The Native Story Index [Open; All Techs]

by **Xiscapia** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 9:16 pm

[FT]

Some Boss Shit

Link

"Man, your bass is intense."

"Yeah, you could kill somebody with these sound waves."

"This is some boss shit."

"That's how I like it."

"Hey, nice."

I am gratified. The car -the Prowler- isn't mine, of course, it belongs to the organization's, the Syndicate. That doesn't matter though, I can use it, and if it impresses those guys back there, and that vixen next to me, it's all good. The bass is making the whole car shake, the windshield and mirrors are wavering like rippling water, and we can all feel the vibrations in our bodies, reverberating through our bones and into our guts like a revelation. People outside the car hear it too, people who stop and stare, or smile at it, or turn away and hurry back through a door or an alley, depending on affiliation. It's okay, I'm not out on official business tonight anyway, just going out to have a good time. Somebody's gonna die tonight, that's a given in this city, but it doesn't have to be me, and I don't have to be the one to pull the trigger.

"I always cut through that parking lot," the vixen next to me remarks as we shoot past a bar, rattle through an unpaved area that separates its parking lot from our destination and pull around into a parking spot. I smile at her, but say nothing. I think there was a reason she chose to sit up here next to me, and not back there with those other two. We all pile out, four of us, me, her, the guy in the trenchcoat with the stuff and his friend, the human. It's early, so the parking lot is mostly empty. A couple of guys are standing up on the second floor, leaning on the railing, watching us. A nod gets a nod back, so we're cool to head around to the side.

There's not much back here, the side of the building with a stairway, a fence, a little shed marked with warnings not to light fires near it, and the ass-end of a bunch of commercial businesses out the other way. Somebody's bike with a bottle full of red something is chained up under the stairwell. There's about a thousand cigarette butts scattered around. Overhead the clouds are making interesting patterns, swirled and streaked by passing aircraft and launching starships. Nobody's around. I sit down with the vixen near the bottom of the stairs on one of the steps, the guy with the stuff leans up against the wall, and the human sits up on the banister.

He gets out the lighter and the bag, pours some stuff out into it, lights up, and take a thick drag, passes it on. The vixen takes the next hit, inhales, passes it on. I take it between two fingers, put it up to my mouth, watch the smoke curling out of it, inhale. The stuff burns bright, and I feel the smoke punch me in the back of the throat, fall down my esophagus like a drunk tripping down stairs and crash into my lungs -which is weird, because I'm pretty sure the two aren't connected. It's some boss shit. I choke, just stop myself from coughing, pass it on, and get it out of my lungs and mouth as fast as I can. I love doing this, but I hate actually smoking it, from a pipe anyway. Gravity bongs, joints, vaporizers, me and them get along just fine, but I never met a pipe I liked.

Human takes it, and it gets around to the guy with the stuff again. The pipe's done by this point, so he shakes it out, ash floating away on the wind, and packs it again. We go around again, and I take it better this time, more controlled, not hard, and I do fine. Beside me the vixen's eyes have gone all half-lidded, and she starts leaning against me. I entwine my tail with hers and lean my head on her shoulders. Her fur smells nice.

"Better go up."

"Yeah."

We're in the hookah bar now. I always call it the hookah bar, even though it's really a coffee shop, they don't serve alcohol here. Hell, they don't even let you smoke your own stuff in here, hence the smoking outside. We all get around a table in the corner, near the floor where they put a bunch of pads and pillows, and I lie across one side and the vixen is on the other and my head is just a few inches from hers. The hose starts going around.

I've always liked smoking from a hookah; it's the only form of tobacco smoking that's widely tolerated in the Kitsune Empire, probably because it doesn't make things smell like shit afterwards. Exhaling out my snout, I hand it off to the next guy and look up. There's a new poster there, a human in a gas mask, Confederate I guess, standing there with a rifle. It reads "This man is your friend -He fights for freedom." It's half falling off, held up by one tack, a piece of gum, and prayer.

"Yeah, right," I mutter.

"What?" The vixen's got her eyes open and is looking over at me.

"The poster," I nod at it. "We kicked their asses in the war, and now they fight for us? Is that how it works?"

"Practically," the guy with the stuff smirked. "You know they're here because they didn't want to fight no more? The Navy could have taken this system fine, but that's when the Confederates came to the peace table. And we made them our bitches."

"I would have liked to see that," the human chuckled.

"I don't know why we can't all just get along," the vixen said, a bit sadly. "I had a cousin who died fighting the Archians. I don't get it. There's more than enough territory and resources for both our nations."

"I dunno," I said. "Sometimes...I just feel like this is all being directed somehow. Y'know, guided. Like there's a bunch of guys somewhere making this all happen and getting to decide who lives and who dies and all that shit."

"What...like, gods or something?"

"No...sorta. Like gods with limits, I guess. With rules. Like a game."

"A game you play with nations and billions of people at stake? What kind of sick fuck would do something like that?"

"I know people who would do that."

"Yeah, but, imagine if it were true."

"So...like, what? One guy per nation?"

"Something like that."

"I think there's some pretty shitty guys up there then, given the nations I've seen."

"I wonder what our guy is like, then?"

"Weird."

"Weird?"

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"I dunno. I mean, my life is pretty good. What if I owed him that?"

"I guess we'd all owe him that, right? Like, all this expansion and prosperity and ass-kicking and shit."

"That would be some pretty boss shit."

I had to agree.

by **The Georgian Peoples** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 9:19 pm

[ MT ]

An Enemy of State
Georgia City,Georgia
The Kingdom of Georgia

John looked up from his desk as one of his co-workers walked up to him with a folder. If anything he knew that if he followed through with his plans the odds were that if he was caught he would be tried for treason and sent to the Royal Prison. He took the folder and waved the associate away.

He opened it, there was no paper just a little micro chip. He plugged it into his laptop and while he was downloading the file he finished some work authorizing the termination of a government department. Now you may wonder who was this man who was powerful enough to d these things. Well it was Field Marshall Terenov and he was terminating a Veteran Affairs Program.

He knew his authority would probably be questioned. Yes, but with his plans he did not care. He would quit and move to Russia. What he had in his hands were the current plans for the government offensive against a weak Russia.

He opened his laptop to almost choking over his gum, the message read that his computer had attempted an illegal operation and law enforcements were on their way to investigate the problem. As he looked up to guards standing at his desk he gulped and took a deep sigh. The guard said,"Your under arrest you enemy of state."

by **Xiscapia** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 9:56 pm

[FT]

Audio Tape #1

Link

<<Hello? Are you still there?
WHAT IS SEVER TOMORROW?>>

"General Caedo once said that all peace is a lie; there is no peace, only stages of war. I have a new one for you. All security is a lie; there are only stages of complacency.

"Our ancestors created the greatest empire even known, a mighty haven of wisdom, power, innovation, invention and prosperity, the definition of pride, honor, courage, a bastion, our Motherland. Now...we are decaying. Our economic strength leaks away like blood from a hanging corpse. Foes who once trembled at the mention of our name now bite at our heels like dogs. Are we so disgustingly ready to apologize for our own power, our own determination, our own domination, are we so embracing of this idea of 'egalitarianism' and 'equality?'

"We have lost the will to lead. Foreigners take our position, take our industries, our venues, our place in deciding the best course for the galaxy. Do you sleep easy, leaving the fate of the galaxy in the hands of Xenohumanity? Does your daughter want to live in the Vipran Decade? The idea of it.

"Tanara was the power for half a millenia. We have barely managed thirty years. We have the might still. But where is the desire? The ambition? Comrades, the truth is here, and it is merciless. Xiscapia must be shocked back in readiness. Her life force must flow back to her vitals. We will be the ones to save her. So, we will siege a piece of theory, and the galaxy will watch, and be astounded. An act with a point that cannot be ignored, an act that will mobilize the population, even those politicians with weak tails.

"There will be death, and there will be devastation. We cannot stay where we are. To destroy an immovable object, an unstoppable force is required. Picture it, not as a war, but as a game. Xiscapia loves games. In ours, apathy will end and the nation will be reborn to see fresh leaders emerge and they will be glad.
Let the games begin."

<<They're watching.>>

by **Milograd** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 9:58 pm

-Snip-

Reason: Turned into a thread.

by **Xiscapia** » Tue Jun 14, 2011 10:08 pm

[FT]

Audio Tape #2

Link

"I want to assure you that we have nothing but good will towards the Imperial Administration. We do not take this action because we want to take a coup to the Imperial Family, or the Palace. We believe, sincerely, that they are doing their best; as each according to his ability, as each according to his needs. It's simply that they have yet to realize their maximum ability. We have faith in the Emperor. But assistance is required to help the Palace find its most relevant course of action. After all, President Maxilleian had balls. We simply have to help our dear Emperor and the Empire find theirs. A planet in flames should do it, don't you think?

"It is our duty to save liberty, and I can give you this personal guarantee: We have the vision and the means to safeguard the Xiscapian nation."

by **-Deus-** » Wed Jun 15, 2011 3:43 am

[P/MT]

The City That Was Never Built

“Hellooo Shining City!” She started with a loud, obnoxious roar into her microphone, her words slick and smooth, a slight mush-mouthed styling at the end as she exaggerated the words and continued back up with the same amount of intensity “This is Luran Summers, your favourite radio host here in the always sunny city of Vyra, the so called ‘Shining City on the River’ and I’m here to present you with the hard hitting news only KTY.2 can provide. But first let’s play a little music to start the day!”

That was her, the always loud, always smiling, always peppy Luran Summers. She was a pretty woman, long blonde hair, clear skin, sparkling eyes, you know the type I’m sure. She was young to, only twenty…say, five, err, four perhaps. Yet as popular as she was in our quint little town she was always so weird, always snooping into things she had no business in. But I’m quite sure that’s why we loved her so.

However, this day was like any other as she flipped a couple of switches, blasting on music reminiscent of the 80’s rock period, stepping out of the building – or, in actuality, a refitted radio booth inside of a long abandoned trailer home. She didn’t wander far, looking around from the top of the hill on which the trailer was parked, looking down onto the crisp city below that was just now waking up to the tunes she was blasting. She was the most popular radio host in a small town were cable television is a luxury.

She simply sat there on the steps leading out of the trailer, dusting her hands off on her blue jeans and pulling out a box of smokes from the left side pocket of her light tan jacket she wore around a simply white shirt. She scooped two out, popping one of the flimsy cigarettes into her mouth and setting the tip ablaze with the lighter she had stored in the right side pocket of the same jacket. She threw the other cigarette down the hill, the flimsy thing breaking apart against a rock halfway down. And yet, idly so she sat there and smoked, taking long pauses before each, somehow exaggerated exhale.

