OOC: I have been TGing another nation about this for a week now, so no one claim these attacks.
Griswall, Capital of the Republic of Licana
Intersection of 32nd and Main, Inside a black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter
Saturday, August 14th, 2014
10:48 AM
The inside of the van was crowed, all the space taken up by the seven men and their gear. It was so close, every last person in the van was wondering if time could possibly progress slower, denying them of their victory for any longer. A voice broke the silence.
"Henrik, what's going on, is the plan still in place?"
A man in his mid-30s seated in the front passenger seat turned around. His features were rough, with a long scar running down his cheek and another on his neck, with short, well-cut brown hair. He looked like the kind of man who's life had been plagued by war and destruction.
"Yes, Viktor, now quit worrying. Today is our day to take what is rightfully ours, once and for all."
There was a pause from the small man, who couldn't have been more than 21.
"Alright" he said, nervously.
Henrik looked directly at the boy, "It is likely that we will all die here, today"
There was a long pause, then Viktor looked up at Henrik. "I will not fail the motherland, not again."
Just then, the driver's cell phone rang, he picked it up and listened. Everyone in the van was tense, not making a single sound.
The driver set his phone down slowly, "It's time."
Griswall
Langley Street, Monorail station twelve
9:12 AM
A man in a well tailored business suit, walked up to the station platform carrying a large briefcase. This was not out of place, public transport services were the preferred method of travel for business men and women in Licana. The man waited patiently for the 9:30 monorail train to arrive and boarded it.
He found an empty bench and sat down, setting his large briefcase under the bench. He looked around, at the passengers of the train. One woman was tending to her crying child, while a man across from him just got of his cell phone. The last words that the business man heard from the man was "I'll be home soon, love you, bye." No doubt talking to a loved one. For two stops, the man in the business suit waited patiently, and it looked like he was going to do skip the next as well, but at the last moment he got up and walked off the train. The man across from him saw he had left his briefcase, and tried to return it to him.
The doors shut before he could get up though. Unfortunately, this would be the last act of kindness the man would ever make. As the train drifted down the tracks, about 150 meters from the station, it exploded. The explosion gutted the train and destroyed the tracks, sending debris raining down on cars and buildings underneath. The compartment that the briefcase was on, as well as the two next to it, were completely destroyed. No one in them survived.
As the man in the business suit walked quickly down the stairs to ground level, he pulled out his cell phone. After a single ring, the person he called answered it. Business suit man uttered one word "Indigo" and hung up. He unlocked a grey sedan in the parking lot near the stairs, and drove off. As the man was driving he pulled out his phone again, making a few more calls, all saying the same single word. After this task was done he pulled over, sufficiently far away from the monorail station. He took a large gulp of a bottle of water, found in the car, and look at the time. "10:52, right on schedule."
Griswall
89th street, Jester Delivery Company, garage 18.
10:52 AM
The large box-truck in garage 18 had been untouched for almost six months now. It's drive was fired and, due to cut backs in the budget, the local manager hadn't hired a replacement. However, today was different. The truck's engine started suddenly. Curious workers began to rush to the garage, afraid that someone was trying to steal a truck. The truck's engine let out a vicious roar, slamming through the closed garage doors and turning wildly onto the street. The workers, it looked like the truck had been stolen by some drunk. They paid no attention the mahogany sedan, that was waiting in front of their shop for almost a day now.
The sedan moved for the first time in nearly a day, following the truck. The two vehicles stayed within eyesight for almost a mile. The truck looked like it was driven by a drunk, swerving and slamming into nearby cars, and almost hit a nearby pedestrian. However, the truck soon came to a halt in the middle of an intersection. Most of the incoming traffic stopped before the light-post on the street. A few had stopped in the middle of the intersection, some even having to swerve to miss the massive truck. Two others were not so lucky, slamming into the truck and totaling their cars.
A man left his totaled car, watching in stunned disbelief as a mahogany sedan took a right turn and sped away from what the man thought to be a disaster zone. His idea of the word would soon be changed. He stood on top of his hood, looking over the window on the passenger side door in an attempt to give the driver "some friendly advice for driving". When he looked in, there was no driver and no passenger, only an odd apparatus connected to the wheel and the floor board, with wires running into the dashboard.
The man couldn't even formulate a thought as to what was going on before he was engulfed in a massive fireball. The box-truck had been packed to the brim with high explosives, and it had just detonated. The fireball engulfed the two cars that had crashed into it, and a third nearby SUV. The shock wave shattered windows and sent a man flying off his motorcycle. This, itself, caused only a small amount of damage, but the placement was what was important. This intersection was directly over a subway tunnel, and the explosion had caused the tunnel to collapse. The 11:15 train to the nearby station would go on to slam headfirst into a wall of dirt, cement, and asphalt.
