Through The Filth And Dead, We Drag You To Democracy(Closed)

[Allanea]

Gyoneyon Hotel

"Prepare the vehicles! We're going to Gyneyon!"

Of the five companies of the Personal Assault Battalion, one was left behind to secure the prisoners. The rest were now off - dozens of BMP-3s, modernized with the latest Allanean technology. A dozen tanks covered their advance, but the main advantage of the force was not in the massive guns the men packed, but rather in the years of training they possessed.

Several broad, open-topped Dominator jeeps rode out front, carrying the Emperor and his closest retinue. Next to him in his car sat Jeremy, carrying a tablet computer. To his right sat Major Willhelm Stossel, his disciple. He held not a weapon in his hand, but a guitar.

As the city came into view, the young man took to singing. Jeremy picked up - and then so did the car's driver. Slowly, the hoarse voices of the soldiers joined into a choir, one that rose even over the clatter of the dozens of engines.

The sky is red and glows overhead,
The roar of cannon rumbles in our ears,
The First Battalion steps over the dead,
And men take flight and demons know fear.

The vehicles passed through the city without incident - the Xahoi were busy chasing people back into their own homes, and traffic was therefore limited. As the armored vehicles approached the city center and the streets around them became wider they began to slow down, breaking up into a checkers-shaped position. Infantrymen leaped off the armor, rifle bolts clacking as they prepared to fight.

The Eagle's claws are bared overhead,
Our steel-shod boots grind stone to dust,
The bayonet-knives are bared in each hand,
Like spearheads, through hell itself we thrust.

Over one of the vehicles, the Emperor's Banner-Personal rose - bright red and gold, with the Eagle at its center grasping a sword in one foot. Cheerfully, Kazansky grinned at the prospect of what was coming. He placed his hands upon his weapons of office - two massive, gold-plated pistols.

Slowly, just as it has started, the song began to die down.

Our Emperor, he laughs at a pain and death,
He laughs as the battle starts afresh.
The pistols never fail in his hands,
And we are there to shield him with our flesh.

The continents shake in fear underfoot,
The city-bonfires light the sky in red,
The Emperor's Own march, like on parade,
And never turn away or face about.

"Thank you." - Kazansky nodded to his men. - "You think too much of me. But now... we are in two kilometers of main street. I believe this counts as ample warning. Let us move on carefully. The Ministries are waiting."

[Eastern Arcadia]

Gyoneyon, City Centre

DREA loyalist troops moved into position as commanded by a now railing Haelstrom, he ranted and raved at his sub-ordinates, attempting to marshal forces to his cause from across the nation; but the immediate battle would be in the city of Gyoneyon.

Numbers, size, strength in numbers, this was what Haelstrom kept on telling himself, nearly three hundred Arcadian troops being marshalled within the ministries bowels, with an additional seventy en route through the cities underground transit system, the southern unit of one of the four hundred strong unit's on the cities borders was marching as swiftly as it could into the sprawling city to where the battle was expected to take place; a few vehicles, outmoded, outdated and technically out of commission, were being prepared in the Ministerial armoury, they were, in truth, only used for parades, but perhaps they would finally earn some glory in the upcoming battle.

As Xahoi operatives legged it from the ministrial district, shepherding innocent civilians out of the way in a last bid to stop collateral damage, DREA loyalist's filtered out into the square, took positions up on the various windows and balconies on the buildings lining the square, and generally waited for Kazansky's invaders to enter through the main gate; whilst smaller alleys were present between the buildings, down which small groups were dispatched, only the main avenue would accommodate the tanks.

Directorate of Heaven

Although unsettled, the Arcadian's residing in the newly proclaimed Directorate of Heaven were inclined to stay, partly because they have established jobs, often good jobs, and were impressed by the freedom of choice in terms of commercialism that was available to them. Of course, naturally, it came with a certain level of apprehensiveness, on the one hand such defection would not be tolerated lightly if they chose to return, but on the other, it looked increasingly likely that the DREA was not going to be around for much longer. Indeed, they watched the news unfolding about the suddenly perilous state of their nation, torn between loyalty, an odd sense of displacement, shock and a horrified fascination; it was like watching a heavy goods vehicle watch into a mobility scooter.

