The Sword of Damocles (Attn: Kraven, Gholgoth, Closed)

[Vetalia]

OOC: This is nominally Secret IC, but if any Gholgoth nation can plausibly RP discovering it via their intelligence service they can assume being aware of it before the "big announcement and are welcome to be involved.

Part I: I Wonder Why

Praetorial Palace, Vetalia City, Vetalia

I wonder why/I love you like I do/Is it because I think you love me too/I wonder why I love you like I-

*snap* as the Praetor turned off his radio with a quick turn of the dial. The most popular Vetalian song of the year ended with an abrupt silence, leaving only the soft patter of rain against the darkened window as background noise. This wasn't a night for something as schmaltzy as that.

Pausing for a moment, he turned to the window. In the distance, he could see the intense light of Vetalia City's central business district, that golden heart of the country churning out its unimaginable wealth day in and day out. None of them knew just how much things would change in a few short weeks. He had seen the results of Vetalia's last Grand Alliance firsthand, but this time was different...he was playing with fire and he knew it.

But desperate times call for desperate measures; the rearmament process was proceeding haltingly at best and he was faced with the prospect of an unfavorable treaty regarding the Londinian territories. Peering out the window of the now-silent room, he ruminated over the negotiations with Ganosia.

A lease, a fucking lease...the lands we settled, we built, the lands of British Londinium...all sayonvoir.

The sudden intrusion of a Volscian word into his thoughts was unnerving, he had never had a solid command of the language and was surprised it was so involuntary. Irrelevant, though, what mattered was the present. He couldn't bring back the Golden Age of the past but he could sure as hell try to create a new one. He pulled a cigarette from his case and lit it, the blue smoke drifting upwards towards the ceiling before being swiftly removed by the air purifier.

The Proconsul of State will be here soon, hope he likes this new assignment He gave a short, sardonic laugh at the thought. The Proconsul of State was the quintessential Vetalian, warm, friendly and polite beyond belief. It would be an interesting challenge to send him to the Reich.

The mission had already been cleared by the Senate under the innocuously named "International Trade Relations Act", buried in an obscure part of the legislation regarding sales of Vetalian automotive parts to foreign countries. As expected, the Senate had passed it without even considering the specific provision, focusing instead on the meatier parts of the bill that were more appealing to constituents. A knock on the door interrupted his rumination.

"Come in."

Maria poked her head in. "Hi Vasily, sorry to interrupt but the Proconsul of State is here to see you!"

He smiled at her, she had been his assistant at Belinsky Paper long before entering politics and he truly liked being around her. Maria was one of the few people whom he could talk to and immediately feel happier afterwards. She was also one of the few whom he allowed to address him by his name rather than title.

"Thanks Marunya, send him in. You're the best!" He smiled again.

"No, you are!" They both laughed and she continued, playing with her hair. "I'll send him right in." With a swish of her dress she turned around and left the chamber, heels clacking on the marble floor. A pang of regret hit him shortly after she left. He knew what happened to women like her in the Reich. But business was business and Vetalia needed business more than emotions.

He lit another cigarette and waited for the Proconsul to enter.

Part II: Come Softly to Me

The Proconsul of State paused at the door to ensure he would not disturb the Praetor but upon seeing him staring out of the window rather than his computer knocked on the sill. As was the usual case in Vetalia, the Proconsul of State was a close personal friend of the Praetor. Friends appointed or hired friends to key positions. The Praetor turned the radio back on and the pleasant sound of "Come Softly to Me" played.

Might as well make it comfortable, nobody wants to send their friend to claim the Sword of Damocles Another pang of regret, but suppressed when the Proconsul entered.

The Praetor turned to face him. "Vova, you as well as I understand our position in the region."

"Of course, Vasily. But what do you want me to do about it, I'm only-"

"That's not the point, Vova. I am sending you to the Reich to cultivate an alliance between our nations. They have already expressed a willingness to this end and would be willing to back us in the reclamation of the Londinian lands as well as other future gains."

"But what about the risks, what about-"

The Praetor cut him off. "The risks are acceptable, we have no other option at this point. Our nation lacks the resources to fight on its own."

"We need someone to negotiate this treaty and you are it." Pausing after being so blunt to his friend he added "Vova, our country can't stand alone, we need someone strong to help us bring back the way things were. You've proven how good you are at this job and I trust you to get it done."

"Of course, Vasily."

The Vetalian delegation departed to the Reich a week later.

[Vetalia]

Come Fly With Me

The typical Vetalian delegation consisted of a bevy of delegates, from the Proconsul and his staff of diplomatic attaches to any number of corporate businessmen, security, secretaries and special interest groups all jostling to be a part of the negotiations. Agendas were detailed and comprehensive schedules drawn up interspersed with any number of dinners and outings meant to show off Vetalia's wealth and benevolence. Sometimes it was genuine, other times not, but nonetheless all involved could agree it was a memorable experience.

This time was different. Only five men were in the spacious diplomatic jet, the two pilots in front and the Proconsul, Consul and their attache. They had sat in silence most of the trip, on occasion shuffling papers or pretending to do something important. No guards, they were well aware enough to know the futility of such a gesture. The cheerful Vetalian pop playing over the radio just made the atmosphere more overbearing, but turning it off would hammer home just how foreign this experience was.

Proconsul Vladimir Sergeyevich Melnikov held the sparsely worded dispatch in one hand and before him rested his own agenda, with a single bullet point on the creamy Praetorial stationery. The skies over the ocean seemed to turn grayer as they approached Fortress Noska.

Negotiate terms of non-aggression pact and defensive agreement at your discretion. - Vasily

There was something unnerving about it being handwritten.

That's pretty damn weird, most of the time I've got to clear these things before I run them through... He stopped that train of thought abruptly. Best not to ask questions or think too much about it. He wished he had a drink to relax a bit, instead opting for a cigarette lit with jittery hands.

However, just as the first puff of smoke rose to the ceiling the plane banked and the distant, massive height of the Citadel was clearly visible far above anything else on the horizon even this far outside of Reich airspace. It was a breathtaking sight even in its twisted majesty and the Proconsul looked on with a sort of awe. A strange feeling welled up in him for the briefest second, something he couldn't quite place, and then rapidly subsided.

The pilot identified over the intercom that they would be approaching within the reach of Reich communications and would immediately identify well in advance to ensure proper handling of the delegation and its arrival. From here it would be the Reich dictating terms.

Upon hearing the announcement, he thanked the pilot and flicked his cigarette into his ashtray. Looking again at the distant Citadel, he briefly felt that same emotion again and looked down at his hands. They were no longer shaking.

[Vetalia]

Smile

I wish I was home, not in this...hellhole thought the Consul as they rode along in the APC. The entry procedures were disturbing enough, with the dogs and guns and barbed wire and paperwork and those awful, inhuman Captiol Police watching over everything. As a measure to calm himself down, he reminisced fondly of Vetalian customs entry, especially the staff that worked at the ports of entry greeting arrivals with genuine warmth and friendliness. A simple emptying of the pockets, a cursory presentation of documents and a walk through the metal detector was all they needed. He glanced towards the attache, who clearly felt the same way, nodding to affirm their mutual opinion.

The Consul and attache stared out with terrified wonder at the empty streets free from the tailfinned cars that clogged Vetalia's highways during rush hour. It was like nothing they'd seen before. And then they saw the execution...

We're not in Petrovsk anymore... thought the Consul as he recoiled involuntarily each time the gunshots went off. He noticed that the attache had grasped his left hand, a culturally Vetalian means of wordlessly expressing distress and fear. Looking at him, he saw in his eyes the same fear that he felt. Placing his other hand over the attache's, he smiled at him to attempt to ease his fears. No time for words, and they'd prefer not to speak when in this...place. The attache appeared at least somewhat relived knowing he wasn't alone.

They then reached the next circle of Hell. Seeing the downtrodden people waiting in line to receive their meager rations, seeing that poor woman beaten by the Capitol Police with nobody to stand up for her, and the callous indifference of the others in line was too much for the attache who had spent his life working in Vetalia, where this conduct was simply unconscionable. He started breaking down and the Consul quickly moved to console him, somewhat angered that the Proconsul had been so distant and cold since arrival.

The Proconsul had become withdrawn and sullen since they landed, preferring to stare out at Norska. As he watched the city go past him, that feeling arose again. It's so efficient and focused on the Reich's interests...wish we could have that kind of devotion in Vetalia. There was something there, a sort of pride in the sheer efficiency of the Reich.

Unlike his colleagues, he didn't feel the same intimidation during their arrival. It was a transactional relationship that he wanted to develop further.

[Vetalia]

You're Sixteen, You're Beautiful and You're Mine

The APC continued past more scenes of horror, more lines of workers waiting for food, clothing and other items of importance, the envoy was now approaching The Citadel and here there were less people, the buildings of the city ended here, they past a mile of open terrain, with tank traps, barbed wire and wide gullies to prevent tanks from crossing, there were only a few narrow roads heading towards The Citadel, this area had obviously been designed to be a kill zone, the envoy was stopped once more, its papers checked by another group of Capitol Police, the checks here were even more stringent than before and at this checkpoint it was a good hour before the group got moving again, they were sat in a small detention area with several other people, they all wore dark blue overalls, unbeknownst to the envoy, their overalls indicated that they were Citadel Menial Task workers, they were undergoing the same stringent checks that the envoy were going through...

An Officer of The Kraven SS approached the group, his uniform was black, with Twin Hammer emblems on the lapels of his uniform, his jackboots made authoritative steps as he walked towards the group, it was obvious by his walk that he was Capitol Police, the other people looked down at the floor as he approached, the fear they felt was tangible to the room, The Officer stopped and handed them their ID cards back, without speaking the group of people quickly got up and left without once speaking or looking at the envoy that sat in the same room..

The Officer then approached the envoy, he didn't hand them their ID cards back or apologize for the delay, he simply gestured to the Attache and instructed him to follow, he was led without speaking towards a small side room, in the middle of the room was a metal table and two chairs, a lamp illuminated the room with an eerie glow and faint blood streaks marked the wall with a dark staining that gave some clue as to what might have transpired here in the past..

The Attache and Consul looked down with the same fear as the people in the blue overalls, not out of imitation but instinctive fear. By now, they knew better than to attempt to speak except when spoken to. The Consul nervously adjusted his tie at the time, never letting go of the Attache's hand in his left. The Attache had calmed down since his first encounter with the Reich, settling into a quiet sense of resignation that was profoundly troubling. This had to be a traumatic experience for someone who had never been outside Vetalia, it was heartbreaking enough seeing the poverty and oppression of the Cazelians during his own Attache days working in the Londinian colonies.

But this was infinitely worse than that. A brief flash of anger arose at the Proconsul's decision to bring someone inexperienced with the darker side of human if we can call it that nature to a place like this. He just wondered what in the hell had led to this decision. That poor man had been thrown into the ninth circle of hell without getting the experience from the first eight.

The Consul briefly squeezed his hand and gave the slightest hint of smile to reassure him... then the Officer gestured for the Attache to follow him into the room. The Attache rose and briefly turned his head back to the Consul and Proconsul. The Consul gave another slight smile, hoping to God it would go well.

The Proconsul sat next to them, but didn't look down with the same fear as the other two, simply staring ahead blankly as the officer passed. When the Attache stood, he saw how nervous and scared he was and a pang of compassion hit him...he was truly sorry that this particular Attache had been brought on this mission, it wasn't his choice but someone in the Ministry thought it made sense. When the Attache turned around, he gave him a full, genuinely warm smile hoping to reassure him it would be okay.

The Officer gestured to the chair on the other side of the table and the Attache sat down with minimal fuss, no doubt a thousand things were running through his mind, what was he going to be asked, what they were going to do to him and why they were being treated like this when they were essentially on a diplomatic mission...

An understatement to say the least. The Attache had been promoted to his position from Procurator mere months before this mission, serving solely in the Parthian Empire and Ganosia during that time. While a mission to the Reich would certainly be quite the resume-enhancer giving him a shoe-in to Aedileship, the cost on him emotionally and psychologically was a whole other question. He entered the room meekly and sat down before the officer.

"You are the attache with the Proconsul, is this correct?" The Officer spoke, his voice was cold and devoid of emotion and it would have dawned on the Attache that this was the first time anyone from The Reich had spoken to any of them other than instructing them to proceed...

Finally being spoken to triggered his innate Vetalianness. With an almost cheerful tone he began..."I-I'm sorry if I was a bit shaken up, it's just I'm not quite used to this kind of environment! I hope I haven't caused any problems. How are you doing?" A nervous laugh followed.

Silence. Cold, stony silence. Now thoroughly unsettled, he realized these weren't the types for small talk.

"The Proconsul, have you worked with him for long?"

"O-only six months, I was just appointed as an Attache not too long ago..." he trailed off, preferring not to say anything more.

"How long have you been working for the Vetalian Government?"

"Eight years, I started as a Legate in the Ministry of State and only recently was promoted to Procurator!" He winced slightly at his enthusiasm, knowing neither the Reich nor this officer cared in the slightest at his career progression.

"Would you consider or have you ever considered subversive activities?"

"No, of course not!"

"You are aware that you are about to entire The Citadel District? You will be required to carry your personal ID on you at all times, this document is to indicate that you are here on Diplomatic Business, if you are stopped at any time and for what ever reason you cannot present either documents, you will be shot by firing squad, You and your envoy and your Proconsul are under the jurisdiction of The Reich Civil Doctrines, your status as a Diplomatic Envoy is not recognised by Reich Civil Doctrines and you will be subject to their implementation should you fail to comply." The Officer slid over two documents and an ID card...