And for once in her quiet little life as a radio host in a city no one in the country had heard of, her face, that pretty little face that anyone could look into and lose themselves in, was without a smile. It simply lay still as she took another exaggerated exhale and looked out across the city, her gaze unfocused and giving the impression she was deep in thought. Yet in reality, her mind was blank.

It took a few moments before she shook it off, regaining herself before throwing out the cigarette and returning to the trailer/radio booth. She shook herself, quite literally, thrashing her head about as the daze seemed to leave her and her face resumed its liveliness again. But something was wrong, as things tend to always be, she still felt empty inside, her gaze was stull uneasy and unfocused as if she had just seen a ghost. But she ignored that, shaking again and placing herself carefully back into her seat, flipping off the music as if on cue and resuming her line of work that was sure to bring meaning back to her face.

“I’m back!” She started up again, her voice gripped tightly together and her words quick, the mush-mouth styling and intensity still there. But something was missing. Something was gone in her voice that made it slightly drop, that made if give off the slight impression of…of something. “Now, let’s get to business! As you may have heard or not, the government has recently decided to begin mining operations up here in the hills, right next to yours truly. Now, if this isn’t the most bunghole-type retarded thing you’ve ever heard, that they want to mess up..a..a..a scenic treasure and beautiful natural wonder for some copper and what not. If they want me to use my tax money on such an idiotic idea, then they might as well just kill me now and take all my belongs, because I will never, ever, EVER, allow such a thing to transpire in my cit-.”

RAMONA!

She stopped. Her eyes went wide. Her heart rate skyrocketed. She breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, in and out, over and over again, like a wheezing animal on the verge of death. She began to cry, falling to her knees and straining to move her body. She began to cough now, gasping for breath. She prayed to God. Her mind slowly began to decay, right then and there.

It had been triggered already, from what we could tell. You see, what I or anyone else will not tell you is that “Vyra” never existed-.

RAMONA!

-That this quiet little city is nothing but an elaborately made holding pen to conduct experiments, more importantly our greatest project. Luran Summers was not and will never be a popular radio host-.

Please, God! RAMONA!

-She won’t be anything but a test subject. But you don’t know that. All you know is that she died of a heart attack. That she was a radio host in some quiet little city you’ve only recently heard about. You won’t ask questions, you won’t peak your nose into it. Because if you do, if you intend to search further, you will only be sucked in until you are the radio host suffering a heart attack in a quiet little city-.

…Oh God, please…Please…Ramona…

-Now, let’s go back to the beginning.

by **Heliocalypse** » Sun Jun 19, 2011 10:16 am

[FT]

Battle of Ilina-Ba IV, Initial Plans

Dake-Ayeno E#Saosa – We're about to strike a decisive blow on Ilina-Ba IV, the first bastion of Jao Coreligionists. For far too long the heathen shamelessly contaminate Vohru-ma with puritanical and heretical wrong-doings. The evil shall be purged, with evil. I, Nanoh-Ka shalt deliver the sacred judgment of Vohru-ma as the protector of Ki-Leina and the vanguard of Maeki. It's going to be an arduous fight of salvation, to liberate, nay the Jao had been too far from the Maeki Path. They shall be eliminated with no mercy, on the name of Ki-Leina.

Nanoh-Ka viewed his escort ships slowly ballad into position, gracefully spinning, turning and moving like a leaf in a wind. Standing at the bridge of Grace of Maeki, his primary ship, Nanoh-Ka begin to think of what the future may behold. Nanoh-Ka felt this is the time of judgment, the time of trial of his belief towards his faith, the Path of Maeki. Following him was his loyal brethren of the Chinsido-Ga, one of the many temples devoted on Maeki.

“Nanoh-Ka, have you thought of a plan to slay the heathens?” asked one of his brethren. It's Lovoc-Fa, the champion cause of Grace of Maeki. Lovoc-Fa was a woman of soothsayers, a predictor to be precise. And this very ability makes her quite fearsome.

Looking at Lovoc-Fa with fury and rage, Nanoh-Ka barely touched Lovoc-Fa's face with his sword, “Don't worry my brethren, we shall strike them with fury and tactics”

“With what, your sword, Haema Nanoh-Ka?” replied Lovoc-Fa with tone of sarcasm.

Surprisingly, Nanoh-Ka replied exactly of what she did just said, “Yes, with my sword I shall strike them, so let us be closer to them to strike with avail”

As Nanoh-Ka finished his charade, a black mass of shadow starts to veil their position. It's of what Nanoh-Ka said, a sword. Or in more accurate terms, a large group of fleets named as Swords of Taicha-Ne. Numerous warships bearing pulsating sleek blue-green lines on a matte of red finish filled the void of the space, in multiple groups shaped like swords.

“Lovoc-Fa, arise. It's time, for glory, for Maeki” whispered Nanoh-Ka to her ears. With confide, rise Lovoc-Fa, brimming with crimson passion. It's the time of Ki-Leina indeed, as she figured.

Nanoh-Ka, a young person in his twenties, coloured sleek jet black hair and azure irises drawn his shimmering platinum sword back to his sheath. As he set his sword back to its holder, Lovoc-Fa and her retainers left the area and replaced by another two entities, of Chinsido-Ga. Jishi-Da of Jagyo Clan, a veteran cause of Kikov-Sa War appeared himself in front of Nanoh-Ka. Thick steel grey of lines sheathed Jishi-Da, a short hair and mustache faced his old and scarred face.

Another entity, clad in Lako-Zi battle armour kneeled in front of Nanoh-Ka and that person is no other than the young and esteemed Mel-Kado, a young prodigy in tactics from the Nehoka-Va Clan. Yellow hair flowed from her head, with intense blue eyes, coupled by her body hugging armour, clearly defining her succulent curves. With eyes focused on Nanoh-Ka, they begun their short conference.

“Haema Nanoh-Ka, how do we slay the heathens?”

“Jishi-Da felt the same ikai-do, Haema. How do we do it?”

“Mel-Kado and Jishi-Da, worry least. For I have a plan against the heretics of Jao”

“Haema, intentions you may brought to be true, but Ilina-Ba IV is heavily fortified, from top to bottom. Jakundo platforms, Jao Core Fleets, Saeoku networks, Mahru axes and many more. Swords of Taicha-Ne may win the first few conflicts but the heathen Jao is too entrenched in their position”

“And for that mere reason we shall break them. They're arrogant and too prideful they may. Mel-Kado, you and other five fleets are tasked for creating a diversion for the Jao Core Fleets on the Ilina-Ba III. There were several uprisings in the past there and the civil unrest is rising there”

“About the Jakundo platforms, Haema? Three direct hit from those and we shall becomes martyrs. Cause of absolution may true, but if our brethren are not with us to stand proudly on our victory, then their honour would be in vain”

Staring at the star chart, Nanoh-Ka smiled, “There is an asteroid belt in the system isn't it? Why not we use the rocks there and fling it to the Jakundo platforms?”

“Haema, but doesn't that mean we're condemning Ilina Ba IV to death? To win of the hearts of the sympathetic heathens, we must not be as reckless as that”

“Jishi-Da, they're heavily fortified, sure im that they can handle something like that. Jalo-Di shields and many more, it's easier for us to let them deal with rocks from the heavens than making Taicha-Ne handle such thing”

Nanoh-Ka quickly draw a tactical representation of Ilina-Ba IV and the asteroid belts, tracing lines and such to make his words more clearer. Mel-Kado and Jishi-Da with allurement eyes analyzed his plan, plan of distraction. Lightly touching the floating image interface, Jishi-Da zoomed on into Ilina-Ba IV image and marked a few areas that are suspected to be full of Jao warfleets.

Seeing the gravity of the situation, Jishi-Da arose from his position and started to talk to Nanoh-Ka,“Haema, I approve of your wise words but how do we crack Ilina-Ba IV? Jakundo may compromised with your plan but the heathens still have their massive warfleets after all, more than enough to cover Ilina-Ba IV and the planned uprisings”

“This is certainly grave, Jishi-Da. Mel-Kado, something ran across your mind?” asked Nanoh-Ka with changing faces and tones.

With eyes focused on Mel-Kado, she decided to speak, “Haema, I just need to create a distraction is it? With Swords of Kidi-Na shall I create many distractions, while part of Jishi-Da forces covers my fleets. While the heathens are busy chasing us, Jishi-Da forces can flank them and condemn them to swift death. Like a moth to a flame”

Drawing yet again, Jishi-Da drawn the plan of Mel-Kado on the picture. Swiftly crafting lines and shapes, Jishi-Da nodded to Mel-Kado's plan. His approval had settled the worries of Nanoh-Ka and Nanoh-Ka decided to give a simple message via series of hand movements.

“Until the Dawn of Maeki, shall I follow you, Haema. Adjourn not for your bidding, Haema!”

“Same allegiance, Haema. Mel-Kado shall make the heathens collapse from within”

“Go, my brethren. For the glory of Maeki!”

With finishing his sentence, Nanoh-Ka can see various fleets of Taicha-Ne quickly spread out in their tactical “Rain Drop” formation to go to their designated points. Eyes glaring and hands clasping, now Nanoh-Ka just need to wait. For his plan to take its action to cause a domino effect on the heathen Jao Coreligionists.

To be continued!

OOC note 1: Haema in this RP can mean either Esteemed Leader or Holy King. In the Path of Maeki, Haema is selected from a few from thousands of potential applicants. Tested in battle, forged in embolden emotions, Haema is the direct source of morale for all of that follows it, mostly a certain sect of Maeki or so.

OOC note 2: Maeki is a special religion a certain group of entities that decided to upheld it. Still working on it though...

by **Abruzi** » Sun Jun 19, 2011 5:20 pm

Broken but Unbowed

PMT

"Роджер, ясно доменной зоне"!

“Roger, clear the blast zone!”

A paltry few seconds later the roar of the nose mounted chain gun shattered the already chaotic night as the Defense Force AH-1 Cobra sprayed the suspected Neo Bolshevist Safehouse with twenty millimeter cannon fire. The heavy caliber rounds tore through wood, cement, and bone as the pair of choppers strafed the house several times. As if to end their fire support mission with a bang (pun intended), the lead Chopper, call signed “Devious” fired a clutch of Hellfire Missiles into the now structurally-fucked building. There was a dull crump as the missile detonated, the fury of their blast amazingly contained by what obviously was a hardened pillbox. Just as the Patrol rose, the structure let out a tortured shriek and collapsed, kicking up great plumes of radioactive dust that coated the weary soldiers in seconds.