In any case, there was no way they'd be able to get out, with the DREA troops paralysed, but still dug in around the Directorate. It had been expected from the Arcadians residing there that upon Heaven's declaration of independence the DREA would promptly endeavour to bomb the area into a shell before steam rolling in to reinforce their touted claim to the area. As it was, the Directorate had seized the opportunity of the DREA's government incarceration, gambling on the factor that it's leadership would be detained, and that it's remaining head's of government would not be willing to take the moves to head of such a declaration, the gamble had pain off, the Directorate's declaration of independence had been issued, and no response was forthcoming; they had won their freedom.

All that remained to be seen too was the future, with the Arcadian realm straddling the tiny state of Heaven, if the two sides wished to grow, prosper, co-operate and mutually benefit from the other then deals would have to be made, treaties forged, and, negotiations embarked upon. What the question was, with what future Arcadian nation would the Directorate of Heaven have to play cards with?

DREA Gyoneyon Transport Underground

Ryong's sedan came to a stop just over a mile from where he had set off, his driver weaving around troops jogging to their assigned positions amidst the red glare of flashing lights, climbing out, he speed walked to one of the few bronze lined archways inscribed with Arcadian glyph's that were scattered throughout the transit system; elevators to high ranking Ministers private residential homes. A quick light music filled ride to the twenty first floor and he emerged into into his luxurious apartment, taking in the sumptuous living space he passed to his room, picking up a suitcase which had sat in readiness for the last three months now, he paused to add a few things to it, he was a mostly utilitarian person, unmarried, and did not collect or horde any particular piece of art or engage in a hobby; however, an old Aradian record, lifted years ago from a record imported from abroad, caught his eye as he passed his expansive collection of records, grimacing at it's suitability, he slipped it into the back pocket of the suitcase, before heading back to his waiting escort to presumably whisk him away from the governmental buildings.

[Libertarian Governance]

Antonio Montana was happy that recognition was quick to flow in from Libertarian Governance, followed by Urstanian Governance and then several countries throughout the Unified Realm. The morning featured meetings with the MDC board of Directors, which really were just a rubber stamp for the founder of the corporation and holder of well over 50% of the outstanding issued shares of stock. The meetings focused on structuring the Directorate of Heaven.

With warfare and a general collapse of the DREA there was some concern of a possible attack by the communist forces on the other side of the border. Though, the forces of Voss Defense were according to the Colonel ready for any contingency and Libertarian Governance had promised the assistance of both carrier battle groups off the coast in repelling any attack. Presumably that would equate to LGDF troops, though so far away from even forces in Azdun or Urstania it was a hard realization that the cavalry would be possibly days off.

Aye. Montana said as the Board took yet another vote to adopt a slightly modified version of the Libertarian Governance Declaration of Inherent Rights for the citizens of the Directorate. Thus far there had been a whole series of provisions passed establishing an expanded system of referendum, an elected citizens council (under CEO Antonio Montana of course who wields veto power), and approving contracts with a number of vendors.

Well, the important stuff is all done and I trust that our PR team will get this information to the people as quickly as possible. We need to keep the ball rolling on this and keep everyone focused on what they are gaining. Susan we need your people to get this stuff on the net and on the television.

Susan a very attractive Blond on a 42 inch monitor showing the Montana Development Corporation boardroom in LG, nods with a smile. We will get right on it Mister Montana. I do have a question.

Ok, what is it?

What about a flag? I was thinking...

Tony cuts her off. Have the school children here in Heaven make us one. Have some sort of contest and lets have a referendum to pick the winner. Only school children.

As the conference ends and the monitors go black Antonio turns to Manny Ray Rodriquez. The World is Ours!.