"Do you fully understand?" The Officer spoke once more before leading the Attache out and back to his group, The Officer then selected the next for questioning, then finally The Proconsul...

"I am, I'll be sure to comply fully with everything!"

The Proconsul was led into the room and another gesture towards the seat, the documentation was looked at by The Officer for a moment before the line of questioning began, The Proconsul seemed rather comfortable with the situation, as though the atmosphere of The Reich was starting to make him think and feel like a Kravenite...

The Proconsul entered with a strange calmness in his demeanour, as if this horrific room was no different from his office back in Vetalia City. Internally, however, he was a brutal mix of emotions, one part of himself struggling with the other. On the one hand, he was horrified and outraged at the brutality, bleakness and cruelty he had witnessed but on the other felt admiration for the things he had witnessed. The control, the order, the efficiency...and the cold silence. A memory came back associated with that strange feeling, it was vague and all he knew at this point was it dated back to The War. A stream of thought ran through his head as he entered.

God how I hate the noise I have to deal with day in and day out in Vetalia. Whether it's the endless traffic of vehicles and people, every single person smiling and asking how I'm doing when they pass in the hall, the brightly colored advertisements with an endless parade of cheerful faces selling whatever shit they were pushing, the neon lights, the glare of Vetalia City making it hard to sleep, listening to the Praetor and that ditzy bitch secretary of his Maria chatting non-stop about some inane topic, laughing and joking when there was work to be done and I was waiting in the conference room alone with a diplomatic policy analysis that took eighty fucking hours to pull together while I'm sitting here listening to the same damn songs over and over I don't care if you're sixteen and beautiful and you're mine I just want to get this project completed he just acts that way because he wants to screw her no wonder we've lost so many wars people just plain don't SHUT UP here always talking always chatting always laughing and smiling I bet it's fake anyways but they just won't leave you alone unless you play their game...

The stream of mental gibberish stopped with a simple, coherent thought...Here it's quiet. Quiet enough to get things done.

A sudden feeling of shame passed over him soon after that mental outburst, it was mean-spirited and he really did like Maria, she was such a sweet person...and he did like that song quite a bit. He was disconcerted about it but there wasn't much else he could do but shrug it off to culture shock from being in such an alien place. No doubt this brief internal struggle was visible to the SS officer, but he maintained a calm facade as he sat down.

"How long have you been Proconsul for The Vetalian Government?"

"Five years. Further documentation of prior involvement in the Vetalian government has been provided. Total service to the Government is sixteen years."

"Has your Government ever performed operations counter to the interests of The Reich?" The Officer continued to ask, looking through some documents

"Not during my period of employment. Prior operations counter to the interests of the Reich have been disclosed in the file. The Government responsible for these operations no longer exists. Praetor Kosyachenko committed suicide and the remaining leadership of the Vetalian government at that time was executed by the occupation forces of the Crimm Empire in the aftermath of the Vivicide. There is no continuity between that Government and our current one."

"Have you ever considered or participated in subversive activity?"

"No."

"You are aware that you are about to entire The Citadel District? You will be required to carry your personal ID on you at all times, this document is to indicate that you are here on Diplomatic Business, if you are stopped at any time and for what ever reason you cannot present either documents, you will be shot by firing squad, You and your envoy and your Proconsul are under the jurisdiction of The Reich Civil Doctrines, your status as a Diplomatic Envoy is not recognised by Reich Civil Doctrines and you will be subject to their implementation should you fail to comply." The Officer slid over two documents and an ID card just exactly like the others who were interviewed, he was machine like in performing his tasks, he never deviated with small talk, any attempts from his interviewees to make conversation was dismissed with silence, there was no warmth or humour from him, just cold, machine efficiency...

"Yes."

[Vetalia]

Those Oldies but Goodies

The security checks had been completed, with it they were escorted back onto the APC, it crossed into the threshold of The Citadel District, it would be remarkable to the envoy that the wall that they approached was covered in defenses, weapon emplacements, gun positions, massive naval guns mounted into the wall, it was another tier of defenses in a seemingly impregnable city, the APC powered through a set of immense blast doors and into the Citadel District, the first thing that the envoy would notice would be the Troops, thousands of them marching in unison, columns of tanks rolling up the streets, aircraft waiting for deployment, more gun emplacements and checkpoints, more barbed wire and sandbags, the whole entire district was one great big military garrison...

The delgation rode in silence, the Consul and Attache simply staring forward preferring not to glimpse outward any more than necessary to get a feel for which circle of Hell they were in. The Proconsul stared out the window, watching with rapt attention at the sight. Such power, strength and security... he thought, and then more of the memory came back to him.

He must have been fifteen or so, maybe younger or older, he didn't quite know at this point. He remembered how worried Mom and Dad were each night when the news came on and how the sounds of the military jets scrambling overhead for practice exercises could be heard from their home in Kalograd. A few times they broke the sound barrier, shaking the entire house. He remembered a few days later they had driven to the West Beach Park in V-town for a quick vacation on a warm summer day only to be faced with barbed wire and sandbags closing it off. In the distance he had seen a gigantic mass of ships moving out.

Out East. Out towards Victoria.

Delving further into his memory, he recalled there were sandbags and barbed wire everywhere and entire streets were closed off by the Praetorian Guard and Vetalian Army units. With no other option they turned around and went home disappointed.

The next day gasoline was declared rationed for civilians and non-essential travel was banned "for the duration of the conflict". He didn't remember any further trips.

The APC continued up the street towards The Black Citadel, it passed more armour columns, massive heavy main battle tanks that dwarfed the APC, more Capitol Police marching in formation, more flaK towers, bunkers, gun emplacements, flags hung from banner poles, from buildings, there were less executions here but only because there were less people, two people in dark blue overalls looked as if they were being questioned by two Capitol Police Troopers, they were pointing at something and looked as if they were demanding something, probably ID, suddenly one of the Troopers drew is desert eagle and put two rounds in each of their heads, it was over in seconds and their bodies slumped together against the wall, The Capitol Police reported the execution into command and then walked away as if nothing had happened...

Another memory came back. It was a few weeks later. British Londinium had started sending forces to Vetalia to aid in the defensive buildup. Things had gotten worse overseas, the news agencies had been taken over by the government and only the most vague of information was coming out about what was going on. In addition to mail and news, phone calls and internet access were heavily controlled and screened. Everything but basic foodstuffs was now being rationed in order to divert resources to war production, and his own family had donated their second car to be rendered into scrap metal for use in producing weapons and machinery for the war. He remembered seeing how afraid everyone was, even moreso than before. The jets flew overhead more than ever, and occasionally he saw what looked like rockets moved on huge trucks passing through on the highway near his home.

Dad had been called up to serve in the reserves and had left for Saratov for basic training around this time. He remembered how Mom had begged him not to go only to watch this end in his stony resistance with her sobbing helplessly as he left for the bus stop. He tried to comfort her but it just wasn't enough and never was.

There had been a parade of Londinian troops marching through the town square a few days later, they went and watched with a combination of pride, love and fear hoping these troops would be able to turn the tide. Three days later, British Londinium launched, Vetalia launched, the Crimm launched and the Freeks launched.

The APC pulled up outside The Citadel itself, an immense structure five miles high, it bore a red beacon at the top that pulsated with a red glow, it could almost be seen from anywhere within Gholgoth, a reminder that The Reich was ever present, it loomed over the city, letting the citizens know that none of them can escape from The Reich's gaze, it watched their every move, their every waking moment, The Reich was omnipresent, it knew when its citizens were sleeping, when they were working, when they weren't, it knew when they broke the law and they knew when they were acting subversively, The Reich controlled every aspect of its peoples lives, it chose when they ate, when they slept, who they married, who they reproduced with, it even chose when they die....

Another memory. The aftermath was the worst. Vetalia had been savaged by Crimm ballistic weapons and its soldiers overran the country's defenses despite the biological weaponry deployed against them. Total anarchy abounded, their suburb was unscathed physically but societal breakdown was everywhere. He didn't know where Mom had gotten the assault rifle but he suspected it was from a dead Londinian soldier. It was sickening to both of them to have to use it against the hordes of looters and rioters who came out of the woodwork in the aftermath of the war...mere days before they were Vetalians like anyone else only to be turned into animals in the hellish destruction of the postwar period.

They had at least avoided the worst depredations of the occupation but seeing the country reduced to that was something he had wanted to forget, until now. Dad had ultimately made it back home from Saratov a few weeks later but he just wasn't the same...whatever had happened there was between him and God and he had never talked about it for the rest of his living days. Their family life recovered to at least a superficial extent but the experience imbued him with one thought...Vetalia failed us.

On this thought the Proconsul looked with a sense of admiration at this...monument...to national strength. The Reich had never let its people suffer at the hands of a foreign invader, let alone allow them to violate their national sovereignty. He thought bitterly of the colonies lost and the atrocities committed by the occupiers.

Two Officers were stood at the base of the steps into the Citadels, again there were no ceremonies welcoming them to Norska, there were only guards, not honour guards, just basic, cold Capitol Police Troopers, impassively watching as the Envoy unloaded from the APC, looking up they could see more gun emplacements on the Citadel itself, more naval guns, anti aircraft guns and radar installations, this was another tier of defences and judging by the fortifications it could hold of a prolonged siege for quite some time...

"Gentlemen, We trust your journey was uneventful." The Officers voice was cold and flat, he continued without waiting for a response...

"If you will follow, The Reich-Ministers are awaiting your arrival." The Officer gestured towards the impressive blast doors, then he turned and stepped up towards the doors not waiting to see if the envoy were following..

Inside, the Citadel itself were more guards, banners hung from the wall and another staircase greeted them towards a set of heavy duty industrial lifts, Guards were already ready and waiting for the envoy, with the doors opened, it was almost as if the Officers were rushing them along, as if The Reich was in a hurry to finalise the deal before Vetalia had any second thoughts....

The lift journey took some time, it was completely in silence, The Officers never spoke, they simply stared outwards waiting for the lift to arrive at its destination...

This gave The Vetalian delegates some time to reflect on what they had seen and to finalise any of their plans before meeting with The Reich-Ministers themselves...

The Proconsul no longer cared. The Reich had never failed its people, unlike Vetalia. It was harsh and cruel but defended them and its interests, they had never been forced to suffer what he had. The Consul and Attache are too young to get it he thought, perhaps attempting to justify his decision although he still felt a chill at the thought of aligning with the Reich. This was a power far beyond anything they had dealt with before.

The Consul and Attache stood behind him in nervous anticipation, hoping to return home, but they couldn't help but notice something different about the Proconsul. But now wasn't the time to discuss it.

[Vetalia]

Twilight Time

The Reich-Ministerial Offices
The Black Citadel
Vetalian Delegate Meeting
Fortress Norska

The Vetalian delegate were ushered into the Ministerial Offices, it was a long chamber high above the dark, foreboding clouds of Fortress Norska, but even here, high above the grime and filth of the MacroFoundries there was a strangeness about skyline that showed Kraven's influence extended far beyond the city below, the Delegate were gestured to sit at a long table, it was cold steel, utilitarian, there were no plush carpets, or fine decorations, just efficient placement of things necessary to further The Reich, the room was watched over by Capitol Police Troopers, seated at one end of the large hall, were The Reich-Ministers, they all watched the Vetalian Delegate enter and sit down, they watched with those cold, impassive eyes that every Capitol Policeman had, they waited for the delegate to be seated fully before they began, there were no introductions, no small talk just straight to the point

The Proconsul had asked the Consul and Attache remain outside during the negotiations, entering alone. He wanted a smoke but felt this wasn't the best place to light up. He looked around the room, somewhat admiring the utilitarian...beauty...of the room. He thought briefly. None of the excess from back home, the plush carpeting, elegant decorations, the chrome and tailfins, the endless colors and brightness and noise... That feeling came back again, even stronger than before.

Negotiate terms of non-aggression pact and defensive agreement at your discretion. - Vasily

Home, hah what a goddamn joke. All that luxury made us soft... The memories flooded back again, briefly, causing a sick combination of nostalgia, hatred and outright fear to arise within him before being forced back by cold, calculating appreciation of the situation he was in. He was here to save Vetalia from itself. The Praetor knew that, he knew that, it was only those two waiting outside who didn't get it.

"Delegate of the Vetalian Government, you are seated before The Reich-Ministry, your Government's request to begin talks with The Reich have been approved, the preliminary discussions between The Diplomatic Division of The Kraven SS and your Government have been found to be acceptable, this meeting in person is to finalise details and sign all necessary contracts between our two nations..." The Officers cold, emotionless words were uttered matter of factly..

"Correct. I am willing to proceed with finalizing our contracts."

Although completely unnoticeable to the Reich-Ministry and its assembled Officers, as well as himself, despite his direct, formal statement he had lapsed back into his Kalograd accent...he hadn't spoken that way since he was a child. He had spent countless hours as a young man training himself to eliminate it in favor of the clipped, formal accent of Vetalia City proper. He didn't want to sound like one of those working class rubes back home who put in an eight hour shift stamping out auto parts in the factories or who married young and went along for the ride, living their lives as a perpetual member of the lower-middle class. He wanted something more.