Lance Corporal Yuri Allosha wiped a grimy hand across his gas mask’s eye pieces and desperately tried to clear the dust and grime from his M-16 A4 (CQB). The red dot scope was clouded but serviceable but Yuri feared that the grime had mixed with the already problematic carbon fouling, almost guaranteeing him a jam. Just as the LCP crouched to disassemble the weapon, the Platoon Commander, Staff Sergeant Ivan Gregonovitch Kirov waved his squadron forward. It seemed that the CAS had not swept the ruins clear of The Contented and Yuri realized that he could faintly hear the pop and chatter of the holdouts’ Kalash Rifles. The rugged Kalashnikov always amazed Yuri who himself had held one in what would prove to be the final days of the Red Army.

He and his fire team ducked and weaved through the ruins of what once was a fuel depot. Alpha and Bravo Fireteams were on the flanks and his own Firearm Leader, Sergeant 0252, moved as quickly and cunningly as a cat through the tangle of decaying buildings and empty gas tanks. The odd stray round impacted nearby with a zing or snap and while Yuri made sure that his “Steel Pot” was on correctly, he did not take the time to double check that his Kevlar Plates in his chest guard were seated correctly.

As he and his men moved closer to The Contented, the weight of fire from the gaggle of Red Army Soldiers grew into a raging torrent. The chatter of the Kalash was now accompanied by the deep boom of a twenty millimeter cannon and the dull whoosh of a big gun. It had to be tank, one of the rare and mighty Bear Claw MBTs must be in the AO. Sergeant 0252 slid into cover in front of him and with a soft grunt Yuri did the same. After checking the maps and the Fireteam’s GPS, 0252 raised his head over the lip of the low concrete wall they hid behind. He swept his eyes across the battlefield and ducked quickly as one of The Contented sprayed their position with small arms fire. Turning to Yuri, 0252 softly muttered,

"Наши товарищи чертовски врываемся, в руинах, что заправочная станция.Кобры мало ли что-нибудь, кроме проваливай, что сумму будет чертовски гнездо осиное. Из того, что он выглядит, Альфа и Браво возлагаются вниз или медленно, как дерьмо, с Эхо будучи чрезмерно. Я хочу, чтобы вы и что новые ебать с MG3 прокатиться огонь через Довольный опорный в то время как я беру немного дерьма с новой западной Оружие поддержки Squad (ПАВ), туда, где я думаю, что Альфа и должно быть. На три! "

“Our fucking Comrades are dug in, in the ruins of that fuel station. The Cobras did little if anything except piss off what’s amounting to be one hell of a hornet’s nest. From what it looks like, Alpha and Bravo are pinned down or slow as shit, with Echo being overextended. I want you and that new fuck with the MG3 to sweep fire across The Contented strongpoint while I take the little shit with the new western Squad Support Weapon (SAW) over to where I think Alpha should be. On three!”

When the count came 0252 and the little shit took off down the fence row while Yuri and the new fuck provided covering fire. Just as the plan was developing however, the man with the MG3 shuddered strangely. Yuri paid it no attention until he noticed that the firing from his left had stopped, this was a very big problem as Yuri’s M- 16A4 (CQB) could not provide the weight of fire necessary to suppress what could be a reinforced Company of Red Army Soldiers. The LCP glanced quickly over at the man and suddenly understood that the shuddering had been rounds hitting the man in the chest. Eight neat red holes were spread across the trunk of his body, with a rapidly expanding pool of blood behind the man.

Shaking his head, the LCP bent down and low crawled to the corpse’s position. He prided the MG3 from the man’s hands and raised it over the lip of the low wall. Squeezing off a burst, Yuri suddenly appreciated the amount of recoil that the gunners had to overcome. Forcing the stock back into his shoulder, he fired a slightly longer burst but stopped when he realized that The Contented had stopped firing. Silence had spread across the battlefield and out of the gloom of the gun smoke and dust, 0252 and what remained of Alpha Fireteam emerged. Waving Yuri over, 0252 rounded up the remnants of Bravo that also emerged. When Yuri reached the small gaggle of soldiers, 0252 said,

"Утверждал, должно быть, отступили. Мы заранее и обеспечить себе место в то время как мы ждем Команда не-ебет себя.Радиостанции вниз и наши бронированные поддержка замолчал около десяти минут назад. "

“The Contended must’ve retreated. We’ll advance and secure their position while we wait for Command to un-fuck itself. The radios are down and our Armored Support stopped talking about ten minutes ago.”

With that the Security Force advanced across the one time killing ground and secured what remained of the Depot. Amazingly well constructed fire points greeted them, and Yuri personally marveled at how the concrete floor of the squat single story structure had been enhanced with gouges that served as trenches. These waist high gouges allowed The Contended to move lower than most shooters expected, and probably are what allowed them to escape the AH-1 bombardment and roof’s collapse mostly unscathed.

A few minutes later, the rest of the Company moved up and occupied the Depot, making use of it’s extensive basement to house all one hundred thirty five members of the Security Force Unit. Settling himself into a fire point, Yuri raised a cigarette and produced his lighter. Twirling it in his fingers, the man pulled off his gas mask with a weary arm and popped the steel cap off the lighter. He noticed the smell just as he ignited the lighter, and single-handedly exterminated his company. If he had looked to his left, he would've seen that Comrade Upper Party Member 0252 was smiling.

***

Ivan watched the impressive scene from the safety of the prepared secondary positions in the hills around the depot. His once olive drab tunic was stained black with years of grime and dust, while his unit patch and rank pin were both immaculate. The Kalashnikov in his hands was lovingly polished, as the other four hundred rifles of the four hundred soldiers behind him were. As the flames began to die down, Ivan slipped his gas mask on and turned to face his Reinforced Company. They were young and old, Relics of the Wars against Brewdomia and new recruits who had learned of the power of the Neo Bolshevist Union in times past. They were sick and healthy, mean and idealistic, they all were soldiers of the Red Army and while they did not control their country, it was not for lack of trying.

Turning back to the now dimmer but still raging inferno, Ivan muttered,

"Разбитое, но непокоренный".

“Broken, but unbowed.”

by **United World Order** » Sun Jun 19, 2011 9:54 pm

[ MT ]

United World Order

The street outside the Union Chancellory Building was full of civlians of all age had gathered to see the leader James Thompson II deliver a speech a day after it was decided that Fascism would be the main goverment for The United World Order, The Citizens were excited and extremely joyfull as they watched on a huge moniter the Chancellor himself deliver a speech.

"Great people of our glorious United World Order, Im here to deliver a wonderfull speech to you all in attendence, This will not be forgotten" He stopped as he shaped fists in his hands and rested them on the podieum,

The crowds became silent has James begun his speech that would change the United World Order for centuries to come.

Chapter II
"Those who want to live, let them fight, and those who do not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle do not deserve to live"

The crowd was silent as James sipped a small crystal glass of water and raised his fist as he began to talk,

"People of this great nation!, I have come to you today to present our new goverment that will preserve our Nation for the centuries to come!" He spoke loud and with a serious tone and shook his fist at times when he spoke, He continued the speech,

"Fascism!, Will lead us to the future of prosperity and union in this Nation!, We will survive and continue to work and inhabit this nation for the years to come!, The Jews, The Communists, The dirty Leftists will burn in the flames of hell!, For they!, Have signed the pact with the Jewish Menace!" He stopped as he took a deep breath, The crowd were clapping in approval then it became silent as he continued,

"As Fascism will consume the world and make it pure once again!, The problems in this world, The Jews, The Communists, The Leftists, The Allah worshipers!, They will all Burn for eternity in the flames of Hell!, We will prevail over all!, " He stopped as the crowd roared and clapped in approval and likeness, Thousands and thousands of them smiling and roaring out to the inspirational speech,

He grew softer as he continued his speech with a mild tone and almost no facial emotion at all,

"When these problems are overcome, The world will truelly understand and live in peace, When these problems are over, Our Savior..The Holy one will come and deliver us into the gates of heaven!, Vahahalla awaits for us all!" He stops and raises his hands in the air saying a prayer.

The crowd roared and cheered rasing there hands aswell along with the Chancellor, James feeling pleased saluted and left the podieum and went outside to be taken back to the Reichstag.

"The doom of a nation can be averted only by a storm of flowing passion, but only those who are passionate themselves can arouse passion in others"

by **Heliocalypse** » Mon Jun 20, 2011 12:19 am

[FT]

Battle of Ilina-Ba IV, The Cause of Strathevonium

Hoturn Sans Vortulis – Today, is another grim time of chaos, of despair for Srathevonium. I, the Knight of Hoturn, seek enlightenment of the Lord. For which the deviants of the Srathevonium are coming, coming to kill us all. For sake of Srath Holy Empire, why do we have to fight? Why does it leads to this conclusion? Vortulis, our first bastion, our sanctuary against the deviants is crumbling. I knew it. The deviants will stop at nothing to kill us. If they want hell, we will give them hell. For the righteous Strathevonium, for our Lord!

Hoturn with glazed crimson red coat and long hairs of silver watched over the distance, the expanse of Vortulis over his room. With the sun glistening forty degrees of west, it's the dawn of a dusk. He saw numerous citizens of Vortulis, chanting, chanting the Third Hymn of Srathevonium towards their point of affection, a statue of their Lord. A mass congregation of sole entities, chanting their holy rites, in hope of light of salvation shall descend upon them nay, upon the whole Srath Holy Empire and cleanse the deviants of their malpractices.

“My knight of Vortulis, shall you attend to the holy rites of Ochelon?” trawled a voice across the misty air.

Closing his eyes incessantly, Hoturn quickly kneeled, “My lord, my ears are not worthy to hear of thy voice. Forgive this insolent being, for apathy, my lord”

“Arise my knight. For thou have a duty of righteous judgment, and thou forgiveness are granted as so far thou remain true to Strathevonium”

“Thy kind words are too kind to this lowly Hoturn, my lord. The deviants are coming, coming to challenge the faith of Srathevonium, my lord”

“Worry is the for the weak, my knight. Brazen with confidence of righteousness shall thou take. Did thou or not, knew of Strathevonium Rites of the Duty?”

Lowering his head even more, feeling of regret ran across Hoturn's face. With a nervous tone, he replied, “My lord, you have my eternal pledge and my life as the leverage. But, i'm worried, of the deviants. Tsarvoum almost fallen to the hands of deviants. And I see nothing more than a holy purge is enough to cleanse that vile place. It's a shame for Srath, it taints our holiness, my lord”

Slowly, Hoturn could feel the atmosphere becomes heavier and heavier till the mist in the air itself creeps across the very ground, chilling his large frame of steel and flesh. He can hear, a soft tone of melody, accompanying the heavy air, slowly infusing and mixing in the concoction of the atmosphere.