[Allanea]

Gyoneyon City Center, Main Entrance to City Square

The roar of automatic weapons fills the street as a nervous Arcadian trooper opens fire on the oncoming Allanean vehicles. Rifle rounds ping off of the armor of the heavy tanks leading the Allanean offensive.

There is no need for orders. The tankers already know what to do. The front vehicle raises its weapon - a massive, 180mm main gun - to its maximum elevation.

Inside, the tanker swears.

"Fuck it! Not enough!" - even at its maximum elevation, the tank gun is too close to aim at the center of the window where the gun shot was just heard.

"It's still the window, man. I bet you it can still go through."

"Well, then." - the gunner places his finger on the firing stud.

The gun bellows like an enraged behemoth, letting forth its first shell. The heavy round, designed to defeat the armor of advanced tanks like the Nakil, strikes half a meter below the window still. The front-focused explosion burns a hole through the concrete, spraying the inside of the room with overheated particles of rock and metal.

And then all hell breaks lose. The entrance gate collapses as if it was made of cardboard, struck by multiple tank shells.

"Take that! Take it!" - the tank gunner screams, his turret spinning with painful slowness. The coaxial autocannon spits 30mm shells across the facade of the ministry building, some detonating uselessly against the heavy walls, others breaking into windows, showering the men inside with deadly shrapnel.

The tanks continue crawling onwards, their guns spitting and roaring, the city square engulfed in explosions.

Next to them, recon troops disperse, moving along the narrow city streets on foot. Single rifle shots beging to snap in the distance as they encounter Ministry troops. But some have a different task.

*

"Open up, in the name of the Emperor!" - the flimsy door dances on its hinges as the rifle buttstock slams into it again and again. The terrified Arcadian woman that opens blanches as she sees a young Allanean standing in front of her, his massive-looking rifle raise in one hand, weaponry and grenades gleaming on his vest.

"Pardon me, Ma'am," - he says, his tone polite yet firm as he makes his way into the house, his very expression brooking no disagreement. Minutes later, he is already lying down on the house roof, his spotter securing his position.

"Northern corner of the square! Third story from above, second window from left!" - the spotter calls out.

He opens the covers on his scope. Soon, he finds his man - an East Arcadian, preparing a rocket launcher to fire.

"I wonder if that's even safe." - he chuckles - "Haven't they been taught about backblast?"

"Maybe that's a low-backblast launcher. They do exist for urban warfare and stuff."

"Right, right." - the man smiles. He breathes in - and then, just before exhaling, pulls the trigger.

"Not safe, anyway,"- he comments, rolling sideways from his position, now lying flat against the roof. "Not safe at all."

[Eastern Arcadia]

Gyoneyon City Center, Main Entrance to City Square

Arcadian troops positioned on the Ministries floors levelled their outdated M21 Sniper Weapon's, rocket launchers, and machine guns down upon the oncoming Allanean army, rocket troopers focusing on the tanks, machine guns spraying bursts at the fairly constricted Allanean force entering through the corridor of entrance. Of these troops, some found their combat experience unexpectedly cut short as blood, brain and bone burst in a torrent from their skull's from a well placed Allanean sniper rifle shot, scores more were flung across rooms, their bodies torn to shreds by shards caused by artillery shells impacting against the concrete walls of the Ministries.

Alerted to this tactical onslaught, Arcadian snipers positioned on the top floor's of the Ministry Of Information, a gigantic thirty four floors
of Arcadian multi-storey engineering, positioned to the right of the square into which the Allanean's were endeavouring to enter, began scanning the surrounding buildings down to the main road for Allanean snipers, keeping low to keep themselves hidden, taking advantage of their position, and being sure to fire once they had located an Allanean held room where a sniper could be clearly seen readying for a shot; hopefully with good timing those snipers would never get those shots off in time.