A Capitol Police adjutant brought over a dossier and placed it in front of the Delegate, it was a brown folder with a large Kraven Eagle stamped on the front, the adjutant opened the dossier and stood to one side, the papers detailed all the had been previously discussed between the various departments of the two Governments, however several clauses had been inserted into the contract without the Vetalian Government's knowledge one of the clauses would allow The Reich to begin operations in Vetalian held territory under the guise of security measures, another clause would allow them to station troops in Vetalian Colonies under the guise of Mutual Defence... The Reich had been monitoring the development of the Proconsul as he entered The Reich, his changing demeanour meant he would likely not fully read the contract and sign it quickly and without hesitation, this is why these clauses had been added, Vetalia would receive a powerful Military ally, but would also find itself closer to The Reich than any sane nation would like, to ensure their security and future, they would have to sign a pact with the Devil...

Unaware of the modifications to the treaty, the Proconsul gave the documents only a cursory examination. However, even without noticing these clauses he fully understood the consequences of his decision. Vetalia had failed him, it had failed its people and the only way to change that was to change Vetalia. For some reason a piece of a work he had studied during his days at the University of Vetalia came to mind.

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

He removed from his pocket case the special pen issued to high-ranking Vetalian diplomats for the purpose of signing documents with foreign powers. It was a clever device, it used a series of biometric checks assigned solely to the person it was issued to dispense the indelible ink. Upon completion of the authorization, the circumstances of its activation would be transmitted to the Ministry of State. He held it steadily for a moment before his hand started shaking. He was afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in his entire life.

To calm himself he looked at the pen itself...it was the same, overwrought artifact from Vetalia as anything else, covered with excessive ornamentation to show off national wealth.

The memories of the Past and that Feeling came back and he calmed down. This is for the best, I am saving our nation.

The authorization protocols ticked off as a series of small green LED buttons. With a cheerful beep, it was ready to use.

"Proconsul, is there anything you would wish to discuss before we sign the contracts and treaties?" The Reich-Minister asked, waiting for the delegates responses...

"No, I am ready to finalize our agreements."

Proconsul Vladimir Sergeyevich Melnikov had made his decision. He put the pen to the paper, the ink flowing smoothly from the pen onto the documents as he signed. Calm and collected, he capped his pen and put it back in its case.

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven

He smiled.

[Vetalia]

Fortress Norska
The Black Citadel
Vetalian Delegate Meeting

The Adjutant, took the signed documents and handed them back to The Reich-Ministers, the lead Officer looked at the documents for a moment, then closed the folder and handed it to another Reich-Minister who placed it into a black briefcase, the lead Officer, turned back to the Proconsul and his cold voice filtered into the room once more...

"A fleet has already been dispatched to Vetalia, Operations will commence within 24 hours, please retire to your assigned quarters, inform your Government that all negotiations are complete and that Operations will be commencing, all Vetalian forces are ordered to comply with Reich Forces, any attempt to interfere with Operations or to prevent Operations from commencing will be seen as a hostile act and will be dealt with accordingly, your Cooperation during these talks Proconsul has been appreciated." He paused for a moment and an Adjutant handed the Proconsul another document.

Realizing for a brief moment just what was happening, he paused before speaking. His tone was noticeably nervous...this was getting out of control and fast.

"I was not aware that mobilization has already occurred..." Pausing, and regaining composure knowing the opportunity this offered he continued. "However I don't find any issue with this. We must move quickly to avert any negative repercussions from other nations in Gholgoth."

Receiving the document, he read it as the Reich-Minister spoke.

"In front of you Proconsul you will find another document for you to sign, if you so desire it, The Reich is willing to offer you the position of Regional Overseer in the Vetalian Territory that will be occupied by The Reich, you will be responsible for the day to day runnings of those that remain within the cordon, your tasks will include work details and ensuring cooperation from the local populace that will come under the sphere of influence of The Reich." The Officer paused once more allowing the Proconsul a moment to look at the document...

"Consider it well, you would have certain benefits, your lifestyle will be more comfortable, you will however be offered this only once..." The Officer spoke, he looked at the Proconsul with cold dead eyes, what the Officer was asking was essentially asking the Proconsul to become a collaborator, working almost against his people for the benefit of The Reich, however, The Reich did not care for or about the people, nor the Proconsul, what he didn't realise is that as soon as he is no longer of use, he would be discarded like a piece of rubbish, his life was worth no more than anyone else in The Reich or Vetalia, no doubt he would come to realise this once he saw what was about to happen in Vetalia....

A pact with the Devil...

With a surge of emotion and memory of what had happened in the past, he spoke with genuine pride and admiration for the Reich's offer. "I would be honored to accept." With a notably sardonic, venomous tone mocking the same statement he had made when appointed Proconsul he continued. "On behalf of the People and Republic of Vetalia I fully accept the position of Regional Overseer in the territories occupied by the Reich." Removing his diplomatic signatory pen, he activated it and signed the document.

Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven.

[Vetalia]

The Great Imposter

Praetorial Palace
Vetalia City, Vetalia

Another rainy day pattered against the windows of the Praetor's office...they didn't call this time of year the rainy season for nothing. In the distance, Vetalia City's skyline was mostly shrouded by fog and low hanging clouds. Other than the occasional rumble of thunder there was no audible noise from outside besides the steady rain. The sky was an endless gray bowl and the deeply overcast conditions fit the Praetor's mood quite well. He lit a cigarette and took a drink, staring out at the foggy horizon. Setting the gin and tonic back down he listened again to the recording relayed from the Reich.

"On behalf of the People and Republic of Vetalia I fully accept the position of Regional Overseer in the territories occupied by the Reich.". Despite the intermittent static the message was clear. A thought came to mind...odd, I never knew he had a Kalograd accent. Maybe there was a lot about this man he didn't understand, but now his intentions were quite clear.

He thought further for a while, simply smoking and listening to the radio and the rain outside. A bitter thought came to mind, he had sent the Proconsul on this because he figured he was the kind of Vetalian that would negotiate some kind of limited treaty and return home nothing more than a little shaken and had felt hurt that he would send someone with his demeanor to the Reich...only to find out that there was a lot about his "friend" he didn't understand. A sense of shame came to his mind This is all my fault, I fucked up...we've sold our soul to the Devil and now have to deal with the consequences. Vova was not the man to send on this operation, he was too much of a loose cannon, too vulnerable to them.

With a bitter laugh he continued. The Proconsul sure did like his new assignment, more than anyone could have imagined...now he's part and parcel of the Reich. He hoped the Consul and Attache were alright, he had no means of keeping track of their actions.

He knew what happened to territories ruled by the Reich and to those who lived under them, especially the women...and then a new horror came to mind. Frantically looking at the clock he dialed Maria's office phone.

Ring...ring...ring...

Desperately he thought for the love of God answer, please God tell me she hasn't left yet

She answered.

"Hi Vasily, I just caught your call, I was just about to leave for th-"

He cut her off.

"Marunya I need you up here in my office ASAP. This is very serious." The thought of her being turned into one of those...things the Reich used was horrifying. Within a few minutes she came to the door and entered. He smiled at her and instructed her to sit down in one of the chairs facing his desk.

"So what's going on?" she said, somewhat anxious and noticing that Vasily was more than a few drinks beyond sober. The smoke from the cigarette in his left hand drifted lazily towards the ceiling as he spoke. Despite his inebriation, he spoke clearly and directly, which made her even more nervous.

"Marunya, listen to me before saying anything. Something very bad is happening in the Peninsula and I want to make sure you're safe. You are not going home tonight...I reserved a room at the Hotel Intercontinental for you for a couple weeks until we can get you a house in the city and you will be staying there."

She recoiled at this statement. "What are you talking about, I -"

"Marunya, the Reich is taking over the Peninsula. If you stay they'll..." He paused, not wanting to state more than was necessary. "...do things that I don't ever want to see you have to deal with. We'll pay for your house and anything else you lose, we might be able to get some of it back from the...Regional Overseer.." He omitted the fact about who the Regional Overseer was. Pausing, he looked at her with eyes full of genuine fear, lapsing from the diminutive as he spoke. "Maria, for the love of God promise me you won't go back home after you leave. Tell anyone else you know to get out of the Peninsular Province as soon as they can."

"I-I won't. I'll go right to the hotel!" Seeing the fear in the Praetor's eyes was enough to convince her this was way more serious than she thought.

"Good, please let me know when you're there, but get moving!" He smiled again, a feeble attempt at comforting her. She turned and left, quickly moving down the hall. The clatter of her heels echoed down the long chamber. He paused to take a swig of his gin and tonic and simply stared out the window again.

Fifteen minutes later, he issued an order for Vetalian citizens to immediately evacuate the Peninsular Province to Vetalia City.

Maria called two hours later from the Hotel Intercontinental. At least she's safe, he thought.

[Vetalia]

Vetalian Peninsular
+12 Hours after treaty was signed.
Northern Gholgoth
1400 Hours Standard Imperial Time


Vetalian Freeway, VI-83

The freeway had become a giant car park, cars stretched off into the distance after the order for a general evacuation was given by the Vetalian Government, it had realised just what the Preconsul had done and with as much haste as possible tried to save as many of its citizens as possible before The Reich closed the borders and trapped its citizens on the wrong side of the border, an area that would soon become a vision of hell itself, cars beeped their horns in frustration, radio stations repeated the same messages urging citizens of the Peninsular to leave their homes, to take as much as they could carry and leave anything that would slow them down, some people had abandoned their cars and carrying what little they could were running up the verges of the freeway, some carried their children in their arms, others waited patiently not wanting to leave a car full of their valuables..

VI-83 was a beautiful stretch of highway, its ten lanes weaving gently along the coast of the Peninsular Province, giving a view of the sunny, subtropical shores of southeastern Vetalia all along its route. Under normal conditions, one could speed along its smooth, carefully engineered curves seeing the marshes, the lush forests, mangrove swamps and grasslands with a comfortably warm breeze blowing through the windows. Along the route one could also observe the Petrovsk Heavy Industries' Luna Works, the largest petrochemical facility in the nation that processed nearly five million barrels per day of crude oil for use in refined petroleum products, industrial chemicals and more recently propellants for the Vetalian space program. Located mere miles north of Peninsular Province, it was a major employer for the region's population.

As the border of Peninsular Province draws near the coast it is increasingly obscured by towering resorts offering time-shares, condominiums for rent and comfortable apartments overlooking the warm ocean that rolls in lazily along the shores. A true tourists' paradise, if they can accommodate themselves to the peculiarities of Vetalian culture.

However, here, in this sunny, pleasant retreat Hell will descend on Vetalia.

Some responded with frustration.

"Goddamnit, move! There are five fucking lanes..." Ivan Angopov slammed down on the horn. He could see nothing ahead but endless cars with the chrome glinting off of their tailfins in the summer sun, stuck in a perpetual gridlock.

Anna Angopova replied curtly. "Dear, calm down! The children don't need to hear that!"

"Five, uh, freakin' lanes and not one moving. We'll get out of here once this clears up, honey." Suppressing his frustration, he turned towards to his kids in the back seat, both were toddlers and the apples of his eye. "We'll get out of here" he spoke to nobody but himself as he saw the parachutes descend in the distance.

He turned on the radio but shifted it to another station. She wore blue velvet.... He listened.

Some opportunists in the cities had began looting, not fully realising the gravity of the situation, they smashed windows and grabbed jewelry, televisions, anything they could carry, men and women ran down streets carrying handfuls of clothes taken from shops, some cars were burning having been driven into shops, burglar alarms sounded adding to the sense of chaos and worry that had descended onto the city...

Looting raged across the region in the immediate evacuation but was slowly controlled by the Londinian Legion, a paramilitary organization comprised of ethnic Londinians who wanted to restore order and by extension their old nation via any means necessary.

The clouds had begun to turn dark, foreboding, as though nature itself was heralding the arrival of The Reich, the first wave were the airborne assault troops, people in their cars looked up as a large black transport craft passed overhead, its powerful engines cast a low hum across the freeway that drowned out the sound of car horns and shouting, everyone stopped what they were doing as the craft passed overhead, they instinctively knew who it belonged to, it was black and had the red markings of The Kraven Air Arm, they watched as it wheeled around and came in for a second pass, this time the rear door was opened on its approach, they watched with wide eyes as one by one, black objects leapt from the back of the craft and olive drab parachutes opened, the black shapes drifted slowly to the ground, followed by several larger objects, dozens more paratroopers dropped into the country, within minutes the freeway was chaos...

People screamed and began to run, but already the Paratroopers were closing in, the Capitol Police were carrying roadblocks that had been paradropped in with them, they moved swiftly, each one being carried by six or seven Troopers, once on the freeway they deployed the barriers, then brought their weaponry to bear, people still ran towards the road block hoping to get through, but a burst of gunfire changed their minds, some still tried, driven by fear, driven by the desire to escape the hell that was coming, but another burst of gunfire cut the last few brave Vetalian souls down, a Capitol Police Officer approached the check point, holding a loud hailer he spoke with cold, indifferent words...

"The Peninsular of Vetalia is now under Reich Control, all citizens of the Peninsular are instructed to return to their homes and await further instructions during this period of transition, anyone failing to comply will be dealt with in an appropriate manner...."

"Fuck me, God help us." He muttered as he watched as the border was closed by the Reich and saw the people gunned down at the border. He looked towards his wife, who was silent with fear, and his children who sat happily ignorant in the child seats. He saw Londinian Legion paramilitary forces walking toward his car and acted accordingly. He wished he had a gun so he and his wife could die together rather than her be...used...by the Reich.

Angopov fumbled in the dashboard for a Londinian Flag pin and pinned it hastily to his shirt.