“The Holy Priestess of Ochelon present herself in the presence of the grace of the Lord. Amen” sang a soft voice, voice of temptation. Hoturn tries to move his head to witness the source of the voice, but the ominous aura that permeated the air had struck fear deep in his heart.

“Rise your head, Steel Knight of Ochelon. It's the Time of Times. Times of Trials for your loyalty, your faith, your honour or do you not know of honour?”

“Honour emboldened, in thy presence, Priestess. I'm under the jurisdiction of my lord” replied Hoturn as he reluctantly let his head facing the ground.As Hoturn spoke his words, he can feel the choking atmosphere getting heavier and heavier till the point he's unable to speak properly. In correlation of the cause, Hoturn decided to remain silent, petrified of time.

“Ahh...Germahov, what haveth thou done to my own, personal knight? The Ochelon Congregation.....will not stay silent over this debacle”

“Dear Priestess, Hoturn is a cog of gear of far grander scheme. I myself, saw that in him, he have the potential, for our dawn of absolution, and retribution”

“A black scapegoat? Thou haveth no rights unless..”

“Unless what, Priestess?”

“Prove to me, that my knight is worthy enough for thou intentions” spoke the Priestess briefly before leaving the area. As she left, Hoturn can feel the atmosphere becoming lighter again and felt his body had been released from a huge burden.

“Knight, what have thou speak of before? A difficulty of the deviants?” spoke Germahov with slightly shattering tone, after his short conversation with the Priestess.

Still having his head facing the ground, kneeling and eyes closed, slowly Hoturn replied while coughing lightly, “Yes, yes my lord. Eyes of Ochelon saw the movements, the movements of deviants. Tsarvoum had almost fallen to the hands of the wretched beings. I'm sure, in the name of Strathevonium, they will come for Tsarvoum and then proceed to this holy place”

“Hm...under His sheath, Vortulis is the protected, nay the Aegis Fortress of Strathevonium. What makes thou said that, Knight?”

“My lord, our forces are far too concentrated, in Vortulis. As the man of duty, as the one that took the path of Knight, I figured, this proposition won't bring us any good”

“In the name of Srathevonium Holy Rites of Knights, what makes thou thought of such sly situation? Our hands of judgment are far greater than the deviants”

Hoturn can feel a threatening aura slithering the atmosphere again, only to reply albeit with short pauses, “My lord, the deviants may be weak and small but they're smarts as rats. They might be inferior, but I saw how dangerous they can be, in the previous War of Rites. If we keep our forces concentrated in Vortulis, we will lose Tsarvoum and that will impact negative, negative morale on our holy priests, priestess and enlightened citizens of the Srath Holy Empire. By now, the deviants will become much much stronger and many, than their last defeat in the War of Rites, my forethought of premonitions told me”

“Hmm...this is much of a trouble indeed. Do whatever you feel best, Knight. Should thou fail, the consequences shalt be severe”

“I shall not fail thy intentions, and shall I bring the righteous fury upon the deviants” replied Hoturn, before he can feel the presence of Germahov is fading. As he's certain that Germahov had left, Hoturn slowly ascend from his kneeled position, only to find the golden iris of light tracing upon his eyes. The Time of Times indeed, for the first bastion of Strath Holy Empire.

Slowly walking into a dark room, Hoturn can feel the presence of numerous beings, hidden from the light. He speak lightly, upon the shadows of presence, that he had felt, "The deviants are coming. What do thou of the Council suggest to handle with the vile deviants?"

"Our forces, must be spread to tactical positions, vantage points. This system, as declared by Srath Holy Empire have of an asteroid belt. We could use the belt as our first line of defense, against the deviants"

"Phallix, your inexperience is clearly lacking. The area is far to from us, why are we going to there when what they want is right here?"

"Calm down, gentlemen. Phallix, explain to this Steel Knight, why made you thought of that?"

"As in last war of War of Rites, we had used the same tactics against them, we flung mass of asteroids towards their fleet. I'm not surprised if they adopted the same tactics"

As his eyes becomes accommodated to the low light, Hoturn can slightly figure out the trace lines of the patrons, in the dark room. Slowly scratching his head, he replied, "So, we just need to stop them is it? I shall bring the whole fleet of Lord's Fists if i need to"

"No need, powerful they may, but the fleets are too slow to react with the deviants fast ships. I, Phallix, suggests that we set up far greater patrol and communication between our fleets, so their movements could be detected, far more earlier before they lay siege on Vortulis and Tsarvoum"

"And, what about Tsarvoum? Our fleets will be spread thin and wide if we foolishly follow your plan, Phallix" spoke an union of voice in the room.

Thinking deeply, Hoturn thought of a plan, "Well, we shall call in reinforcements and put fast ships on the frontlines to intercept their debauchery. The main Vortulis fleet shall be broken into three, one for Vortulis, one for Tsarvoum and another for the node of the patrol fleets for the asteroid belt"

"Good idea, Knight. We shall put the plan into action. Meeting now dismissed, may our Lord protect us all"

"Amen, be strong, my brothers and sisters" replied Hoturn before he quietly left the room. With brazen confidence, he marched out of the room and into a waiting transport. To board his ship, the Fist of Judgement.

by **Heliocalypse** » Mon Jun 20, 2011 11:12 am

[FT]

Battle of Ilina-Ba IV, Usurpation

Coordinates 371FG:437294:1834XE
Gharhur Asteroid Belt
Jishi-Da's commanded Sword Fleets

“Jishi-Da, arrived in the area have we, what's next?”

“Scan, the area. The heretics might be waiting for us here”

“Ikai-do, Jishi-Da. Start of scan had begun”

With seven blue pulses, numerous extensions of somesort of arrays emanated from most of the ships in the Sword Fleets. Emitting a tranquil yet subtle wave of detection, it echoed, and spread across the area rapidly. Upon receiving the return pulse, it all registered as negative, of possible heathen's presence.

“Jishi-Da, it's plan initialization time. Swords of Kavoh-Ge ready for orders”

“Ikai-do, Swords of Nahar-Ki ready for slaying”

“Swords of Orona-Ba mobilized”

“Ikai-do, for the glory of Maeki! Swords of Jugo-Ha ready!”

“Today my brethren, the Jao heretics shall tremble before us! Ikai-do! Begin the tug of heavens now!” screamed Jishi-Da to his fleet com device. With his order resonated between the Swords Fleets, numerous green pulses started to spread across the fleets in the asteroid belt rapidly in a flash.

The Sword Fleets commanded by Jishi-Da hid between the large floating asteroids in the belt area, emerged and started to unleash their silhouettes, shadowing the rotating debris. Slowly but surely, the numerous ships starts to alter the trajectory of the asteroids, bit by bit with increasing momentum.

“Burn all thrusters! Force for deflection is not enough!”

“Ikai-do! Burning full thrusters!”

As they tried all their might to displace the asteroids from its orbit paths, one lone probe watched over them, silently. The probe, bearing the design of Srath Holy Empire emblem quickly propelled itself across the space in sequence, hiding between small asteroids and darting numerous times to avoid detection. It returned into one small ship, hidden amongst the floating and rotating asteroids.

“Deviants....they're doing exactly what we did in War of Rites...what should we do, Sir?”

“Inform the Sanctioner Patrols. We should stop them as soon as possible by relaying the message”

“With duty, Sir. Putting orders into effect”

As silent as the space itself, the small ship moves from its position, latched on a wandering asteroid and into the nearest position to Sanctioner Patrol. The patrol, is one of many small fleets of Srath Holy Empire, tasked to scout and scanning areas for intruders.

“Aseo-Ta, did you notice that? A small asteroid had veered off course” spoke one of Aseo-Ta's deckhand to him that was facing the sensor console. He moved aside and let Aeso-Ta to attend to the console.

Facing the sensor console, Aeso-Ta swiftly plotted lines, trajectory lines for the objects that may come out from the asteroid belt, “Hm...maybe a wandering asteroid...well caution more we can...contact the free fleets of Swords of Taicha-Ne over band Lidak-Vo”

“Ikai-do, Aeso-Ta” answered his deckhand with military precision. The deckhand pressed unto a few buttons before a floating communication interface revealed itself in front of him, glowing in light blue colour and filled with letters of Ki-Leina.

“Haema, I suspect the heathens knew we're coming, what we shall do?”

“Aeso-Ta, proceed with the plan. I had instructed, some of the Swords of Taicha-Ne to prepare a surprise for the heathens. Worry last, service of Maeki first. Lovoc-Fa and Jishi-Da shall bless you”

“Maeki, ikai-do, haema. Shall us stand victorious again”

Nanoh-Ka quickly ordered the remaining Swords of Taicha-Ne to go to their designated points. The fleets installed many remote sensors and numerous booster packs on asteroids deemed to be useful for Nanoh-Ka's plan. Grinning lightly, Nanoh-Ka sang a light tune of Maeki, which can be heard across his ship, resonating and echoing across the sleek ship.

“Squire Lotharn, we had detected the deviants in the asteroid belt. Phillax and the Steel Knight are right. The deviants are getting smarter”

Lotharn, a veteran from the War of Rites stands valiantly in his command bridge. Jet crimson coat serve his clothing, with hair of black flowed from his head. Wearing a specially made Srathian spectacles, Lotharn piqued his attention to the new report that had come in.Chipping a piece of solid glucose, Lotharn answered, “Good work. And how many of them are out there?”

“Around, two or four small fleets and they're at various locations in the asteroid belt. It seems that the deviants are trying to corner Vortulis into submission”

“Call the Executor fleet for backup, we shall flush the vermin out”

As Lotharn made the order, the Sanctioner fleet quickly mobilize itself towards the postulated positions of Chinsido-Ga fleets. Bearing a tight formation and all guns faced forwards, it's directly marching forward, chugging along the dark backdrop of space.

“Jishi-Da, one Jao patrol fleet is coming for us, as sensor told” reported Aeso-Ta, one of the ship captains in the Nahar-Ki fleet.

“Hm? So prediction I made is right. Lure them into the asteroid belt. The asteroids you can use as cover. Tell the other fleets to be ready for the heathens”

Jishi-Da with other three fleets quietly hid near one of the moon near Ilina-Ba II while the part of the fleets he commanded hid amongst the asteroids. He had split his forces into two, one for the asteroids and another, for covering the fleets of Mel-Kado once she had the attention of the heathens' fleets. Moving ever closer, the Sanctioner Fleet quickly activated its weapon systems.