On the ground the situation was, if possible, less co-ordinated, a large bulk of the DREA troops were still holed up in the Ministries, opting to fire from the cover of windows rather than engage directly, but an initial placement of troops consisting of rocketeer's and infantry opened fire with volleys of rockets and rifle fire; bracing themselves for the worst even as machine gun fire, rifle fire, and sniper's tore into their numbers.

[Allanea]

City Square

The heavy tank moving to the front explodes violently - someting must have penetrated into the ammunition storage somehow. The turret is ripped off in a torrent of fire and smoke, the escorting infantry swept away in a hurricane of fire. The survivors are rapidly picked off by sniper fire. Yet another tank loses control, its left track ripped apart by two impacts. Before the driver can react, the vehicle is already turned to the right, blocking the road to vehicles. Sniper fire rings out along the square, and several more infantrymen fall dead.

But the vehicle, though injured, is still fighting. Its turret swivels and fires, placing a 180mm shell in a Ministry window. As response, two RPG roungs explode against the glacis plate - and the 180mm cannon barks again. And then, the tank is surrounded by a crown of fire. A dozen smoke launchers come alive at once, saturating the city street with smoke grenades.

Inside the vehicle, the tank driver hits a switch, and the engine begins to spout thick, grey smoke p the product of an onboard, diesel-based smoke generator. Within minutes the street is entirely obscured.

"Flamethrower squad! Ready!"

"Grenadiers! Fire!"

Rocket launchers and underbarrel grenade launchers come alive. Their targets are not the enemy troops - these cannot be seen well through the plumes of smoke - but the enemy buildings as such. Dozens of fuel-air explosive and high-explosive rockets streak through the cloud of smoke, with the grenadiers moving as soon as they pull the trigger, avoiding retaliatory fire. Similraly, the armored vehicles open fire as well - all aiming on the 30-story Ministry building.

Back Streets:

The submachinegun rattles furiously, bringing down a single man of the Arcadian patrol. But it is too close - the enemies are only a few yards away from him. They managed to surprise him, coming around the bend. There's no time to reload.

The other Arcadian patrolman is already upon him, his hands grabbing for the special operative's throat. Instinctively, the Allanean reaches for a weapon. His hand lies easily on the handle.

Exploding from its holster, the Mark II Infantry Shovel rises up into the enemy's chin, it's blade gleaming as it strikes, splattering shattered bone and blood. Before the Arcadian can recover, the soldier kicks him in the knee, causing him to bend over. And then the final blow descends, the sharpened shovel hacking into the side of the enemy's neck, cutting his carotid artery and spine. The man falls like a sack of potatoes.

The battle continues.

[Eastern Arcadia]

City Square

The Ministry Of Public Knowledge And Information, bearing the brunt of the Prussian attack, spewed glass, masonry and plaster over both it's attackers and defenders as artillery shells shattered walls, machine gun fire smashed windows; gouts of fire from the grenades and rocket's either smashed against the buildings side or flew into the rooms where they ignited funeral pyres. Amidst the chaos of DREA troops being pummelled beyond recognition as exterior walls crumbled amidst flying shrapnel, inhumane screams as men and women caught alight, and the general agonising cries coming from the wounded, it became clear that the battleground was about to descend into momentary anarchy.

The smoke made the snipers useless, so they moved away from their positions, but two dozen DREA troops took position atop the pummelled building and, with little flair, hurled their grenades over the top and down to the smoke obscured Prussians below; this was quickly followed by orders to open fire into the light black mass obscuring their foes.

Aside from the more out of reach upper levels, the DREA had pulled back from the front of the building, in the face of entire rooms being obliterated by tank fire, their occupants being slaughtered by the dozens as grenades came flying in, and fires beginning to flicker here and there, it became clear that their position was slightly worse than the Prussians when a section of the buildings front wall suddenly came crashing down, exposing both the retreating, the previously hidden, and the dead.