More Paratroopers were dropped into the cities, they landed in areas designated as centres of resistance, they landed in airports, train stations, the ports, they moved swiftly, not allowing any protest, any resistance from security forces was met with a lethal response, they were moving to shut down the peninsular, to trap its people on the wrong side of the border, The Fleet moved ever closer, bringing with it more Capitol Police, more horror and more darkness...

The face of Gholgoth was about to change once again, but this time, The Reich had taken this land through legitimate means...

[Havensky]

Vetalian Peninsular
+36 Hours after treaty was signed.
Northern Gholgoth
000 Hours Gothic Time

Vetalian Freeway, VI-83

God's Gonna Cut You Down

The road was lit only by the moonlight and the fires strewn across the abandoned interstate. A grey smoke filled the air as burnt out husks of automobiles continued their slow burn. The quiet night interrupted only by a roar single twelve cylinder engine motorcycle.

“In today’s news, The Skybound Republic of Havensky strongly condemned the invasion of Vetalia. Despite claims by the Kraven Reich. The government finds claims that land was acquired by legitimate means to be quote ‘a dubious if not ridiculous proposition” and that quote
“there is no justification for the imprisonment of the Vetalian people still on the peninsula.” Legislation passed during an emergency session of the Skyan Senate strongly urged the withdrawal of Reich forces from Vetalia and insist that those who have been trapped inside the peninsula be allowed to leave. Additionally..”

The motorcycle, a long chrome colored Hotrodian beast, slipped past the abandoned cars on the freeway breaking through the smoke. It’s engines only hidden by the thick compartmentalized saddlebags heavy with gear. Twin tailpipes extended down the sides, doing little to muffle the noise. The bike ran without headlights even in the darkness. It’s big thick tires consuming the pavement below. An observer, if there had been any in the midnight hour, would have heard the bike miles away. But through the darkness and the smoke, the speed of the bike would render it just a shadow and it’s grey pale rider nothing but a ghost.

What do you mean you can’t replace them?

Your arms are fused to your skeleton and nerve endings. I’m not sure how to remove them without making you a double amputee - much less how to do it without you dying from the pain.

But you’re an engineer, they’re roboti-

That’s just it. I make armor.. Specifically, I make armor you can take off - to put away the warrior - keep in the closet while you hug your wife and kids. What they did… they tried to turn you into something else using some perverted branch of science long since abandoned by a civilized world. I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can remove them.

DAMN IT…. I just… I just hate these.. they remind me too much.. of the damage done..

Two metallic hands gripped the control as the cleared the white smoke and entered an empty stretch of road. The rider’s pale grey cloak flew out in the wind concealing the rider’s athletic frame. The rider’s thick half-faced helmet was black and featureless, with two small green slants that reflected an eerie green as the helmets night vision goggles reflected back what little light there was. Beneath the helmet, his short silver hair reflected the moonlight.

And where do you think you’re going?
Out.

That’s a load of bull and you know it. What the hell are you thinking going out there? Alone? No backup? No authorization? YOU’RE BENCHED - What part of that didn’t you get?!

Somebody needs to help those people.

Are you sure? Seems to me like you just want to beat up on some Capital Police to make himself feel better.
You don’t understand - I have to make up for what I’ve

YOU CAN’T KEEP BEATING YOURSELF UP! YOU WEREN'T RESPONSIBLE!

The engine roared in protest as the rider slowed the bike down to maneuver past a particularly grisly wreck. A burnt out frame of a minivan was warped from the heat and their passengers still inside. A hodgepodge of cars stopped still all around it - as if time had stopped when the first car was hit.

The Capitol Police began barking orders to people through the cold vox amplifier attached to their gas masks, it dehumanised them, made them seem more like monsters than people, they opened doors and pulled people from their cars, began beating them with metal batons, the Officer watched with cold indifference as women, children and men were beaten with rifle butts, still some people refused to leave their cars, windows were smashed, and a young child was dragged from the car through the broken window by an unthinking, unfeeling trooper, things were not progressing efficiently enough thought the officer, he nodded and another Capitol Police trooper approached the road block, he had strapped to his back a large black metal tank and in his hands he held a large black nozzle attached to a length of hose, the people in the minivan tried to shut out the horror, the driver a man in his late thirties held his wife’s hand as the Trooper ignited the flame thrower and engufled the minivan in white hot flames, the sceaming and the stench of burning flesh filled the air as now, dozens of people leapt from their cars and began the walk back to town…

Every car the rider passed was heading away from the small town that the rider was fast approaching. Every car had at one point fled in terror from something dark. The rider knew too well the darkness that had taken infiltrated the soil. And the rider was headed straight toward it. The bike shot past an abandoned stuffed bear strewn on the side of the road.

The people were being marched back into town, the gentle sobs of women and children could be heard, as Capitol Police guarded the vast column of people, one man broke from the column only to be met with the crack of a rifle round, his body dropped like a dead weight, his wife started screaming but was silenced by a rifle butt to the chin, with a shove of an MG42 the column was urged to keep moving, a young child carrying a stuffed bear began to straggled behind, his mother started shouting his name, she could hear his crying but in the vast crowd of people she couldn’t see him, the Capitol Police pushed her onwards with a shove of an MG42 into her back, she started to shout at the Trooper but realised that it was useless, her son, was pushed onwards with the crowd, dropping the bear out of his hands as he struggled to keep up…

The rider was alone, but loaded for bear. A heavy high caliber black pistol rested on his left side holster. A yoroidōshi tanto blade rested in the right holster. Somewhere in the confines of the bike’s saddlebag rested the rider’s service rifle. In the right boot rested his bayonet and in the left a snub pistol. In a separate compartment of the held several boxes of ammo. The rider would need it. The terror that the people had been running from became apparent as light posts became road-side gallows - victims swinging in the wind.

The column neared the township, as the people moved closer, the Capitol Police had begun to exhibit their own form of punishment, bodies, strung from lamp posts, swaying gently in the wind, stragglers, people who were too exhausted to walk any further, an old man had collapsed to his knees, people tried to help him up, he panted, telling the people, his family to leave him, but they refused, it was however too late, The Capitol Police had seen him, within seconds a rope was placed around his neck, his wife held his hand, she pleaded with The Capitol Police...

“Please, no, not my husband please, I beg of you, please, not like this”

Her husbands eyes began to well up with tears, he knew that Capitol Police could not be reasoned with, her words fell on uncaring ears, with a hefty throw the rope was wrapped around the arm of a lamp post in the centre of the freeway, then with one strong pull he was hoisted off the ground, his body jerking and kicking, swinging from side to side, joining the others that had died before him… A potent symbol of Kraven Oppression…

The rider pulled into the town just before the light of dawn keeping a keen eye out for danger.

OCC:

Last few flashbacks written by Kraven

[Vetalia]

Almost Like Being in Love

Vetalian Township designated Hab Centre 06
Reich Controlled Territory
Northern Gholgoth
1430 Hours Standard Imperial Time

The Capitol Police had closed the border with a frightening efficiency that they had become renowned for, road blocks paradropped into the area prevented cars from continuing further up the freeway, and now systematically The Capitol Police forced everyone from their cars and ordered them back towards the town, the town itself had become a scene of chaos, looters had stolen most things from shops but now Capitol Police Paratroopers began rounding up anyone in the streets, a loudspeaker system began relaying messages to the population, its voice was mechanical and cold and it echoed across the now eerily quiet city, no sounds of children at play, no cars, no birds singing, just the cold announcer and the crunch of Jackboots on broken glass...

"Looting is a Crime under Reich Civil Doctrines, Looters will be hanged."

"This Territory is under the Jurisdiction of Reich Civil Doctrines and enforced by The Capitol Police"

"All Citizens of Hab Centre 06 are ordered to remain in their homes under curfew during this period of transition"

"All Subversive activity will be dealt with in an appropriate manner"

"Report all suspicious Activity to your nearest Capitol Police checkpoint"

Sergei Golodvayev stared out on to the street in front of his small apartment, listening to the endless announcements from the occupation forces as they droned over the Emergency Alert System loudspeakers. The smoke from his cigarette drifted lazily towards the open window, as if they too wished to avoid the cold, gray and rainy day outside. It seemed like even the weather itself was mourning this turn of events with unseasonable cold and rain in the midst of the Peninsular summer.

He remembered the call he'd received from Maria Chersakova a week ago...it was strange and uncharacteristic of her. His cousin normally only sent him emails and called on his birthday and other holidays, and they only met once in a while for family events. Especially so since she had become the Praetor's personal secretary; back in her days as the Praetor-to-be's secretary at Belinsky Paper she had visited the family a lot more often, but even then the pressures of work had led to plenty of delays and conflicts. It was tough for both of them initially, they had grown up together as part of a big, extended family in Bogotol, now Hab Centre-06, and he had always seen her as his little sister and he her big brother, and in a sense still did, even if she was the Praetor's personal secretary and he was a manager at the local supermarket back home in Bogotol.

But that was neither here nor there. When she had called, she broke down crying, talking about "trouble in the Peninsular" and urging him to flee as soon as possible. The call had been placed from the Hotel Intercontinental, which he knew was paid for by someone in the Vetalian government. Her salary was generous, but not 1,000 rubles per night generous. Something was up, someone from the Vetalian government was paying for her stay, and he was genuinely worried about what she was saying...but he put those concerns out of mind thinking about his next day at work. Two of his cashiers had apparently decided to catch the "warm weather flu" that was so dangerous this time of year and wouldn't be in the next day, leaving him to manage the register alone on the first shift. If he decided to take off because his cousin thought something bad was happening he'd be fired in short order by the owner, and besides, there was the car to pay for...

He looked down at the car, a fine piece of Vetalian automotive engineering. The Demidov-200 was a real beauty, 2,400kg of Vetalian steel, chrome and leather and the horsepower to make that machine roll smoothly along VI-83. The tail fins were sharp, too, and the tail lights embedded in them made them look like rocket engines. Fitting considering all the talk about the Vetalian space program in recent months. He remembered how nice it was driving that beauty off the lot, the black paint and chrome gleaming in the sun...

He snapped back to the reality of the present, hearing the announcements yet again over the loudspeakers. It chilled him to the bone to hear them, despite the mechanical, cold and soulless nature of the broadcasts they were clearly drafted by someone with fluency in Vetalian Russian and Volscian, which meant there was a high-level collaborator in their midst.

His car wasn't so nice now. A looter had decided to smash the windows as well as tail lights, for some reason, and had attempted to steal the radio. That ended predictably, she was intercepted by the Londinian Legion militia and was summarily executed. With excessive force at that, there was now blood splattered all over the interior of the vehicle as well as other body parts remaining from the corpse as well as a few dozen bullet holes in the frame of his car.

Last night, someone else had thought his parking spot was a nice, dark place to attempt to rape a woman hurrying home from her work to avoid violating the curfew. He remembered her screams for help and watching the arrival of three Londinian Legion members with their black-red-white armbands over their civilian clothes and distinctly non-civilian firearms. They wrested the man away from her and pinned him to the ground. Two additional Legionnaires arrived to escort the woman home safely and were waved on by the commander at the site.

Pulling truncheons recently "obtained" from the Bogotol Police, many of whom had either joined the Legion or fled, they took their time beating the accused rapist, giving him enough time to recover from the last round of blows to receive another.

He heard the screams of pain for hours before exhaustion took its toll and he drifted off into a nightmare-filled slumber. In the morning, the rapist's body was slumped on the side of the road, his body covered in purple, blue and green bruises and the body splayed in a strange angle. Blood was pooling around his head and his limbs were obviously broken in multiple areas.

While the man in question was certainly guilty, the lack of a proper trial and the prolonged torture left a bitter taste in Sergei's mouth. But things were different now...

Rebounding from his reminiscence, Sergei wandered to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of gin and a bottle of vermouth. Mixing a dry martini, he drank and smoked. Remembering his cell phone still had enough charge to play a few hours of music, he fired it up.

What a day this has been/What a rare mood I'm in/Why, it's almost like being in love ...

A group of fifteen men and women had been rounded up by Londinian Militiamen who were assisting The Capitol Police in keeping the order, the men and women held bundles of clothes and jewelry, looters, they knew the consequences of their actions, several of them had bruises forming on their faces from the Londinian Militia dealing out their own form of justice, a unit of five Capitol Police approached, the fifteen knew what was coming, as the troopers were all carrying rope over their shoulders, one trooper went over to the nearest lamp post and expertly threw a length of rope over the arm of the street light and then formed a hangmans noose, two other troopers then grabbed a woman by the arms and carried her over to the makeshift gallows, she kicked and screamed loudly but there was no one to help, the Militia and the remaining Troopers ensured the other fourteen could not escape, their weapons trained and ready on the group...

The noose was placed around her neck and then unceremoniously she was hoisted off the ground, he feet kicking and jerking about as the weight of her body constricted her neck, she jerked around some more and began to swing from side to side until her thrashing stopped, they moved onto another lamp post and repeated the procedure, another was selected and another began to sway gently in the breeze until all fifteen were joined together in death, a grim display of who was now in charge of the Peninsular...

The assembled Londinian Legion forces looked on with stony silence at this necessary step to restore order. They had done plenty on their own to reestablish order in the annexed territories. Unlike the Capitol Police, they were clothed in nothing more than civilian clothes save for the black-white-red armbands. Most had been nothing more than store owners, clerks, factory supervisors and the like save for their officers, many of whom were drawn from the elite class of Vetalian citizens in the Peninsular Province.