“Where are they? They had disappeared?”

“Squire Lotharn, may I suggest we scan the area? They might be still around the area, hidden from sensors view”

Lotharn nodded as a sign of approval. Gazing upon the view, he can tell the characteristics shape of a Srathian made space radar upon another ship in the Sanctioner Fleet. Crooked in three places, lined grey and red, the radar emitted a series of pulses to detect the exact position of their hiding adversary. After a few lengthy period of time, the radar slowly retracted into its sheath. Lotharn thought the news of the deviants present in their location was a hoax, until his deckhand detected something unusual.

“Squire, we had picked up something unknown, what shall we do?” said his deckhand while pointing at one specific area on a floating image of the area.

“Fire, concentrate all firepower on that spot! Other ships, break off! Don't get caught in their line of fire!” screamed Lotharn into his ship intercom.

Numerous pillars of red light emanated from his ship's cannons and multitude of torpedoes ejected from the lines of his ship. The fast pillars of red slammed into various asteroids in the area, vaporizing small ones and splitting larger ones as the torpedoes begin their slow acceleration towards the target. Other ships in the Sanctioner Fleet had begun their barrage as well, when they had arrived in their new location, bombarding the area suspected to hide the deviant's ship.

“Jishi-Da, they had begun shooting. Vessel of Jiki-Do had suffered some damage but had escaped, chase them shall we?”

“No, stay in cover and fire tactically. Jao heretics had made their ship tough, we have no chance facing it directly. Use tactics, like an ant fighting a giant”

With swiftness and sleekness, the Sword Fleets in the asteroid belt tactically positioned themselves, while the constant light of red slammed in various random places. The Jao heretics is desperate it seems, to the captain of the Sword Fleets. Opening series of green circles, Nahar-Ki and Orona-Ba fleet had begun their counter fire composed of small, fast missiles. It's a matter of time, for Jishi-Da before the Jao heathens wiped off his forces in the asteroid belt with a large fleet, or so he thought.

by **New Azura** » Mon Jun 20, 2011 7:20 pm

[ MT ]

Never Retreat

Hello.

My name is Steve, and it’s… well, I can’t say that it’s really a pleasure, because you really have to be off your rocker to land a spot here. I, uh… wow, this is more awkward than I thought… I’m a former executive officer of a very elite crew. And, um…

Well, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m in here because a few of my superiors were worried about me taking the “last hurrah” and ganking myself. Since I’m here talking to you, I guess you can see that they weren’t without reason for their fears. So instead of getting locked up in a mental ward, I decided to volunteer for assisted therapy here in the program. I, uh, got my honorary button at the door. The cookies are tasty, too.

The crew that I worked for… God, they were the best of the best. If you made it in with this crew, you were set for life, let me tell ya. There was no greater honor to be had, until I kind of blew it. Made the biggest mistake of my life, and now I’m paying for it.

I guess it’s hard to understand why the job was so meaningful to me, when it was something of a hobby to everyone else. On the crew, you were part of a family. And family is something I’ve never really had—not for awhile, at least. But there, even though I was completely different from the lot of them, I felt like I had a family again. It was a special kind of feeling.

I started several years ago, and worked my way up from crew to crew, trying to find the right fit. When you make it, though, you’re set in that one little crew for life, and you don’t ever want to move about or find another. That’s part of the reason that things went so badly for me.

I went AWOL, and attacked the commander of the crew verbally. It was a bit of pranking, really, that led to my dismissal as an executive officer. It floored me though, and I lost control of my emotions. And…

Have you ever heard the expression “you can never go home again”? It kind of applies to me, I guess. The only thing really keeping me from going home is… well, it’s not pride in the typical sense. I have no pride, really. It’s a fear, I guess… a fear of rejection, a fear of loathing. A fear of being treated like a bastard, I guess.

My old trainer once said that I was like a duck on the pond. On the surface, I was as cool as I could be. But underneath, I was churning as fast as I could. I guess it applies now, too… I, uh, never have been able to settle down in any one spot. Some people said it was because I was orphaned at an early age… others because my wife walked out, or because I was a brooding loner.

I’ve been in service to my country for almost five years now. I’ve worked as hard as I could to make myself and the people around me the best that they could be. I found my way on a multinational crew that accepted only the best of the best. Yet on the inside, there was a dark passenger riding with me, that would never let me fully settle into my life. It was waiting, like a cryptic shadow, for the right moment to consume my every sense of being.

I’m just twenty-five years old, and the masses would holler “you’ve got your whole life in front of you, young man!” But life lost its luster for me, and I gave of myself to ensure that my crewmates were my life. It didn’t seem fair to make plans to ever depart from them, because they had saved my soul from the grave more often than they could possibly realize. That’s why I’m here now, I think.

I fear that I’ve cost myself inclusion in a mentorship program through the agency. I know that I’ve been busted down to private aboard my crew. And every time I even so much as think about the crewmates that I’ve offended… my insides feel like they’ve been knifed repeatedly. I can’t begin to imagine what life would be like without them…

When the incident went down, I gave serious consideration to ending everything. I thought about my shotgun, for a time, but the firing coil is bent. The last time I tried… you know, it didn’t go over so well. I’d loaded a shell into the gun, had cocked it, and tried to fire the weapon. By the Grace of God, it didn’t fire. Still, it was a nerve-wracking experience, to stare death down and live to tell about it.

I tried to strangle myself once, in a fit of anger and depression. I wasn’t really thinking it through all the way. I tried to impale myself, if you will, on the edge of a short riser. I knew deep down that it wouldn’t work, but I almost willed myself to crush my larynx on that altar edge, hoping that God would strike me down.

No dice, obviously. I tried to will myself to end things… but I couldn’t. No matter what my friends thought of me, I couldn’t leave them behind. You see, my crewmates… they weren’t just the only friends I had. They were my life. I may not have had a wife back home waiting to pump out babies, but I had my friends. When the world crashed around me, they had stood with me, put up with me, endured me.

That’s why I’m here now… to make sense of what this country, and this role has done to me, and what I can do to fix it. See, I’m not sure that it can be fixed, personally, but I know deep down that if I lose this, there’s nothing left. I gave serious consideration to finding another clique, another crew… but how could you go from the best crew in all the world to something that was second best…

And that’s when I realized why I was here. It’s because I’m a slave to my country! In every sense of the word, I’m chained to the servicing of my country in the corporeal realm. I feel as though no matter what I do, or where I go, the existence of my country depends on my service to it. If I don’t step up… it would just vanish, poof! I know that I’m out to lunch on that one, but still… it haunts me night and day, to think that no matter how poisonous it is, I’m bound to suffer like this forever. That’s why I almost ended it all today. I very nearly decided that life just wasn’t worth living anymore, my country be damned. I would have rather my country been destroyed than to suffer in my service another minute.

I took a knife out of a drawer in my kitchen, and placed it up to the main artery. The blade was a bit cool to the touch, but I’d gotten used to the feeling of impending death. Somehow, I knew that this was it… that if I was able to kill the cowardice inside, that I could end the pain, and wipe out the miserable existence of a broken crewman.

But then, as I was about to clean the slate of everything that had gone wrong, I remembered something, so eloquent in design, yet so precious in truth. You see, I fell in love, once, with a woman who I didn’t really know all that well. She didn’t even know me, of course, so it was more of that “wish fulfillment / pipe dream” affairs. I talked with her daily, and had a pretty good friendship going until I fucked it up, as per usual with me.

Even so, there was a time, before she knew my embarrassing little truth, that the world held a glimmer of hope. I saw things not as they were, but as they could be. And I knew that for every crisis, every destructive influence that had been loosed in my life, by the choice of my own hand or the external forces of fate, there would always be one glimmer of hope not of what is, or even what would be, but what could have been.

I know it seems odd, but I started thinking not of what would happen, but what I’d thrown away. I thought about the laughs that I would have had with my friend on the crew that would probably never happen. I thought about the friendly talk about the night prior’s game that would suddenly have less of a jovial tone, and more of a blunt, nonchalant ring to it. And I thought about every single good thing that I had thrown away, and every incredible moment that I had ruined for the rest of my life… and stayed my hand anyways.

I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t do it. I knew in my heart that I could never retreat. Even if it meant working my way all the way from the lowest of the low back to the highest of the high, I knew that I had to do it. But it wasn’t for the glory… no, it was never about the glory to begin with.

Even if my crew never wanted to see me again, I had to stay. I couldn’t go away. They may hate me now, but the hate would mellow over time. No, I wouldn’t be staying to repair the damage done, because the damage wasn’t even really to them, but to me. Their scars would fade, but I would forever carry mine with me like the first morning after the loss of a loved one. It would singe me every time I thought about it… but still I would soldier on.

I can never retreat from my crew, even in this, my darkest hour. I have nothing else, you see, and when you base your life on something as insignificant as your crew… your brothers and sisters, the only people you truly love… you can’t ever leave them, no matter how much they might want you to leave them.

I never thought about my life, or my service to them in such a manner before. I knew, just as I know now, that no matter what the cost… to my pride, to the fear that I have every time I face them… I know in my heart that I must be there if they need me. I am their silent guardian, keeping vigil in the shadows, always prepared to rise up and give them a shoulder to lean on if they need one. I owe them my life… now they have mine in return.

One day, my crew will move on, to bigger and better things. So may I, you never know… but tonight, as I conclude my speech, I realize that life right now means being a friend, even if they don’t want a friend in return. I will stand by in case they ever need me, and in this I am content. It may not be a role that many would enjoy, but I will take the mantle and carry it with me wherever I go. I do this for the love that I can never have… for the joy that has been cast asunder by anger. I do this not for me, but for them. For I love them, and I cannot leave them.

I almost killed myself tonight. But when you’re apart of a crew, sometimes you have to suck it up and remember that a member of the crew can never retreat.

And still I march on. Never retreat, Steve. Never retreat.

by **Heliocalypse** » Tue Jun 21, 2011 4:27 am

[FT]

Path of Maeki – A day of Kai-Shuna of Jagyo Clan

Chapter Theme

I looked outside of the window. It was a peaceful day, sunlight tracing my skin, and the winds of Jiha-Ka slowly ripples through the frame of my body. I can hear, i can feel, a call. A call to greatness, the call of Maeki. Harmonious ode of Maeki-Doho wandered through the air, such a beautiful song.