The remaining DREA troops in the square, having taken heavy hits, but having inflicted heavy damage themselves, were emboldened by the sudden cloud of smoke; considering it a product of their efforts the battle cry to advance forwards sounded throughout their ranks.

"Tạm ứng chuyển tiếp!" Screamed the officer, charging forward with his officers pistol firing, practically aimlessly, as where his last target had been vaguely standing a minute previously; he was followed by a similarly roaring DREA troop firing their machine guns into the cloud.

Gyoneyon Urban District C

Half jogging, half marching, towards the now besieged government headquarters of their glorious leaders, the DREA battalion stationed at the cities edge had promptly abandoned it's post in order to keep their capital out of the hands of barbaric invaders, they were two hours out, a swift advance across the wide and disused roads of the capital would see them quickly to their rescue.

Little did they know however that they were being watched, the Coalition had spent decades mapping the DREA, identifying useful landmarks, viable targets in an attack; and as a helpful by product of such zealous planning they were able to enact attempts to slow down the DREA reinforcement's. In this case, bridge's were usually useful for routing troop movements.

And so it was, as the army approached one of the outermost cast iron framed bridges that provided a crossing over the river Gyoneyon which snaked through the city, one of the the Coalition's Shinobi group's dressed in appropriate camouflage, scattered across the opposite river bank, eyed the oncoming army through binoculars. Their work had been completed twelve minutes ago, they had hidden themselves effectively seven minutes ago, and were now waiting to watch the after effects of their planted C4.

The lucky individual with his finger on the trigger, despite his rigorously enforced professional discipline, saw the value, both strategic and the grim associated pleasure, in waiting for the DREA to cross some of the bridge before he thumbed the trigger.

He frowned momentarily, mentally reciting a prayer and a curse that the wireless detonator was faulty, he was barely halfway through this consideration with a teeth rattling boom emanated from the bridge, followed simultaneously by the sound of metal being wrenched into new and exciting shapes.

The C4 had been positioned around load bearing joints and the immediate top of the arch's, and given the outdated construction technique and age of the bridge itself, it was no wonder that it came crashing down fairly readily, taking down with it a portion of the DREA reinforcements into the fast flowing and merciless waters below, as the Shinobi vanished into the surrounding area away from the oncoming Arcadian crowd they left a stranded group of troops in the centre of the bridge and the majority of them still stuck on the other side. Yet another small accomplishment to add to their rota.

[Allanea]

City Square, IFV Driver Marin Mayer

Corporal Martin Mayer understood that the men far up on that building probably didn't expect to be seen. They believed that – just as the smoke would make the Allaneans invisible to the naked eye, it would make them invisible to the Allaneans. They were even correct. They were invisible to the naked eye, hidden by the layers of diesel smoke. Mind – Corporal Martin Mayer wasn't looking at them with the naked eye.

He pressed his forehead against the rubber headrest that made it easier for him to look down the scope of his weapon – a turreted 100mm low-pressure gun. Like an old-fashioned over-under shotgun, this gun was mounted coaxially with a 30mm automatic cannon and a heavy machinegun. And – more importantly for everybody involved – it carried a suite of infra-red sensors.

He could see them now, silhoetted in their own warmth against the cold, unforgiving sky – men perched on the top of the building, on the other side of the square, their bodies silhouetted by their own warmth – their own life. It was the fact they were alive that gave them away. Gently, almost imperceptibly, the Corporal laid his finger on the firing button, aiming the 100mm gun at a man's chest.

And then there was fire. Several vehicles had sighted in on the rooftop position and began firing through the smoke at the advancing enemies. Suddenly, the men who had just, seconds ago, believed themselves to be perfectly safe, were standing in the very house of death. Automatic grenade launcher fire raked them from above from nearly vertical trajectories. Precision-guided missiles exploded among them, engulfing them in fuel-air explosives. Canister rounds from tanks and IFVs washed the square with lead, and HE rounds fused for air-burst exploded above them, showering them in shrapnel.

The first trap had sprung.