A Capitol Police Officer approached the Londinian Militia, his eyes were obscured from view by the peak of his officers cap, it dehumanised him more, making him seem more machine like than an actual person, his uniform was jet black, with the twin hammers on the lapels, The Kraven Death Eagle was above his right breast pocket and a blood red armband with bore the Twin Hammers finished the uniform off, a uniform that signified death, in Gholgoth the Grim Reaper did not wear robes and carried a scythe but wore a Capitol Police Uniform and carried a Desert Eagle...

"The Londinian Militia is to disband, your forces will become part of a Regional Military Force, part of the Kraven Kriegsmarine Volunteer Force, you are required to report to the Kraven SS Regional Headquarters in three days where your new uniforms, ID's and weaponry will be issued to you, wearing of any Londinian Insignia or parts of uniforms is forbidden and will be dealt with in an appropriate manner" The Officers voice was cold and emotionless, not waiting for a response from the Militia the Officer walked off and continued with his inspection of the township...

With a measure of pride the Commandant of the Londinian Legion spoke. "The Londinian Legion will disband to become part of the Kraven Kriegsmarine Volunteer Force. In compliance with your guidelines we will abandon our Londinian insignia and pledge allegiance to the Reich." Pausing, he ripped off the tricolor armband he wore and ordered his men in Volscian to fall in. They ripped off their armbands in turn and fell in to a precise square before the Capitol Police. "The First Volunteers for the Reich's Kriegsmarine are ready to for induction into service. Any members of the Legion who refuse induction will be branded as traitors and dealt with accordingly."

Across the Peninsular Province the Londinian Legion members approached the Reich's newly established recruiting stations to enlist in the KKVF.

An announcement was then made to all citizens within the Peninsular Province to comply.

Announcement from The Kraven SS Regional Headquarters

Recruitment will begin in three days for Volunteers to serve in The Kraven Kriegsmarine Volunteer force, all citizens wishing to volunteer will report to the Kraven SS Regional Headquarters for processing.

All Citizens are required to report all suspicious activity.

Subversive activity is punishable by death under Reich Civil Doctrines.

Kraven Prevails!

[Aldarminia]

Vetalian Peninsular
1430 Standard Imperial Time
Tsakarhelm Consulate

The Consulate had never been so empty in all the years that Vansergeant Tmitri Daratz was posted there as it was now. All the pristine and luxurious rooms were trashed and void of the lives they once held. Tsakarhelm was constructed during Hrothashki I' reign as a an attempt to expand Aldarminian influences in the economic centers of Gholgoth. In order to attract prominent Aldarminian business leaders and industrialists to the areas where these new consulates were being built, Tsakarhelm and its sister complexes were designed as five-star luxury resorts for the rich and powerful. Filled with amenities and services similar to those found in Imperial Residences, places like Tsakarhelm became the favorite diplomatic hubs and stop-by's of the Aldarminian elite. Today, though, Tsakarhelm was the last place any Aldarminian wanted to be, including Tmitri.

Everyone else besides Tmitri and his two platoons of Imperial Vanguards had been evacuated, at least so he thought. Tmitri and his men's original orders were to ensure that the "Burn Everything Secret and Valuable" order was carried out thoroughly, but as he watched two of his privates lead a group of obviously shaken and loaded individuals carrying luggage, he knew that those orders were about to change. His radio buzzed with static for a moment before a familiar, although distorted, voice spoke from it with a clear sense of urgency, "Daratz, come in! Daratz, come in!"

The Vansergeant clicked a the transmit button on his radio and responded, "Hearing you loud and clear, sir. If this is about the leftovers, I am looking at them as I speak. Orders?"

There was an ominous pause after Tmitri let go of the button, and the longer it was, the more it unsettled him. Finally, though, an answer came through, "You are being instructed to secure all remaining VIP's and to secure the Consulate for a foreign incursion. In the event of a possibly hostile force arriving to take over the building, you are to negotiate the safe passage of those VIP's to the Aldarminian embassy in Vetalia Proper. You are explicitly ordered to resist all measures by any force that would place you and/or those VIP's in a detained position. Understood, Vansergeant?"

Holy shit... Tmitri was flustered and did not give an immediate answer, provoking a worried, "Understood!?"

"Yes, sir."

Tmitri had the very uneasy and totally unshakeable feeling that that was going to be his last conversation with anyone on the outside in a long time. Not only was his command and government asking him to negotiate with Kraven forces, they quite clearly ordering him to resist any attempt by those very same Kraven forces to detain him and his entourage of soldiers and aristocrats. Although it was insane to think Tmitri and his two platoons could hold off a Kraven onslaught, he completely understood why he might have to. Tmitri, an ethnic Alngoth, had lived in Gholgoth all of his life, and he knew all too well what it meant to be in Kraven hands. Apparently, his Grand Emperor did not approve of the idea of whoever these people were being left in such a nightmarish position, no matter the cost. The Vansergeant breathed a weary sigh. It was going to be a very long day.

A Private Vladikov approached Tmitri and handed him a stack of files, all of which bore the Imperial Sigil. There were four files for the four individuals that were, for one reason or another, left behind during the evacuation. There was Anizdaya Rechnijh, the middle-aged Chief of Overseas Operations for the Aldarminia-based, international clothing corporation Aebirkraum & Vihc. She was pale with fear. Her feet trembled precariously in her high heels as she struggled to keep her frightened body balanced in the tight-and slightly provoking-business dress. Although she knew her life was teetering on death itself, Anizdaya was actually mostly worried about her children who she had brought along this trip to give them a taste of the world. That taste will probably be bitter to them forever now, she thought as tall, Aldarman kindly relieved her of one of her suitcases. She nodded a silent thanks, but the man paid no attention.

This was too focused on doing whatever he had to to get himself and everyone else out of the developing hellhole that the Peninsular Province had just become. Retired Kommissar, now Chairman on the Executive Directorate of Strovaria-Aldkhaznywrengh Armaments, Vykdor Yshpoloch was already having flash-backs, and this Vansergeant's "keep calm" speech was not helping.

"...and this will all be over shortly. Now, Private Vladikov here is going t-", Tmitri's radio interrupted him by an obviously concerned Corporal Olasven, "Sir! W-w-w-we've got company!"

Tmitri left Vladikov to handle the civilians while he dashed down a flight of stairs and into the lobby of the Tsakarhelm. Just outside the glass facade of the entrance, down the decorated path of the walkway, over the low-lying barricades marking the Consulate's perimeter, and through the front gate, the Vansergeant could see the Kraven force arriving to evict the Aldarminians from land that was supposed to be theirs in the name of diplomacy. Having experienced a good bit of Vetalian culture over the years, Tmitri was desperately hoping that the Vetalians were smart enough to not let this become an overtly hostile takeover on part of the Reich. But... As with anything with the Reich, nothing was ever necessarily safe or sure.

All Tmitri could do was boldly walk out the Consulate doors alongside a squad of his men with a rifle and a megaphone in hands. Praying that the myths that "Reich dogs" could not talk were not true, the Vansergeant spoke into the megaphone, opening up the first direct negotiations ever between Aldarminia and the Reich, "This Vansergeant Tmitri Daratz of the Imperial Vanguard of the Imperial Guard of the Imperial Polyoncarchy of Aldarminia. I, acting as commanding officer of this base of diplomatic operations, wish to open up negotiations with the highest-ranking officer present so that the civilians inside here and my men and I may gain safe passage to our nation's embassy in Vetalia City."

[Dephire]

-Tag-

[Havensky]

A few hours before…

Kraven Held Territory
Vetalian Peninsular
Bogotol (Hab Center 06)

0900 Hours Standard Gothic Time

Lo que viene en torno a

The Rider pulled into the a quiet neighborhood of the city, having taken a diversion of the main road to avoid attention. Two militiamen were walking behind an older woman, and from what the rider could tell, they were giving her trouble. The Rider noticed the rip where a patch might have once been and shabby looking uniform. And the batons…

Hey Lady…. Hey Lady! We’re talking to you!, the taller of the men shouted.

The lady turned around growing a bit pale. She swallowed and put on a brave face. Her hands folded in front of her dress.

Can… can I help you boys?

The shorter man snickered and the taller one spoke again.

See, we’re heading up a new police department… and we need some… donations… That kind of effort take some serious bread… and with you just coming from the bank I think you have some extra cash on hand..

The lady shook her head, But… but I need this to buy groceries! The prices have skyrocke-

The taller man pushed her, Shut up lady! There wouldn’t be a grocery store if it wasn’t for us. Now hand over your donation!

The rider had heard just about enough. He stepped off his bike and walked towards the men still wearing his dark helmet.

The lady said no.

The pair swung their heads around and marched over angrily.

And just who the hell do you think you are?! What’s your name! I’ll teach you to fucking respect the Kriegsmarine!

The shorter man brought his baton high and began to swing it down at the rider’s mid-section. The rider, in one swift solid movement, brought his forearm up to meet it. As the baton collided with the rider’s metallic arm, the wood splintered and shattered - but not before the taller man began to swing his first at the rider’s chin.

In a quick second the rider brought his other hand up to meet the taller man’s fist. The effect was the taller man hitting a brick wall. The rider clamped his metal finger’s around the taller man’s now aching fist. He rotated his arms slowly, twisting the taller man’s arm. Shock was the pair’s initial reaction - then the taller man’s agony.

The Rider spoke quietly.

You are not Kriegsmarine. Real Kriegsmarine would have asked me for my number. Not my name. The Kriegsmarine have no use for names. You are all merely resources - and not very good resources at that.

The taller man struggled to get out from the rider’s grip, but it was of little use.

Do you think for one moment that the Reich would have any use for this woman or her money? The Reich doesn’t value money. You two are merely pretenders whose fate is already sealed. There are four options remaining to you.

The taller man winced in pain.

One: Your superior, 158 or whomever, finds out what an idiot you are and puts a bullet in your head.
Two: Your fellow countrymen kill you in your sleep for all the cruel things you've done as the Reich’s filthy new pet.
Three: You try to escape and get a bullet in the back.
or Four: You cross me again or bother her again and I put a sword through your heart.

Those are your options.

The rider released his grip and the taller man fell to his knees, grasping his shoulder. The shorter man, somewhat recovered from the shock spoke up.

The Reich will help restore our county to glory!

The Rider clenched his fist and looked at the shorter man.

You can say things like that even after seeing them take away your wife?, he said with his voice increasingly seething.

The shorter man looked puzzled, What do you mean? She’s working in the shop on the main drag!. Nobody’s taken her!

The Rider stood up straight and took a step back, as if to realize the clock had been wrong. Without another word, he jumped back on his bike and throttled it hard. The bike screamed in protest, the real wheel spinning in place until the Rider released the break. The bike shot of like a rocket down the street towards the center of town.

The Queen's Red Guard (201st Special Airborne Unit)
Approaching Vetalian Airspace
Region of Gholgoth

0600 Hours Standard Gothic Time

The topside of Airship Carrier Valor opened up as it soared above an increasingly clouded sky. The swordshaped airship was surrounded by six dagger-shaped escort cruisers and several fighter aircraft. Once the rooftop locked in it's open position, twenty-four crimson Growler-Class Attack Variant Helijets rose up. The Growler's rotors, embedded in each wing, giving out a deep constant hum as they tilted forward and moved past the carrier. They formed a double stacked diamond pattern around the topside doors with their gun emplacements pointed outward.

Queen One, Red Guard Six.. You are cleared for departure..

Lieutenant Ariana Chispa turned back in her pilot seat of her bigger Raven-Class Transport Variant Helijet.

Ma'am, We have clearance... we can depart when ready.

Queen Jessica Heart, Gothic Lord and Protector of the Republic, leaned back in her seat and nodded.

Thank you Ariana, let's go. Alert Vetalia that we're coming.

Yes Ma'am

Lt. Chispa turned back in her seat and hit the engines. The wider pure white helijet's double-rotors began to spin and the craft - along with five other Ravens - began to ascend out of the top deck of the airship carrier and into the double-diamond formation. Chispa flicked her thumb and turned on the outbound comm.

Vetalia Air Command... This is Lieutenant Ariana Chispa of the Skybound Republic of Havensky Red Guard. Be advised that Queen Jessica Heart - Sovereign of Gothic Havensky - will be entering your airspace in the next 30 minutes on her way to the Skyan Embassy. An escort would be welcomed, but is not needed. Her Majesty looks forward to speaking with your government regarding the current crisis. Please confirm our transmission...

Jessica chuckled.

The Skybound Republic had not exactly pre-arranged their visit. However, the Skybound Republic was not about to allow their arch-nemesis to gain an additional geographic advantage. It was bad enough having them so close to their west, but having the Reich to the west and the north was something that the government didn't want to have to deal with. In addition, the People of Havensky still held a deep distrust and animosity towards the Reich with last year's war still fresh in their minds.

There was noise coming out of Vetalia and the Reich that this new development had been part of some treaty. They hadn't been able to read the fine print, but the Skybound Republic was fairly certain that there had to be something foul about it. It was decided that Jessica, who had retained her position as Havensky's Secretary of State, would deal with the matter personally - whether Vetalia liked it or not.

The formation of helijets tucked their wings into the fusalage, hiding the rotors. They started to dive just as the jet engines kicked into overdrive quickly bringing them to near supersonic speeds.

Anytime that Jessica Heart went anywhere, she went with an escort. The fact that they were making a surprise visit meant meant that she'd be traveling with a rather large escort. And the escort had gotten chatty.

Hey, you think with this many Growlers we could just take the peninsula ourselves and save everyone a lot of trouble!

