers arrived, but that faded quickly enough when it became clear that they were in no hurry to track down and eliminate the various prostitution rings in and around Bokan, choosing instead to focus on protecting convoys and aid shipments. Kayla, on the other hand, refused to be resigned to such a life. She would find a way out, and even if it killed her at least she would die free. For the time being though there was no obvious way out and despair was constantly attempting to worm its way into Kayla’s soul.

---------------------

November 8, 2012—0630hrs
Near Mr. Q’s Residence
Bokan, Iran

Ediz focused on his patrols as he had been instructed to do, he just happened to focus more intensely on areas where Mr. Q was known to operate; “in an effort to protect this apparent VIP and his property from vandalism and theft” is what he told his commander when he questioned why Ediz had seemed to take such an interest in the businessman. Mr. Q had, after all, become increasingly wealthy and influential just over the course of the past month or so and he was not without enemies. The man had established a construction company, among other businesses, using subsidies and equipment provided by the Theocracy. While there were contractors from Amigard that had arrived to cash in on the subsidies and tax breaks offered by the Theocracy, the Amigard government attempted to favor local contractors when possible.

The little man was dirty, Ediz knew it and he had a sneaking suspicion that the little man was still involved in attacks against Amigard supply convoys, he just didn’t have enough on him to get the powers that be to dig deeper so he was going to have to do the digging himself.

Ediz could see the look of recognition cross Mr. Q’s face as his shiny new black sedan pulled into the driveway of his residence passing Ediz who was posted about thirty yards from the driveway. Another, less impressive sedan pulled behind Mr. Q’s and a group of four men exited and surrounded Mr. Q’s vehicle while the driver of Mr. Q’s car got out and opened the door for his boss. The little man stared for a moment at Ediz who was leaning against the hood of his humvee watching Mr. Q out of the corner of his eye as he talked nonchalantly with his buddy. Things had been relatively calm around Bokan as of late and the two soldiers’s rifles were stacked in the front seat of the vehicle.

None of the men that got out of the second sedan were apparently armed as the Theocracy had made it very clear that Persian civilians were not permitted to possess firearms outside of their own homes at this point in time whether they were concealed or not, and the Theocracy would not authorize private military contractors within areas they controlled. However, Ediz knew the men were armed. Each of them wore black three piece suits that could easily hide a pistol or submachine gun.

Ediz saw the little man nod in his direction and say something to one of the body guard, who in turn looked over at Ediz’s position. Mr. Q turned and walked into the large house that served as his primary residence. Meanwhile the body guard that he had spoken to made his way over to Ediz. Seeing this Ediz gave his buddy a quick tap on the shoulder and straightened up.

“Hullo” the bodyguard said in a heavy Arabic accent. Ediz could see himself reflected in the mans mirrored sunglasses. He was a stout man slightly taller than Ediz with a shaved head and thick beard. A small smile played across the mans face.

“Morning” Ediz replied

“You in charge?”

“Specialist Ediz” he said and motioned to his partner “this is Private Jackson.”

“So you in charge yes?” the man replied his voice deepening.

“I am the highest ranking between the two of us, yes.”

“Why you guys hanging around here so much? Mr. Q say he see you many times.”

“Its part of the territory I patrol” Ediz said a little more guardedly than he’d intended “just keeping an eye on things. And you are?”

The two stared each other down for a moment with Private Jackson nervously glancing back and forth between them. “Abd-al-Hamid Kareem Saab” the man said finally and extended his hand; Ediz shook it.

The mans grip was powerful; he was doing his best to crush Ediz’s hand. Ediz forced himself not to wince at the pain. “I head of security for Mr. Q” Saab said “we can keep eye on things here. You go.”

Ediz smirked “It’s no problem. We don’t mind helping out where we can. The city still has some undesirable characters about, it’s important to let them know Amigard is watching.”

The flash of anger on Saab’s face let Ediz know his subtle message had been received. The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity, hands clasped staring and waiting for one to blink. Finally Saab released Ediz’s hand, much to Ediz’s relief. Nodding slowly the large bodyguard took a step back “We watch too” he grunted “happy to help our neighbors if you need.”

Saab turned and stomped back toward the residence. Watching make sure he didn’t turn and see him, Ediz shook out the pain from his aching hand and looked over at Jackson. The private’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“What the hell was that all about” Jackson asked.

“I don’t think this Mr. Q much cares for our presence here” Ediz replied as he stared after the retreating bodyguard “kindof makes me want to set up a tent and hang out a little while.”

Jackson gave Ediz a look of warning “You better be careful Ediz. I don’t think Top would be too enthused if he thought we were harassing this guy.”

“I’m not harassing anyone” Ediz snapped “lets go.” Marching back to the passenger seat of the vehicle Ediz grabbed his rifle and jumped in. Jackson paused for a moment still trying to process what had happened. Sighing he joined Ediz and the two drove away.

[Byzantium Imperium]

Persia - West Azerbaijan
November 5th - 2012
Turkish 4th Army - Private Egemen Balik

West Azerbaijan was a complete change of scenario as to what the Turkish had become accustomed to. While Iran had not been kind to them; there was a very sudden shock and change in the provincial... Status to speak of; where once there were bridges there were none, where towns and villages had stood there was only rubble. If there was anyone left in the fore-units of the 4th Army that wasn't scarred; the sight of absolute destruction, of absolute void of life, shattered that lack of scarring.

More than one man had been sick at the horrific sights that no amount of training could prepare one for; the remnants of piled high corpses that were once people gathered at the centers of rubble that were once the middle of settlements was straining on the morality and sanity of any man, though they didn't break down at the sight, more so the Turks were drive numb from horror.

They knew then why it was the Persians were fighting so hard against them and the Amigardians, even if they brought with them the promise of better days; the last foreigners who'd come to their lands had been monstrous beyond human belief. There was no fighting in West Azerbaijan, as there was nothing to be fought; any who had survived, if such a thing were possible had fled long before from ancestral homes that no longer stood, from a land run fallow by haphazard dumping of nuclear materials which NBC crews were cleaning at that exact moment; the soldiers here were here only for show. Patrols were grinding and long, but creepily silent, not a single creation of God willingly stayed there save the Turks forced by circumstance.

Those who were here were not thankful to be there either, their days were filled aside from the patrols with long periods of digging like common laborers so that they could bury what remained of tens if not hundreds of thousands of people ranging from the very young to the very old, the Turks who were stationed there also resolved in their long periods of digging and planting the dead as Imams blessed the deceased that if war ever came with Russia, they would return this macabre animism onto their women and children and see if they so enjoyed the same; though they did this quietly away from the ears of their officers and the priests.

In the other parts of Persia that the Turks had come to the situation was different; the fighting was not gone, but it was quieting down as an entrenched insurgency rose up against the Turks; local leaders were reached out to certainly though few were as responsive here in the darkly colored north as opposed to the areas where the Amigardians were setting up; which the officers hearing of what the men in West Azerbaijan had seen; they understood why though it did not excuse the senseless murder of people who were trying to raise them up a little.

The politicians in Constantinople seemed very distant as well as they argued over the justness of this invasive action; as the state and independent news agencies bombarded the Byzantine Congress with morality questions and the extension of proposed involvement; there was some tiny relief in the fact that the people were not united against the decision, choosing instead to help their neighbors; for now at least, there was no doubt as more fathers, sons and brothers died in the clashes in Persia, the more support for the Hegemony's actions in Iran would be justified. They; those in charge; settled for the fact it was going to be a long coming decade.