As i stretched my very own hands, i feel a light tap on my shoulder. Hano-Do was it, my friend, my comrade of Maeki. Her blue eyes, a calming tone greeted me. She whispered, it's time, time for move before she left my room. For all glory of Path of Maeki. I donned the cloth of my sect, Jagyo Clan of Maeki. Three leaves as a symbol, colored white and lined pink is my clan's cloth. I can see Hano-Da was waiting for me, outside.

As I'm walking outside, the light becomes more brighter and brighter while an invigorating smell slowly seeps in my nose. I took the staff of my clan, a red staff lined with gold, an official piece of my clan. The staff opened twice, revealing the teachings of Maeki once in form of Ki-Leina writings suspended in mid air. As the staff closed itself, I swung the staff around. A good staff, neither heavy or light. It was awarded to me, as a symbol of acceptance to the clan. The clan is one of the many clans of Maeki. All served for the glory of Maeki.

Hano-Da waved at me, to tell me to hasten my plight. Looking for my shoes, it was chaotic. I can hear the kai-shunage begun their sermons, sermons of Maeki, “Ikaie-do, Maeki, yaaaanah aaahako Maeki! Ieatsuma jaha-do ikaie-do Maeki!” Finally fitted my shoes, Hano-Da tugged my cloth from the left. She looked at me for a second, before facing the opposite direction. I saw the elders of my clan lined up in the Jagyo Clan platform. They don't seem happy, furiously stared at me, as they're busing reciting the Ki-Leina of Maeki.

It seems I had missed the morning recital, so I thought. Trying to hasten my movement, I bumped into someone. The person was beautiful, wearing the symbol of Chinsido-Ga clan. My eyes met with the person, and my thoughts were drown in her or his beauty, i'm not sure. Suddenly I felt a slap on my cheek, and felt myself was tugged forward by Hano-Da. I turned my head around to witness the upbringing of the unknown person, only to see the person smiled back to me, as i'm tugged away from the area.

“Kai-shuna jihido of Jagyo Clan, sheath your attention and Maeki recite must you take” whispered a voice in my ear. It was my clan elder, the First Kai-Shuna. I replied slowly, “Ikai-do, Istas-da”. Moving through the flight of small stairs, I saw Hano-Da moved away in order to let me join the elders. A red ritual platform it is, raised a few jihi above the ground. I sat in one of the empty position, and put my staff horizontally on the socket in the platform.

Words of Maeki appeared before me, floating in mid air. And thus I sang, the song, the hymn and the ode of Maeki.

Dake-Ayeno - Kai-Shuna Jihido, Ma-Qido Jagyo, Personal log of the Fourth Kai-Shuna of Jagyo Clan.

by **Heliocalypse** » Tue Jun 21, 2011 8:03 am

[FT]

Hollered Time of Times, of Strathevonium Sordivc Priest

Chapter Theme

"Sempfer pfice, phisfor drifhovc, sompher yathre, yathre sthrovic,"
"Sempfer pfice, phisfor drifhovc, sompher yathre, yatrhe sthrovic,"
"Sempfer pfice, phisfor drifhovc, sompher yatrhe, yatrhe yathrvic!"

I awakened, to hear the holy rites of Strathevonium. There stands I, in a raised platform upon hundreds, nay thousands of Strathevonium followers. They're chanting, they're reciting, they're screaming of all one thing. The First Rite of Strathevonium, Time of Times. Dusting my crimson robe, I took the Codex of Rites from my robe, to upheld, to recite and to unleash the words of the Lord. The codex, i put upon the encrypt stone and it opened automatically, revealing the words of the Lord, floating in front of me and upon the whole plaza.

“Sempfer pfice, phisfor drifhovc, sompher yathre, yathre sthrovic!” recited myself over the vox. My voice resonated across the plaza, echoed between the solid walls of Srathvo and in tune of all of the devotees of Strathevonium, the Knight Order, the Ochelon Congregation, Squires and many more.

Flanked by many Priest and Priestess, I continued to recite rites of Strathevonium. Our voices mixed together, enthralled in resonance. With braven confide, I continued the rites till the Third Hymn of Strathevonium, where I felt, the Titothv Priestess touched my shoulder, signaling it's time, time to close the ceremony. Thrusting my left hand into the air, I signaled, it's the time to stop the vigil, the chants, of Rites of Strathevonium.

“For whom that walks the path of Strathevonium! For those that put the Rites of Strathevonium forth! It's time! The Time of Times! And now! It's time, to adjourn!” spoke my voice over the vox interface. I can see many wailing, many cries slithering through the air. I retook the codex from the encrypt stone and the words of Lord quickly dissipates into thin air.

“Priest of Sordivc, thou hath recited well. The time hath cometh, do thou notice?”

I quickly kneeled to the ground, to answer the voice, “Yes, my Priestess. The chants of the Lord, hath stopped. What are thy wishes?”

“Upon the very lands of Srathevonium where, the Lord once walkth, I ask of one thing, Priest of Sordivc”

“Pledge my faith for the Lord, what are thy bidding?”

“Stay true, stay true to Rites of the Lord, and shalt thou be blessed”

I heard the voice fading away, before I stands up again, only to witness the mass of people over the plaza dispersing in multitude of directions. The time of the chant, the time of rites had brought to an end. Putting the codex again in my robe, slowly I paced my steps to board off the platform, followed by the flanking Priest and Priestess.

As I stepped away, I saw a beautiful face of a Priestess, incessantly her eyes fixated upon the statue of the Lord, although her eyes are closed shut. Not of my interest for long, I moved my vision away, till I hear the same voice what i heard before. Surely Lord had brought His Trials to test me I thought. Chanting away, I quickly left the scene with precision.

Sordivc Priest's Lament of the Times - Personal diary excerpt of the Sordivc Priest

by **Arkinesia** » Fri Jun 24, 2011 5:51 pm

[PT (circa 1964)]

[Mature (for strong violence and language)]

The Wrong Will Fail…

"Name and rank!"

Nothing but darkness. It felt strangely wet. Maybe it was the blood. Maybe it was the dank room.

"Name and rank!" It was a rough voice, one with the accent of an Amerikian or something.

"Tell me your fucking name and your RANK!" The officer was growing exasperated. Finally, a light flicked on.

He was wearing a dust gray uniform. Some bastard who thought he was going to break the man he had beaten. This man, now beaten and bleeding, however, was too deep in thought, in memory…

"Name and rank!" This wasn't the voice he was used to. Then it clicked. Tiger. Weren't those the days? Training at Thomas Pennington Air Force Base. They trained him for this. It all came down to this moment. "Name and rank!" Finally, almost on cue, he spoke to his 'interrogator.' "Name, 754-56. Rank, none."

The interrogator opened the door and uncuffed him. "Jesus, Lawalata, you're colder than ice. Most of these maggots just break down. It's as if their Army training goes right out the window."

SSG Lawalata hadn't seen the light of day in about three days. The intensive training course was about to strike his given name and his rank from the records. Before long, he would be in Special Operations Group Six, Platoon Bravo. Now, he was ready. He wouldn't crack far enough to give away his real name, or his old Army rank. The enemy could try to track him, but it would be in vain. "Andre, you're ready. Go forth and conquer. The wrong will fail, the right prevail!"

Andre now had to go to a final orientation briefing. He hoped it wouldn't be as painful as…

…but wait, he thought. This is all a memory. Then his thoughts jumped to his son, his little boy, Daniel. His wife, Kartini, staying at home caring for a son who may not have a father again. God, let me get away from here, he prayed. Make these evil men let go of me.

"You, son of a bitch! Your name and your fucking rank! Or I'll beat it out of you!"

I'm not Andre anymore, he thought to himself. I'm Magan. And I cannot be tamed. Through the din of the buzzing lamp, and the incoherent yelling of the officer interrogating him, Magan swore he could hear some of his platoonmates' gunfire. It was suppressed, to be sure. But that didn't sound like an enemy AKM going off. Magan brought himself up to full level.

"The wrong…will fail…the right…prevail…"

As the word 'prevail' trailed from his lips, an explosion. A small one. The door blew in. "GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!"

Magan recognized that voice. It was not of Bravo Six-One, but of Alpha Six-One…Pencil.

And in that moment, Magan knew he would see his family again.

by **The Kingdom of Ends** » Fri Jun 24, 2011 9:33 pm

An Introduction to the Kingdom of Ends

[FT]

[ Mature ]

At the Court of the Grand Inquisition, Andreas, The Kingdom of Ends.

The Grand Inquisitor -- identified simply as “E. Moore” -- eyed the accused as they were raised on a modest crystal pedestal from the depths of a subterranean incarceration facility. The accused was Doris Goodfellow, the banal and impoverished hausfrau that looked at the court with a face that visibly wished to discharge tears but held them habitually. Doris looked around the courthouse, dazed in intimidation, she spun around observing the crystal gallery in all of its sublimity, its rich architecture, pillars throughout the lobby engraved with words: ‘duty’, ‘ought is can’, ‘good-will’ ect., one could even see a stained-glass oculus – a depiction of a triangle of the formulations.

In the Kingdom of Ends, there was no defense, no case to be made for Doris – she had to testify to the Grand Inquisitor and axiomatic justice would decide her fate for her.

The Grand Inquistion courtroom was a lonely place – all trials were bench trials, the only occupants were twelve crystal hound statues that encircled the accused and of course, the Inquisitor at his scintillating bench, towering over the accused.

“Speak. Speak your ills,” ordered the Grand Inquisitor.

Doris sniffled, “But what, oh Grand Inquisitor, if I lie?”

“Then you will have violated the categorical imperative, the foremost of moral obligations – the universality that is the fundamental pillar for our Kingdom, built with the synthesis of our few a priori truths that offers itself as the ground for our community. ‘Act only in accordance with that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it become a universal law’. Did you need to be reminded of this, Ms. Goodfellow? SPEAK!” bellowed the Grand Inquisitor.

Doris whimpered. It had been the first time she had cried since she was an infant. She shook her head at the bench.

The Inquisitor nodded, “Very good. Now –- as previously commanded -- speak your ills,”

Ms. Goodwill occasionally paused to cry as she explained the nature of her crime, “I… um, my children and I are very poor, oh Grand Inquisitor, we live in the slums an—“

“And your current fiscal and social circumstances are irrelevant to whether or not the actions you are accused of, were actually committed, or whether or not this behavior was right or wrong. Understood?” interrupted the Grand Inquisitor.

“Affirmative. The accusations are correct, I stole a fruit -- an apple from a marketplace. One of my children was ill of malnutrition and I just couldn’t bear to see him to die like his fath—“

The Grand Inquisitor held up his hand to signal Doris to stop, the hound statues breathed fire on this command.