And Chispa was not having it.

CUT THE CHATTER BLACKJACK, OR I WILL SHOVE YOUR MIC SO FAR UP YOUR-

Lieutenant!, shouted Jessica. They’re not horses… you can’t just whip them.

Jessica got up from her chair and sat down in the helijet’s co-pilot seat.

Do you want to tell me what’s going on?

Chispa clicked a few more controls on the helijet.

No ma’am

Jessica tilted her head, ¿Quieres hablar en español, entonces? (Do you want to talk in Spanish then?)

Chispa nodded her head, No ma’am, with all due respect - your Spanish is terrible.

Then tell me what’s going on in English..

Chispa hesitated. If she told Jessica where her boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend now, had taken off to - it would get him in some pretty substantial trouble. He was never cleared for duty to begin with, much less authorized to go marching into a hostile zone. If discovered, he could be killed. Worse, he could set off a diplomatic incident and start another war. Telling the Queen was a dangerous proposition. Even if the Queen decided not to divulge the information, she could get in serious trouble for should word break out.

Jessica seemed to pick up on her hesitation and spoke nonchalantly, If you’re worried about a recently nameless knight, I already know. It’s why I decided to come to Vetalia.

Chispa’s draw dropped, What? You knew? Why didn’t you..

I don’t have any legal grounds to hold him. At this point, he might as well be a force of nature. However, he is acting on the side of the angels and my husband and I think his instincts were right on this. Of course, we can’t support him directly - if we were going to do that we might as well declare war now and get it over with. I expect I’ll be doing a lot of talking and not a lot of getting anything done. Kraven’s not likely to hold a long conversation with me and I’m not even sure the Vetalian government knows how to extract themselves from the situation. However… you can do something for the resistance that’s sure to spring up.

What do you mean?

If I were the resistance movement, I’d need friends on the outside. And the best place for them to be would be the capitol. I imagine that there will be people milling about trying to figure out how to help them. Since you won’t be flying me anywhere for awhile, that means you can do some...exploring..

Chispa still looked puzzled.

Ariana, regardless of how you feel towards him right now - that boy doesn't love himself anymore. He is angry, determined, and bloodthirsty. Without help, he's going to make a mistake. We have to keep everything from being on his shoulders and soon. He won't be able to fight this all by himself. He *will* make a mistake. And when he does, it's going to hit him hard. All of his guilt will return. And it's possible that without someone there - he'll dive back into the darkness.


Kraven Held Territory
Vetalian Peninsular
Bogotol (Hab Center 06)

What Comes Around..

"I will ask again, All the women will step forward, This will be the last time I ask." The Officer spoke once more, his voice now put a chill in the air, every woman in the square stepped forwards and with another nod from the Officer, the Capitol Police went to work…

A noise caught the attention of The Officer, he turned towards the sound, a distant rumbling, a distant sound that was growing closer, the soft rumble of a 12 cylinder motorcycle engine...

CRACK!

And was met with a single bullet between the two red eyes of the Officer’s goggles.

The crowd didn’t have time to gasp before the roar of the bike filled the village square. The other Capitol Police Troopers had just enough time to see Tycho riding down the street balancing the rifle on the right handbar before clicking a button on the bike with his off hand. Two smoke grenades launched from the front of the bike. The grenades were still airborne when the troopers opened fire. The crowd could see the rider hit the accelerator and bring the bike up on it’s rear wheel before the grenades went off.

BOOM BOOM - Psshhhhhhhhhhh

Smoke quickly covered the area and the crowd quickly got down on the ground. The Capitol Police Troopers, for which no amount of smoke would bother them in their masks, simply continued to fire as visibility decreased and the roar of the motorcycle flew past.

CRASH

A boom could be heard across the square. The Troopers turned and began to fire in the direction of the sound of the crash.

RATA-TA-TAT-RATA-TAT-TAT-RATA-TAT--pop-pop-pop-RATA-TAT--shhhhhhnkkkkknkt-RATA-TAT-TAT

The smoke had concealed all actions within the square, but if one listened carefully they could hear the distinct thud of a bodies hitting the ground amidst the gunfire.

RATA-TA-TAT-TA-TAT-pop-pop-TAT-TA-TAT-TA-TAT-shkkkkkknnnnkkt-TAT-TA-TAT--pop-pop-RATA-TA-TAT-shheeeennkkkkt

The sounds were dying down and the smoke was clearing. A single Capitol Police Trooper stood alone amidst the bodies of his men. A blank stare crossing his face as he awaited for a response from his relay unit. He turned around towards the bike. It had been driven into a mailbox. The rifle thrown off to the side. The trooper walked towards the bike.

Underneath, the Rider rolled out from under the truck and lept to his feet. His heavy pistol was back in his holster and he held the sword with one hand as he sprinted towards the trooper.

The trooper remained expressionless as he turned around and raised his weapon. The rider's helmet gleamed in the morning light as he thrust the sword straight into the trooper's chest.

Even in death, but the relay had a chance to deliver a single message back to the rider.

Resistance...is...futile..

Even with his helmet on, the crowd could see The Rider's rage. The Rider pulled the sword out and put it back in the holster.

He looked up at the group of women.

Run. Hide. While you still can.

With that, The Rider walked over to his bike picking it up and turning it upright. He recovered his rifle, than drove off - disappearing again.

[Vetalia]

Vetalia/Havensky Post
First time note - since this is the first time I'm using an organizing header, this doesn't mean it's closed between us, just this is who it involves for clarity.

The Queen's Red Guard (201st Special Airborne Unit)
Approaching Vetalian Airspace
Region of Gholgoth

0600 Hours Standard Gothic Time

The topside of Airship Carrier Valor opened up as it soared above an increasingly clouded sky. The swordshaped airship was surrounded by six dagger-shaped escort cruisers and several fighter aircraft. Once the rooftop locked in it's open position, twenty-four crimson Growler-Class Attack Variant Helijets rose up. The Growler's rotors, embedded in each wing, giving out a deep constant hum as they tilted forward and moved past the carrier. They formed a double stacked diamond pattern around the topside doors with their gun emplacements pointed outward.

Queen One, Red Guard Six.. You are cleared for departure..

Lieutenant Ariana Chispa turned back in her pilot seat of her bigger Raven-Class Transport Variant Helijet.

Ma'am, We have clearance... we can depart when ready.

Queen Jessica Heart, Gothic Lord and Protector of the Republic, leaned back in her seat and nodded.

Thank you Ariana, let's go. Alert Vetalia that we're coming.

Yes Ma'am

Lt. Chispa turned back in her seat and hit the engines. The wider pure white helijet's double-rotors began to spin and the craft - along with five other Ravens - began to ascend out of the top deck of the airship carrier and into the double-diamond formation. Chispa flicked her thumb and turned on the outbound comm.

Vetalia Air Command... This is Lieutenant Ariana Chispa of the Skybound Republic of Havensky Red Guard. Be advised that Queen Jessica Heart - Sovereign of Gothic Havensky - will be entering your airspace in the next 30 minutes on her way to the Skyan Embassy. An escort would be welcomed, but is not needed. Her Majesty looks forward to speaking with your government regarding the current crisis. Please confirm our transmission...

Vetalia City, Vetalia
Praetorial Palace
0600 Hours SGT

Drinking Again

The Praetorial Bedroom phone rang with a jarring, harsh whine. Vasily Fyodorovich Fyodorov rose with reluctance and turned toward to the phone. It was still dark, he could tell because the lights of Vetalia City still illuminated the windows to his left. Glancing around the chamber with bleary eyes, he fumbled for the bedside lamp only to see the empty bottles of gin resting on his desk from the night before. A slight panic hit him before he turned to see there was a full one on the nightstand along with a few packs of cigarettes. The phone then went silent.

There is a God... he thought with a sick glee as he poured himself a drink, holding the bottle shakily over the empty glass. Too careful to risk straight gin in the morning or the vomiting it would surely induce these days, he cut it carefully with the decanter of water that had been thoughtfully placed by some maid the night before. Sipping slowly, he paused to light a cigarette and stare at the mirror. A wave of brief nausea hit him on the first sip but passed, the warmth of the gin slowly working its way to his belly and beyond.

The smoke drifted lazily towards the air filter in the ceiling as he stared. The room was disheveled and smelled of stale smoke, sweat and alcohol.

Although he could never consider himself handsome back in the days before this all happened he was certainly average. But now, not so much. He looked gaunt, sickly, with dark bags under his eyes and thick stubble from a couple days' of not shaving. He didn't care. Everything is lost anyways. Feeling the warmth of the gin and the happiness it brought, he decided to turn on the radio for some music.

"It might be a good idea for the maid to bring another bottle and some ice". He laughed to nobody but himself and dialed the service number. Nobody saw much of him anymore, not since the Proconsul had betrayed Vetalia to the Reich and Maria had fled. In his absence, the Vice Praetor and newly elevated Proconsul had assumed responsibility for his roles.

He drank.

Unforgettable

Vetalian Air Command had vetted the arriving aircraft and the Vice Praetor had given the approval for them to land. A delegation of the Vetalian government was assembled, with the Praetor absent due to illness. They eagerly awaited the arrival of Queen and had made appropriate arrangements for her arrival.

[Havensky]

The Queen's Red Guard (201st Special Airborne Unit
Vetalia City, Vetalia
Near Skyan Embassy
0632 Hours SGT

Acknowledged Air Command, Queen One / Red Guard making final approach to Skyan Embassy.

Ariana Chispa took her thumb off the outbound comm, flipped a switch and gave orders to the rest of the Red Guard Flight Group.

All craft: Unlock foils and proceed to rotary speed on my mark. Amber Squadron, scout ahead in single line formation. Crimson, Ruby, Scarlet Squadrons - Maintain double diamond formation until we reach the Skyan Embassy. All units... rotary speed in four...three...two...one...MARK

All at once, the wing covers on each craft receded into the wing exposing the rotors. The helijets descended slightly until the twin-rotors spun up to full power. A low growl filled the air as Amber Squadron raced ahead of the air group as they entered Vetalian air space. They entered the city at a low altitude and bystanders could see the bright red helijets moving across the city in the morning light.

Skyan Embassy, Queen One: Do you copy? Red Guard requesting clearance to land.

Queen One, Skyan Embassy: Good copy, you are cleared for approach at Landing Pad One. Ground Transportation Standing by.

Copy Embassy, I have the ball...

Chispa brought the Raven-Class aircraft down inside the high walls of the Skyan Embassy. Almost immediately, two other helijets landed along each side opening their doors and allowing the Queen's Guard to form a wall between Chispa's helijet and the armored cars waiting for them. Queen Jessica Heart quickly boarded the armored car and headed for the Praetorial Palace.

Meanwhile, Chispa powered down her helijet and began the complicated process of fitting twenty-eight helijets inside the confines of the Embassy.

Kraven Held Territory
Vetalian Peninsular
Bogotol (Hab Center 06)

The rider stirred in his sleep. His helmet was off and to his side revealing his bright silver hair. He stirred again, realizing he was awake and quickly donned the helmet again quickly looking around to see where he was.

He found himself in an old dusty garage. His shirt was off and his back bandaged. His weapons were still in their holster and his bike - now banged up from battle was sitting up.

I see you're awake.., called a voice in the door.

The rider started to stand, then halted mid-rise.

Don't try to get up too fast.. the sedatives hadn't worn off.

The Rider thought the voice sounded familiar and then realized that she was the older woman that he had aided form the two militia. He sat back down, despite his uneasiness about waking up from sedation. The woman sat down next to him.

Hello, my name is Natalya. I'm a doctor. You were badly injured from before. Next time, try not to land on your back when you jump off your motorbike. You also had a fever, probably from exhaustion. I gave you a sedative so you would sleep until healed.

The Rider tried sitting up, taking the water offered to him.

How long have I been sleeping?

Two days.

TWO DAYS!? What's happened since then?

The doctor told the rider in painful detail of what had transpired. When she was finished, the Rider let out a primal yell. Anger and rage filled his core and he leapt to his feet, swearing an oath to kill every Reich solder left in the village.

Wait.., Natalya urged.. We have a plan..

Vetalia City, Vetalia
Capitol District
0745 Hours SGT

Lt. Chispa Ariana, now dressed in civilian clothes, walked into a coffee shop near the capitol. Civilian clothes was probably a relative term. She was dressed in a black leather flight jacket, grey t-shirt, dark denim jeans and combat boots. Her pixie cut hair was practical for her profession. She was constantly wearing a helmet and it was just easier.

However, no sooner had the bell rang signaling the closing of the coffee shop doors that the entire room was staring at her. The women in the coffee shop were all wearing knee length dresses with their hair perfectly done up. Pearls, not dogtags, were seen around their necks and almost all of them wore wedding rings.

The few gentlemen in the shop were dressed in suits, hats in hand and their jaws on the floor. Few women in the capitol wore pants, much less had hair shorter than some men.

Chispa walked up to the counter where a young lady was taking orders.

Good morning ma'am! Um... Swell jacket! What can I get you?

A large black eye please

Cream or sugar?

No thanks, just the two shots of espresso.

[Vetalia]

Vetalia/Havensky

The Queen's Red Guard (201st Special Airborne Unit
Vetalia City, Vetalia
Near Skyan Embassy
0632 Hours SGT

Acknowledged Air Command, Queen One / Red Guard making final approach to Skyan Embassy.

Ariana Chispa took her thumb off the outbound comm, flipped a switch and gave orders to the rest of the Red Guard Flight Group.

All craft: Unlock foils and proceed to rotary speed on my mark. Amber Squadron, scout ahead in single line formation. Crimson, Ruby, Scarlet Squadrons - Maintain double diamond formation until we reach the Skyan Embassy. All units... rotary speed in four...three...two...one...MARK

All at once, the wing covers on each craft receded into the wing exposing the rotors. The helijets descended slightly until the twin-rotors spun up to full power. A low growl filled the air as Amber Squadron raced ahead of the air group as they entered Vetalian air space. They entered the city at a low altitude and bystanders could see the bright red helijets moving across the city in the morning light.

Skyan Embassy, Queen One: Do you copy? Red Guard requesting clearance to land.

Queen One, Skyan Embassy: Good copy, you are cleared for approach at Landing Pad One. Ground Transportation Standing by.

Copy Embassy, I have the ball...

Chispa brought the Raven-Class aircraft down inside the high walls of the Skyan Embassy. Almost immediately, two other helijets landed along each side opening their doors and allowing the Queen's Guard to form a wall between Chispa's helijet and the armored cars waiting for them. Queen Jessica Heart quickly boarded the armored car and headed for the Praetorial Palace.

Meanwhile, Chispa powered down her helijet and began the complicated process of fitting twenty-eight helijets inside the confines of the Embassy.

Vetalia City, Vetalia
Praetorial Palace
0645 Hours SGT

Praetorial Secretary Liydia Repina had been tasked with the job of summoning the Praetor; she had drawn the short straw in the break room and now had to deal with whatever was to come. Hurrying along the corridor, her heels clacked loudly against the marble floor as she approached the Praetor's personal quarters. Hesitantly, she raised her hand to knock on the door.

A knock at the door startled the Praetor from his reverie. He lunged from his bed to cut the radio and listen to the intercom.

"What do you want!?" a voice slurred from the other side.

"Praetor, I'm sorry to interrupt...but Queen Heart is en route, she wants to meet with you". Liydia hoped she wouldn't be asked to come in.
"What for, can't she see that I'm busy..." A sickening laugh followed, the drunkenness tinged with a sardonic tone.
"She wants to meet with you personally, Praetor."
"Why, the shit's already hit the fan and it's all lost. Wait a minute, I know your voice..."
"I'm sorry, what do you-"

He slurred further, pausing to take a gulp of a drink that was clearly audible over the intercom. "Liydia Repida, VMB# 157-18. I know all about you, grew up in Petrovsk. Vetalian-Londinan stock, it makes you quite the looker, you know that...sharp blonde hair, smooth legs, that dress that shows just enough to keep the menfolk interested..." he laughed again, a lecherous glee filling his voice..."those Londinians knew how to give a woman a nice set of tits, always liked yours if I must admit. Must be in your blood."

Liydia's spine crawled hearing this. But retaining her composure she spoke.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what this has to do with-"
"It doesn't have anything to do with anything, dear. Maybe you'd like to come inside and show me what you've got to offer." The entrance to his quarters unlocked with a click.

The intercom went silent after this. One of the Praetorian Guards approached, having been summoned as soon as the Praetor's bedroom lock was activated. "Ms. Repida, I think it's best if you leave now. The Praetor is in no condition to meet with you or foreign delegations due to his illness.."

She looked at the man, relieved and spoke. "Thank you, I was afraid I'd be in there.". The Praetorian Guardsman spoke with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I'm afraid I'll be in there every day". She shook the guard's hand and lit a cigarette, the smoke trailing behind her dress.

Kraven Held Territory
Vetalian Peninsular
Bogotol (Hab Center 06)

The rider stirred in his sleep. His helmet was off and to his side revealing his bright silver hair. He stirred again, realizing he was awake and quickly donned the helmet again quickly looking around to see where he was.

He found himself in an old dusty garage. His shirt was off and his back bandaged. His weapons were still in their holster and his bike - now banged up from battle was sitting up.

I see you're awake.., called a voice in the door.

The rider started to stand, then halted mid-rise.

Don't try to get up too fast.. the sedatives hadn't worn off.

The Rider thought the voice sounded familiar and then realized that she was the older woman that he had aided form the two militia. He sat back down, despite his uneasiness about waking up from sedation. The woman sat down next to him.

Hello, my name is Natalya. I'm a doctor. You were badly injured from before. Next time, try not to land on your back when you jump off your motorbike. You also had a fever, probably from exhaustion. I gave you a sedative so you would sleep until healed.

The Rider tried sitting up, taking the water offered to him.

How long have I been sleeping?

Two days.

TWO DAYS!? What's happened since then?

The doctor told the rider in painful detail of what had transpired. When she was finished, the Rider let out a primal yell. Anger and rage filled his core and he leapt to his feet, swearing an oath to kill every Reich solder left in the village.

Wait.., Natalya urged.. We have a plan..

Dr. Natalya Kadnikova was a battlefield medicine doctor from the start of her career. She had enlisted with the Vetalian Army as an intern during the joint Vetalian-Londinian Cazelian campaign and had treated many during the operations against the resistance. Whether their operations were justified was neither here nor there, that was a different time and now she had a new patient to treat

[Vetalia]

Vetalia City, Vetalia
Capitol District
0745 Hours SGT

Lt. Chispa Ariana, now dressed in civilian clothes, walked into a coffee shop near the capitol. Civilian clothes was probably a relative term. She was dressed in a black leather flight jacket, grey t-shirt, dark denim jeans and combat boots. Her pixie cut hair was practical for her profession. She was constantly wearing a helmet and it was just easier.

However, no sooner had the bell rang signaling the closing of the coffee shop doors that the entire room was staring at her. The women in the coffee shop were all wearing knee length dresses with their hair perfectly done up. Pearls, not dogtags, were seen around their necks and almost all of them wore wedding rings.

The few gentlemen in the shop were dressed in suits, hats in hand and their jaws on the floor. Few women in the capitol wore pants, much less had hair shorter than some men.

Chispa walked up to the counter where a young lady was taking orders.

Good morning ma'am! Um... Swell jacket! What can I get you?

A large black eye please

Cream or sugar?

No thanks, just the two shots of espresso.

Outside the windows of the coffee shop hundreds of cars went by, their tail fins and chrome glinting on the windows of the cafe. Cigarette smoke was the most obnoxious component of Vetalian culture and it filled the air of the small coffee shop Chispa visited.

"Two shots of espresso, golly, you must need a real pick me up! Throw in a bagel with cream cheese on me!" She laughed as she directed her employees to prepare the drink for their visitor. As the drink was prepared she leaned towards this unexpected arrival.

"You aren't from here, are you? Don't sweat it, you'll stand out like a sore thumb. Most people can't nail down a Vetalian accent on their first try, let alone pull off your...unconventional appearance. However, there are a bunch of Rocketdyne boys over in the corner...might want to talk with them."

[Dephire]

Vetalia City, Vetalia
Capitol District
0750 Hours SGT

He walked up to the counter with his boots thudding loudly against the shop's floor. He wore black pants and a collared, long sleeve black shirt. His blood-red trench coat flicked slightly as he walked, and was trimmed with a dark steel gray color. His skin was pale and hair purely silver, and was tied in a pony tail that went several inches below his shoulders. His irises were of steel gray in color, giving him an aged appearance. The most unusual feature of this man were the multiple surgical scars upon his once tan face. He watched in silence as the Havensky lieutenant moved from the counter while he made his way through the shop to the counter.

"I would like tea, please." His voice gave away that he was in his late teens. "Stronger the better." The woman politely smiled. She tried to not look at the dozens of scars on his face. The man seemed to come with a singular purpose, or perhaps he was just a tough man all-around.

"Sure thing! Anything in that or just plain?"

He look her dead in the eye and smiled, "Plain, please." The voice was strong in an accent foreign to all of Gholgoth. It was exotic and inviting. Some heads were turned from the patrons as they wanted to take a peak at the Dephirian Godsend General, Ki'lan. As he waited, he watched the Havensky woman. He was wanting to speak to her, but remained silent. His mission was surveillance, nothing more.

It had been over a month since his Emperor sent him back to Hell's Gate for re-education. Normally if one would try to go against orders of an Emperor, they would die on the spot. Tristan showed him mercy. What no one knew was what happened once he was taken into custody.

"Here you go!" The lady smiled brightly as she handed the Godsend his tea.

"Thank you," He handed her a thick gold coin. "Keep the change." He winked and walked away into a corner, where he sat down and continued his observations of Chispa. She was not the target... Not his target at least.

[United World Order]

Town of Belgorod, Kravenite Occupied Vetalia

The reports of automatic rifles in the distance was nothing new to Jacob as he crept through a abandoned home that had been previously ransacked of any valuables. Jacob held his assault rifle tightly as he moved through the house, gently opening doors with his boot as he'd clear the entire house within three minutes. Exiting the house he checked both ways observing if the street was clear before jogging across into the front lawn of another house. The street was at the moment in the hands of the resistance which was mostly composed of Vetalian soldiers who instead of surrendering , organized groups with others and decided to fight the occupation. Jacob had lived in Vetalia for quite some time as a lone mercenary from the United World Order. Private Military Companies were not subjected to government control or surveillance as they were made up primarily of military veterans who's love of military service led them to sign up for PMC organizations.

Most of the resistance in general were native born Vetalians who spoke Vetalian Russian. Jacob luckily had spent time learning the language and in the current situation he was now in, he was glad he took that time to learn the local language spoke in Vetalia. Jacob turned his head to the end of the street as shouting was heard and then the cracks of gunfire. Jacob went into a crouch position as he got a view on what was going on, the KKVF were moving in on the residential neighborhood as the resistance formed up to meet them as a firefight had now broken out in the suburbs.

Jacob raised his assault rifle as he tried to get a good shot on one of the KKVF soldiers, the resistance fighters were moving back towards Jacob's position. As the KKVF solders advanced, the resistance took up new positions and were now firing at them. Jacob fired off a few rounds and had actually downed one of the approaching enemy. The enemy continued to advance firing as they did but again and again their men dropped like flies in the street and front lawns of homes. The sudden launch of a rocket launcher would impact the side of a house as debris and dust would kick up. The KKVF were beginning to realize that their offensive was not working and begun to retreat back down the street as the resistance fighters continued firing at them, downing several more of them as they ran away.

"Bastard traitors, soon we will slaughter them all" a resistance fighter scowled as he threw a empty magazine on the ground and replaced it with a fresh new magazine. The resistance fighters now begun to trickle back down the street as they scavenged the dead for supplies as they knew the KKVF had better equipment since they were being armed by the Reich. The bodies of the fallen KKVF were now being dragged off the street and placed in a backyard.

Jacob sighed as he slipped his rifle's magazine off and checked it, he wasn't empty just yet and slapped it back into his rifle as he stood up. He heard rumors that the resistance was planning on trying to take the town's square soon. Jacob was weary of these rumors, he knew that at any time the Capital Police could show up and utterly decimate the resistance in Belgorod. He hoped this would not happen today as he walked down the street.

[Vetalia]

"Thank you," He handed her a thick gold coin. "Keep the change." He winked and walked away into a corner, where he sat down and continued his observations of Chispa. She was not the target... Not his target at least.

"Oh, well, thank you Mister! Have a nice day!" With a cheerful grin she sent off her most recent customer with his cup of tea.

Alexandra paused after he walked away and looked closely at the coin she was given. Dephiran issued, for sure, marking another strange visitor to her coffee shop. Not sure how she would exchange the coin for Vetalian rubles, but that was neither here nor there...the presence of so many foreigners was strange enough.

There were a lot of them these days, indeed there were more than she had ever dealt with save for the days when the Londinian forces were in town. They were good tippers she thought. Pausing to play with the coin she thought maybe these guys are even better.

She wondered just who he was and what they wanted. The Rocketdyne regulars at her cafe looked at him intensely, maybe he had something to do with them.

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

((ooc: Edit.))

IC:

He had stood at the back of the crowd for a long while: watching the tear-stricken faces, listening to the plees, the begging...the sounds of the end of a war that had never really begun. And he hated it: hated the barbarism that 1 man could show another, hated the cold indifference of the capital police who saw only territory and workers and profits rather than a homeland...people and lives, hated the crude way in which perfectly respectable-looking Vetalians had rushed to betray the land they called home: all of it...every single second he spent in that place drove hot daggers of fury into his freedom-loving, Vakolicci soul.

But now, the man couldn't prelong his vigil: it was his turn to progress into one of the never-ending lines that stretched across the square towards a table. He cut a respectable picture: granted he was extremely old, with white hair allowed to fall loosely yet controlled around his shoulders in the Celari style. His white and green dress uniform, which he had deliberately taken out of the wardrobe to atempt to talk with the kkvf people about such things as letting him return home (or if worst came to worst of not wanting the Haven's well-regarded navy to come in from the same direction that they had just done) was well-pressed, and his boots clicked as he walked: all in all, he appeared to be one of the more amiable sort of retired military officers. This was half-right: he was a farely amiable man, who preferred peace over doing his job any day: the problem was, Lord-Admiral Branislav Ivanovic had never retired. 82 years old now, yet he had never retired.

He walked slowly, but surely towards the man with the laptop, placing his arms confidently by his side. At this point in his life, all his death meant to him would be seing his wife again...his family...most of the people he had loved: oh, and it probably meant tat more blood would spill when the destress panel in the dress uniform he was wearing failed to detect a heartbeat and transmitted that the well-decorated admiral was now dead to the Haven.