“But you could bear to see the second moral law of our Kingdom violated? Reason and Morality are linked, moral evaluation of your conduct needs no justification and any such justification is immaterial. Deontological discernment observes a specific domain for moral evaluation, the act and whether it is right, wrong or permissible. Unfortunately for you, your act was morally prohibited – a class of actions that are bad to do and good not to do,” explained the Grand Inquisitor.

Doris screamed at the Inquisitor, “HOW DARE YOU! My child was going to die -- what kind of universal law is one that permits children to die that could have been saved!?”

The Grand Inquisitor smiled deviously, “The act of theft is universally a violation of the Second Formulation of the Categorical Imperative. To thieve is to use the legitimate owner of the stolen chattel as a means – if property is not taken without their honored consent. You arguably had an assertoric-hypothetical imperative to assist your child, but it was an imperfect duty that you override a perfect duty for, likely out of emotional inclination. The prevention of your child’s untimely death is an indefinite end, whether or not he would actually die is simply postulated by you – but not provable at the time of your decision,”

Doris began to cry miserably, sobbing madly, unable to stand any longer, she sat down and cried into her lap.

The Grand Inquisitor bellowed, “Stand! And do not cry in my presence any longer, it is most unbecoming,”

Doris wiped her bleary eyes and stood up to face the bench.

“Better,” appraised the Inquisitor, “Now, it is time for you to be reminded of the community that you have been a member of, for some considerable time. This is the Kingdom of Ends, a land where all are morally obligated to act as if they were through their maxims a law-making member, where our children are taught the Categorical Imperative before they are taught how to tie their shoes, their building blocks are not wood but synthetic and analytic propositions, knowledge both a priori and a posteriori , where our moral system operates like an immunological body – it finds the bacterial strands of the irrational and the immoral and purges it from the system in self-defense. Jus talionis is a response to guilt, when one steals from someone, they steal from themselves,”

Doris shook her head, “What have I stolen from myself?”

The Grand Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, “Your life, of course,”

Ms. Goodfellow probably should have been crying at this moment, but her actual response was more logical than one would have expected, “But, oh Grand Inquisitor, how can one steal from themselves. If one steals from themselves then it is actually consented and therefore not stealing?”

The Inquisitor chuckled, “Goodbye Ms. Goodfellow, only in death can your guilt be responded,”

Unexpectedly, the twelve crystal statue hounds became animated and charged at Doris, pushing her to the floor, they eventually consumed her and cleaned up the remains as the Inquisitor watched from afar, taking the opportunity to eat his lunch break.

“Hhhm, I do love a good turkey sandwich,” admitted the Grand Inquisitor to himself out loud with his mouth still full of food.

Some of the hounds licked the pedestal clean of fluids, others played with the bones, chewing at them with their paws gripped on them. Eventually the pedestal would be cleaned for the next defendant.

by **Heliocalypse** » Sat Jun 25, 2011 6:10 am

[FT]

[ Mature ]

Ground Battle Scene One

“Load all that red rounds! We need to saturate Sector Eight with constant barrage so the dropships can have clear skies!”

“Major! Enemy mech unit had appeared! It's the Sankayu mech squad! They're moving in fast in one click! They're coming to kill us!”

“Damn! Load up the purple rounds instead!”

The major, bearing the name of Hevan clearly pressured by the situation. Tears of sweat rolled over his face, upon hearing the news of Sankayu squad had appeared. For his small GOTOH unit, facing the new enemy squad directly means instant death. Shaken but not morally reduced, Hevan quickly used his radio.

“Anyone there?! We got Sankayus coming towards us!”

“Sorry major, we got our hands full with the enemy aero fighters, they're eating away our airspace”

“Whatever! Just get those rusty gunships units here! We can't suppress fire for Sector Eight!”

“Bzzt..”

“Oh..crap...don't tell me..the ATC had been hit? Shit! Soldiers! Full retreat! We need to get the hell outta here!” shouted Hevan as he accidentally dropped his radio on the ground. He can feel the ground is rumbling beneath his feet.

With his order, all of his soldier under his command frantically ran into their artillery vehicles. It was chaos, with bullets strafing and missiles flying overhead. The Sankayu mechs had begun their barrage. One of the GOTOH unit soldier was killed, a bullet had turned his head into a red mist, another two were consumed by an exploding missile and one artillery vehicle imploded in a blue flame. Barely hit by a flying bullet, Hevan fervently started his vehicle engine, followed by other remaining artillery vehicles of the GOTOH unit.

“Mecor ready” speaks Reno with his intercom. Swaying his suit arm around, he looked deep into the suit interface.

Reno noticed his suit com interface glowed, and it spoke, “Brace for impact, launching...now!”

His suit flung into the air, detached from the flying dropship. Cruising at half the speed of the sound, Reno can clearly see the target area with his suit's optical module before curling up into a spherical shape. Three trails of misty air marks his ballistic trajectory while Reno calmly waits to arrive. However, his arrival is going to be not properly greeted by the waiting patrons.

Near a building ruin, Saren efficiently worked her mech controls, firing in calculated trajectories to kill the fleeing targets. Her actions were followed the rest of her unit. Guns blaring and missiles whizzed off her mech, as it's aimed at the target. She was about to conduct a check on her ammo level, till a warning klaxon buzzed, “Warning, foreign object detected on incalculable trajectory at speed of 120 km/h. Estimated impact time in 10 seconds”

“Jogoh, you and other two mechs go set Perimeter 34C. We got a new contender” spoke Saren in her intercom.

Jogoh, paused from his firing regime quickly responded with a nagging tone, “Awww what?! I was close to kill the enemy arty! Killjoy...”

“This is an order. Do it or I will blow your head off with this small cannon” pointed Saren to Jogoh's mech with her mech plasma cannon. After the short conflict, she placed her view upon the sky, witnessing the accelerating object or so she thought.

Slumping around with a disappointed face, Jogoh quickly moves forward, “Ok ok, but that arty is mine. You go deal with the flying thing”. His movement is followed by other two mechs, slowly marching through the ruins.

As Jogoh tries to move forward, a large object landed on top of his mech. It's Reno, with his suit curled up. The impact of the collision slightly fractured Jogoh's mech, pinning him down and sent dust flying around, covering the area with a mist of dust. Reno arrival however, didn't go unnoticed as the other mech units of the Sankayu squads noticed the sudden generation of the dust front.

“Argh! Get off me!” screamed Jogoh as he tries to wriggle away from Reno's heavy suit.

Reno, slightly dizzy from the impact responded “Erm...i suppose..you guys are...friendly..is it?”

“Halt. Don't move” spoke Saren as she aimed her mech's cannon towards Reno's suit. Her action was followed in sequence of the nearby mech of the Sankayu Squad.

“Major! They stopped shooting us!” spoke one of Hevan's henchmen as he noticed the air wasn't full of buzzing sounds, sounds of flying bullets and missiles.

Hevan, grinning happily heard of the call and rapidly issued a new order, “Eh? Good! Turn around and fire all barrels! Time for revenge!”

The remaining artillery vehicles rapidly aimed their cannons towards their previous location. Hevan pushed the button on the console and noticed his artillery cannon load a purple round automatically with declaration of three hums of a mechanical voice. The movement was followed by other two artillery vehicle, before they started to hurl their dangerous payload forward with slight whiff of muffled sound.

“Identify yourself or me and my mates will turn you into a beehive” speak Saren using her mech's speaker. Her words carries a threatening tone as heard by Reno.

Seeing the seriousness of the situation, Reno nervously responds, “Erm..I'm supposed...err..to....”

“Your time is up. All units, open fire” ordered Saren to her squad. Three rounds of a flying projectile struck one of the mech as they were about to begin shooting Reno.

The struck mech lost its arm as the round tactfully hit its servo by chance. Saren noticed it and quickly withdrawn from the area as more flying projectiles followed suit, “Damn! All units, take cover!”

The struck mech however aren't so lucky as another two flying projectile accurately hit its head and core, causing the mech to blow up in green ball of fire. Hevan, watched from a long distance squealed in victory, on getting a few successful hits, until he saw the remaining mechs quickly disappeared from his sight. A lone round struck Reno's suit and pushed him backwards as he didn't notice the slurry of the projectiles. He was lucky, unlike the blown out mech.

A garbled voice come through Hevan's intercom, "Major, stop shooting, your reinforcement is there. It's Colonel Reno of the Third PA Squad. He should had been arrived by now to your location with other two PAs"

"Wait...what?" exclaimed Hevan in a surprised tone. He quickly issued another order to his unit to stop shooting. A column of dust was slowly piling up in their weapons targeted area before it dispersed with an aid of a billowing wind.

by **Nzyghistan** » Sat Jun 25, 2011 7:08 am

[MT]

Part of the Red July series
From the Dark

It crackled into life.

"We don't have much time."

"Let's just get this down."

The second voice of them took a deep breath before continuing. "This is Atamalar. It is July the third, nineteen seventy-three. We are under attack."

"They came from the dark. We had not heard from them in decades - we had thought them dead, scattered, long gone. None of us know where they were hiding; most of the others think the Devil sent them. There is no city left - outside? It is just rubble. The artillery has stopped, for now. We know what is next."

"My father fought the Communists after the Revolution. They recognised the country was weak in the chaos of transition, and they struck hard. They sieged the ports and cut the us off from its lifeline - they flattened the city I am recording this. The reds are doing the same now. We cannot let this pass."

"If this gets out, I want you to know the colours of communism. They have reduced cities to rubble and are coming for us now...for what? They will succeed, I know this. I do not have much time left. If you are listening to this, I died defending my country."

"If the Republic is to survive, the Communists must all die. We will start the victory."

A faint, approaching rumbling sprung up. Things began falling, shattering on the floor. Men were shouting, loud wailing filling the background. The men's shouting became fainter, but the shrieks remained.

I stopped the recording, though the howls did not follow it.

by **Romivul** » Fri Jul 01, 2011 9:01 pm

''Mobscene'' {MT}

Romivulian society was in a state of revolution. It was a peaceful revolution, but a very influential and important one. Famous socialist filmmakers in Romivul such as Erin Jou and Lon Hediger had created some of the most successful movies in Romivulian history. Their influence was large on Romivulian society and poll numbers consistently showed that their popular films that advocated socialism were a factor in the amount of Romivulians who supported the Romivul Socialist Party. The Romivul Center for Political Statistics estimates the number of RSP supporters to be around 58% which was an increase from 27% only a decade earlier.