"Name,"
"My Name, including all titles," he deliberately spoke slowly letting every inclination of a Vakolicci accent show, "Is Branislav Ivanovic, Lord-Admiral of the Vakolicci fleets, Protector of the seas."
"We've had occupation then," he said.
Ivanovic leant back to catch the last rays from the darkening sky as he waited for the man to look at his long list. As it seemed to be taking a while, he begun to chat idly.
"Look. I'm not from here. I'm on holiday from the Haven, so how does this work? If I give you lots of money, and tell you a military secret, does that mean that you let me go home? I hope it does, I've got things to do at home you know, for example I've got to try and sort out a civil war in a more voletile province. You know how it is I'm sure, when tyranical rulers go to far and annoy the local populus. So what happens now?"
He waited for his fait to be pronounced.

[Vetalia]

Saratov, Peninsular Province, Vetalia
Suvopovskiy Boulevard
2059 SGT


Three weeks after the initial invasion...

A solitary caravan of five vehicles moved slowly through the darkened streets of Saratov, their headlights illuminating the darkened and empty streets that had been full of life mere weeks before. They were an unusual sight these days, not the APCs of the Capitol Police but rather a group of uniformly black, tailfined luxury cars with deeply tinted windows. In the cars were the members of what was to be the Provisional Authority, a group of Vetalian collaborators who had been tasked with further organizing the occupation and integrating it as a formal territory of the Reich.

The former Proconsul of State of the Republic of Vetalia, now merely Dimitri Genchev, sat in the first car along with two officers of the KKVF and his driver. In the following cars were an assortment of his hand-picked staff, KKVF soldiers on security detail and several representatives from corporations within Vetalia who were tasked with integrating their industrial facilities and negotiating economic cooperation agreements with the Reich. Their names and responsibilities were as of yet unknown to Dmitri beyond knowing they had received their orders from "higher up".

There were no women.

Their arrangements across the border had been arranged during the preliminary negotiations in the Reich and Dimitri was pleased to see everything was proceeding as smoothly as possible. The lights glinted off of their chrome detailing and bumpers, briefly illuminating the occasional broken windows or burned-out buildings that were all too common in Saratov. Once the jewel of Peninsular Province, it was now the central base of operations for the KKVF and the Reich. The occasional patrol was the only evidence of life at this time of night, its population tightly controlled by the curfews and rationing systems implemented as the pilot programs slowly spreading outward across the province.

The darkness and silence failed to conceal the more recent signs of the occupation's actions, however.

The first he sighted after rolling down his window to dispose of a cigarette was a decomposing corpse strung from a lamppost by the Capitol Police. He could no longer determine the age or sex of the corpse. The other was a small group of bodies riddled with baton blows and a single shot to the head, the handiwork of the KKVF. It must have been recent work, only limited numbers of firearms had been issued to any of its units so far even in Saratov. Signs written in a harsh, threatening script listed out their alleged "crimes" for any who passed to see, at least until the bodies were removed and destroyed by the Sanitary Service of the KKVF.

He recalled again the Capitol Police during his visit to the Reich and was displeased at the behavior of the KKVF; he'd heard from his Reich handlers of the brutalities against civilians in the occupied territories, from rape and torture to extortion and contraband smuggling. Indeed, many of the units out in the hinterlands behaved more like roving gangs than an arm of the Provisional Authority. It was highly inefficient and threatened to waste valuable resources both human and material that could be better applied towards integrating the territory into the Reich.

That'll have to change... he turned to look at the officers who rode with him. Ex-Vetalian military, well-trained and disciplined, the only difference their uniforms and whom they swore allegiance to. He of course downplayed the fact that they were betraying their first oath to the Republic, but then again, so had he...but that was neither here nor there. As they proceeded down the empty boulevard, he watched one of the Sanitary Service teams at work gathering what appeared to be water samples from a hydrant. Their unmistakable white uniforms were a stark contrast to the bleakness around them and one that made Dmitri uneasy.

He didn't know where they had originated other than that during the early days of the occupation a number of individuals from the Province's medical and public health establishment had collaborated with the Reich and Londinian Militia to restore order, and knew even less about who they were or what their ultimate intentions and role were. What he did know was that his KKVF associates were suspicious of them and their motives, viewing them as an alien component grafted on to their organization. There had been rumors he'd heard

His driver interrupted any further thought on the matter. Looking out through the windshield, he saw a series of guard posts, concertina wire and sandbags blocking further passage. In the distance, the road narrowed as it proceeded up towards a large structure built into the edge of one of the hills that overlooked the Saratov coastline. It was brightly lit in stark contrast to much of what he had seen so far.

"Sir, we're approaching the perimeter of the Restricted Zone. Should I proceed with identification and notify them of your arrival?"
"Yes." Dmitri stared ahead, not certain of what to expect next.

[Havensky]

[OCC:

The flashback events all take place prior to the Genchev's arrival. Also, I've given Maria some additional abilities than previously described in the RP. V, if this is not-good - let me know and I'll edit. I assumed she had good attention to detail and observation skills being in the position where she's at.

]

Ghost Riders in the Sky

Outside Hab Centre 06
Kraven Occupied Territory
00:13 Standard Gothic Time

An old cowboy went ridin out one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way

The two vehicles were the only living things on the road outside of 'Hab Centre 06'. A single truck and a lone motorcycle riding out about fifty meters head. It was pitch black with neither vehicle running headlights. With any luck, they would reach their destination unmolested.

Yippie i ohhh ohh ohh
Yippie i aye ye ye
Ghost riders in the sky

What plan? The last time I checked you're own protectors had turned against you., asked The Rider.

If you really believed that, would you have really come to help us?

The Rider gave the nurse a sour look from behind his mask.

Who says I'm here to help you?

You stopped those thugs from beating me... And while you didn't realize it, you saved the life of my daughter from being carted away like cattle. You may not have come to help us, but now your fate is tied with ours. The resistance is looking to you now. We took your advice and hid. It worked. Those who didn't heed the warning, were not as lucky.

Inside the truck, tucked away in crates, several women and children of Hab Centre 06 huddled together against the cold.

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred
Their shirts all soaked with sweat

You're Skyan arn't you?

Ariana Chispa turned to face a young attractive woman in her twenties. She was less dolled up then some of the other female patrons, but perhaps she didn't need all that much. Chispa could see the sleepless nights under her eyes even as her hair had a certain curly bounce to it.

Yes, replied Chispa acknowledging it was probably pointless to deny it, How did you know?

The woman put on a brave face and smiled. She was shy and spoke quietly - as if she was still finding her feet.

[i]I'm good with details. I had to be... in my old job.. I was a secretary for a... a high ranking official. You see, your skin is golden brown and you have a latin accent. There's no accent like that in Gholgoth. And I can tell by the way you walk that you're military. Women here don't march like you do.

The woman in the dress took a breath feeling a bit more confident.

You're wearing a jacket, even though it's summer out. You don't seem uncomfortable at all, so you must be used to wearing a jacket. You're wearing a computer watch, but not one of those fashionable ones. You're wearing something that won't break. You keep looking around - even now - as if to check everything. If I were to guess, you're a military pilot. And a veteran at that. Everyone's putting on a brave face, but you can tell everyone's afraid. Even the out-of-towners are having a cow with the Reich so close and you're acting like it's Tuesday.

Everyone at the Capitol thinks the Skyans are really kookie for sending Queen Heart here. You all flew pretty low, so I heard you arrive this morning. And a few hours later, here you are getting loads of caffeine. You must have flew all night.

Is that about right?

Chispa didn't know what to think. She didn't realize she was being that obvious. Then again, the lady had said she was good with details. She never imagined she'd be that good. She stuck out her hand.

Lieutenant Ariana Chispa, Queen's Guard. I suspect your talents are wasted as a secretary.

The young lady shook her hand and smiled..

Well gee... thanks. My name is Maria Chersakova... and we could use your help.

The driver of the truck followed the motorcycle. Sweat gripped his hands and the night vision goggles he had didn't really fit correctly. His hands were unsure behind the wheel and he didn't understand how the motorcycle's rider could drive so confidently through the moonless night.

Dr. Natalya Kadnikova walked out with The Rider to the city square. As The Rider walked into the city square, he spotted the bodies handing in the gallows. Natalya thought she could hear the rider's knuckles crack as he clinched his fist. As they walked past more of the damage, she could see the rider shake slightly.

Natalya had seen veterans before whose memories of combat haunted him. She assumed the stranger must be the same way. She would have advised against going out so soon, but he had insisted that he see what had happened for himself.

But it was the burned out husks of houses, with bodies still inside, that broke The Rider. He fell to his knees in front of an ashen house and began to scream with rage.

Natalya quickly rushed to his side trying to comfort him, but he was inconsolable.

Slowly, the rider regained his composure and uttered a solemn promise.

They...will...all...BURN...

The truck and the motorcycle slowed down as the dirt road they were on began to curve wildly. The isolated road was far off the beaten path from VI-83, but close to where they needed to be.

'if you wanna save your soul from hell a-ridin on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride
Tryin to catch the devil's herd across these endless skies

We're forming a resistance. Sergei Golodvayev has a cousin in the capitol that's pulling together support. We are too weak to fight the Reich directly - but we must try to get the women and children out. If they stay, they'll be stolen away and we'll lose them forever. We're building a network of people to sneak them out of the peninsula. But they need an escort. Somebody who can fight off trouble. We need you.

The truck driver struggled to keep up with the bike. He started muttering a prayer as he swerved around the curve.

Yippie i ohhh oh oh
Yippie i aye ye ye

Queen Jessica Heart was sitting comfortably in the conference room when Liydia Repida walked into the room. She could tell that she was visibly shaken. Jessica rose and the two Skyan Legionaries went to attention.

I apologize, but the Praetor is very ill and will be unable to meet today. I can arrange a meeting with the Procounsel and the Vice Praetor later today.

Jessica walked over to Liydia and placed a hand on her shoulder.

That's ok, I understand. I'm sure the Procounsel must be under an immense amount of stress. I would be happy to meet with the Vice Praetor or the Procounsel whenever they're ready. I understand that it's a difficult time for everyone. I'm sure your team has been working extra hours given the crisis. If it helps, some of my embassy staff would be available to help with some of your workload. I have more than enough staff to take care of things on my end.

[Dephire]

Occupation Zone Border
Fourteen Hours After Control Transition

"Present identification paperwork." The voice was cold and electronically enhanced, responding to the next person in line. The man approached the window where a uniformed man bearing the twin hammers sat. "I said present identification paperwork!" He repeated.

The man approached cautiously. His white hair was tied up into a long pony tail. He was wearing a red trench coat with dark steel gray trim. when he reached the window, he gave a brief smile to the guard and handed over a small card. "I am here on orders, and you are making quite the unpleasant first impression."

The soldier looked over the card, then returned it with a strong rejection. "Identify yourself."

Ki'lan frowned with overwhelming annoyance, "You obviously either do not know who I am, or your Relay sensors are malfunctioning." He leaned in closer to the window, "Now, I will be nice and order you to let me through. Otherwise, things will be getting very unpleasant for you."

The soldier seemed to pause for a few moments. Ki'lan could tell that he was reaching out to the Reich for facial recognition. "Identity not accessible. Access denied. Security forces have been alerted. You will comply!"

"Gee, do you really have to make a scene?" Ki'lan withdrew slightly as he heard the pounding of jackboots in the near distance. "Ragnarok, please give him our identification..."

"My pleasure!" It was too late to defend against the strike, but once Ki'lan gave the order, his trench coat formed a thin needle-like blade that pierced through the window and into the brain of the soldier. From there, Ragnarok provided a quick data transfer to the man.

"I am the Crimson Shadow, Officer Siegfried Hansolft. How dare you interfere with my orders!" Ki'lan was seething with anger as blood and brain oozed from the soldier's wound. The gate opened just as a dozen soldiers from the Reich poured through.

"Halt!" The lead trooper rose his rifle, aiming the barrel at Ki'lan's heart. "What happened here?"

Ki'lan looked back to the deceased soldier behind the window, "Defective unit. His identification processing ability was corrupted. Here!" He handed the lead trooper his identification papers. "You shall see everything is in order, soldier."

The lead trooper took the papers and read them over.

Name: Siegfried Hansolft
Alias(es): Crimson Shadow, Red Death
Other Known Name: Ki'lan (Skragg)
Occupation: Senior Officer of the Interior
Birthplace: *******

The list of credentials went on. Much of it was manufactured by Ki'lan's new master, but as soon as the lead trooper began reading, he was quickly being sent an encrypted message from the Reich to believe anything on the paperwork. Ki'lan was now to be known as the Crimson Shadow and his name within Kraven was Siegfried Hansolft. However, there was no 'Department of the Interior' within Kraven. The trooper would be unable to question Ki'lan, as the orders through the Relay were commanding him to look the other way. The man in red before him was to be a ghost.

"It all checks out." The trooper eventually concluded. "We shall replace the defect immediately! Please carry on, sir!"

Ki'lan gave a nod to the soldier and walked through the gate. He was now on the road to Vetalia proper.


Vetalia City
Coffee Shoppe

His tea had long disappeared into his stomach. It was pleasant to the man. He watched the Havensky pilot for several minutes before eventually getting up and walking out the door.

"She is not the target, but she may know the target's location..." Ragnarok whispered to him.

"Yes, I know. We will just simply wait for her outside." He opened the door.

"Please come again!" The lady yelled as he left.

Oh, I will be back. He thought to himself. We will require your ability to produce beverages...