This worried the Romivul Republic Party who's support among Romivulians was consistently declining. Romivul has always been the epitome of a Capitalistic society and the government had always looked at the poor with complete indifference. The government had cancelled all funding to Social Welfare and Social Equality three years ago and lowered most taxes for the upper class. These moves were no problem to the Romivulians as the majority of people were very well off, but it backfired after the unemployment percentage had risen two percent in the last year. The poor used to powerless and could do nothing to get out of their economic state, but with the rising popularity of socialism they had a mechanism to express their frustration, and elections were today.

The frontrunner for the Romivul Republic Party was Willian Antao, a fundamentalist conservative Christian who wanted to model Romivulian society after the Bible. He served five six year terms as a senator and ten two year terms as a representative. He is also the current Vice President and was widely seen as the replacement for President Garret Ayhet who was barred from running again due to term limits. He is widely viewed as an aged and senile old man by everyone outside the RPP and polls show that he is an unpopular candidate with only 35% of Romivulians saying that they support his candidacy and 58% saying they don't support his candidacy.

On the other hand, Seth Danks was an extremely popular candidate for the Romivul Socialist Party. His speeches that called for the poor and oppressed of the nation to take to the streets and protest against the government gained millions of viewers on television and thousands of people attended his rallies. Independent polling showed that 68% of Romivulians supported his candidacy while only 27% disapproved. He set a fundraising record by raising 1.5 billion Romivulian Gold Coins for his campaign. His advertisements dominated the radio and TV and he was able to smother Willian Antao whose campaign raised a paltry 132 million Romivulian Gold Coins. He was endorsed by many celebrities and famous actors and it is viewed by some it is impossible for him to lose.

Hundreds of millions of Romivulians sat at their television screens watching Romivulian Headline News, which was the most possible news channel on the nation. A blonde haired reporter sat a table with a gray haired middle aged man and began to speak when the commercial break was over:

''The results for the Presidential and Congressional elections have been received. The Romivul Socialist Party has received three hundred and seventy eight out of five hundred seats in the House of Representatives giving them a large majority over the Romivul Republic Party. In the senate the Romivul Socialist Party has captured sixty four out of one hundred seats giving them a large majority over the Romivul Republic Party as well. The results for the Presidential elections are in as well. Seth Danks of the Romivul Socialist Party has received 69,456,897 votes. Romivul Republic Party candidate William Antao has received 20,639,592 votes making Seth Danks the new President of Romivul. This election is one of the biggest electoral defeats in our nations history with the Romivul Republic Party losing over two hundred seats in the House and thirty five seats in the Senate as well as the presidency. I have political analyst Elbert Cumins with me to discuss the results.''

''I think that this election is a testament to the aging of the Republic Party. I think the youth of this nation are tired of having an ultra-conservative party full of aged men running the country. Quite frankly people are growing tired of their agenda.''

''Do you think the Republic Party will ever be able to bounce back? And what do you think of the new President?''

''I think that the Republic Party can recover if they realize what the people want. They need some fresh,young and charismatic new people to appeal to the modern voter. They have preached the same ideas for decades, and the electorate wants something new. As for Seth Danks if he can capitalize on the energy that propelled him into office he will be a successful President. The only thing he can't do is break his word on reforms for the poor because that is what got him elected in the first place. If he fails to do so he will be just as unpopular as Antao was.''

''Forgive the interruption we have breaking news that newly elected President Danks will be giving a speech in front of the Presidential Office shortly. A large crowd has gathered cheering for the new President and yelling lines of support. Former President William Antao has yet to give any statement on the defeat. We will be switching to our cameramen in front of the Presidential Office until the speech is over. Thank you.''

President Seth Danks walked outside the Presidential Office smiling at the people and proud of the support he has gained. An impromptu podium had been placed in front of the entrance and police had been scrambled to the location to provide security. The podium had a seal on the front that ironically said ''Romivul Republic Party''. He walked up to the podium and pulled the microphone closer to him:

''Hello Romivul. It may be night but the people have just awoken. We are no longer oppressed by the Fascist lower class hating fat cat politicians we call the Romivul Republic Party. They have kept down the common man for the decades they have been in power, and I am glad to help put a stop to this. We will repeal all the archaic laws they have passed with no opposition, and we will provide financial support to all who qualify. This is a new chapter in our history and a new beginning. I think the results of the election show what the people in this nation want, and it's not for some old man to keep us in the Dark Ages. I have called this meeting to invite any world leaders who are listening to visit me in three weeks here at the Presidential Office. All accommodations no matter how absurd shall be given to our honorable guest. We will make trade and agreements with other nations to bring jobs to Romivul and put the common man to work. If we had elected that old windbag Antao you would still be starving in the streets begging for money while the rich flew their multi million private jets above you. That is not the Romivul we want. Together we will create a Romivul that is free and gives a safety net to anybody who falls upon hard times. Thank you for listening. I'm have to return to throwing Antao's old stuff away and moving into my office. Thank you''.

He returned inside the building to wild applause. It was a new day of a new era for a new generation.

by **Estainia** » Sat Jul 02, 2011 9:44 am

[ PT ]

[ Mature ]

The Peers of Romanov

Russo-Spain
1099 AD

The war-hosts of Romanov and Yordanov had met across the fields of battle before; the numbers of both mighty and strong; their knights proud and powerful. Astride great horses of war; they decided the future of the war-torn kingdoms of the subcontinent they were upon.

This proud struggle was three years prior; now there was no great host of Romanov; only Yordanov who reigned supreme over all the nation; nearly. To the last the proud lords of the Family Romanov swore to oppose the Rose Army; they swore to stand against them even there at the end of the world when all the kingdoms were united against them. It had come to that point, every kingdom of Russo-Spain followed Lord Yordanov's banner save one. They stood alone there, at the end of the world but they were not daunted in the endless waves that would come upon them. Their great army though small left their fortresses and formed up under the lord's banner of red and black opposed to the dull golden and green of the Yordanovs.

As pikemen and archers advanced with myrimadons and assorted light infantry, Nikolai Romanov looked out over the vast field to see naught but a sea of enemies; each and all against him and his small host of four thousand swords. He had more, he could marshal to the last professional warriors of great might, but that required time which was not blessed upon his failing legion.

Around him gathered his strongest knights; The Peers they were called, each unparalleled in personal combat and glory; many a victory upon each of their shoulders which were now covered with finely crafted armours of steel, there was no lining of silver among them like in Yordanov's army where life was leeched from the peasantry for the sake of what? Decoration.

In later years, in history; it would be recorded that Romanov was as stubborn as a bull when it came to surrender, that he would drag this war out to no end and no avail if only to delay the inevitable; and along the way he would come to earn his enemies's respect; and fear. His ingenious movements earning the title The Mad Genius. Tactics, Strategy and cleverness winning out over Yordanov's limitless hordes. But today; was not the past, it was the present.

He handed out sealed orders of parchment to each of his knights as he watched the vanguard that was advancing from their vantage point. The troopers clashed with Yordanov's troopers in the centre of a narrow valley that negated the numerical advantage of the other lord's legions, or the infamy of his heavy cavalry. "Flanking maneuvers would be useless." Romanov finally said as the Knights began to leave. "They will simply turn, overwhelm and conquer."

"Then we are lost." One of the Peers said bluntly as the Lord stared at the masses, his Vanguard was nearly destroyed and routed, though they had taken many of the enemy with them, more still remained, and more in the distance and that wasn't accounting for the reserves. "I never thought I would see a force of eight thousand swords...Never." The Lord spoke numbly as his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

"We will buy time for you to marshal." The Peers said, agreeing with one another after the first spoke. The Vanguard was in full retreat now in the distance; Yordanov's Heavy Cavalry giving pursuit but leaving the wounded, not spearing men would already die. "What?" Romanov muttered softly before he turned to his knights who were mounting their fine horses armored as they were.

"We will buy you the time you require, milord. They will be sore pressed to meet us and our own men in the field of battle. We the elite of your army and feared even among them. We will buy you the time you need. We promise you two days, milord; at the expense of these mortal shells."

Silence fell as the Vanguard's shattered remnants gave up hope of fleeing and turned to fight until the embittered end. Behind the Peers a force of some eighty swords; ten vassals each to the knight were preparing for battle as well...

Half a candlemark later; their swords in hand and shields in preparation the heavy cavalry of Romanov's forces slammed into the front line of the Rose Army, scattering professional trooper and conscript alike. The eight men fought like Daemons from The Darkness, their skill unparalleled they were each unstoppable to the enemy. Atop their great horses lance and sword and mace smote enemy after enemy, men falling and dying around them as arrows flew so thick they blotted the sun for nothing; for the thick armor the Knights wore held, and their war-helms with visors closed did protect their head and shoulders.

Candlemark after candlemark passed as the knights fought on, all the while Lord Romanov rode through his lands unopposed; with the Rose Army so concentrated on annihilating the infamous Peers there were naught to invade the Kingdom itself. Lord Romanov rose up a force of fifteen hundred swords; a force unheard of normally, but if anything Yordanov's massive Rose Army was a testimony to the amount of men available to serve.

While the troopers gathered, the Peers fought on, falling with their vassals one by one until the last was smote, his sword so huge it could have been the size of a man, wielded with one hand it clove through man, horse, lance and armor alike like nothing; it's alabaster blade as black as The Darkness and the massive ruby upon it's pommel the size of a large egg. His great horn blew furiously; the rallying cry marshaling the remaining troops to fight on, but it was not to receive reinforcements; as it was too late for that now he knew. No, the cry was to assure that he and his compatriots received a proper pyre.

The last Peer held soon after that, their tired but on fighting vassals had no strength left within them after that, and fell soon after routing the most elite force of mounted knights to ever grace the plains of Russo-Spain. The Wanton slaughter which was dealt was dealt back horrendously. The Rose Army was clashed against on the outskirts of Castle Romanov itself; there, to the last man and boy did the host of the real 'good guys' fight to the absolute end, bringing the Unification Wars to an abrupt and premature halt.

Were it not for the holding of the line by the Peers; Romanov's forces would've been completely obliterated even sooner; bringing about a united nation, certainly; but for the wrong reasons, and this, they helped prevent with their deaths...

by **New Azura** » Mon Jul 04, 2011 5:04 pm

Orphan Annie
[MT] | [Mature]

This recording was completed at 2345 Hours; Saturday, 2nd July, 2011. Army Doctor Mitchell M. Turner, Captain presiding over this tape. For the betterment of the Adjudication and Repudiation Committee as authorized by His Eminence the Holy Ixion of the Axidonal Church, and by His Majesty the Great and Noble Achæon of the Azuran Empire. With full honors, regards, and the privileges vested in me herein, so begins this constructive analysis of the progress made by the military analysts at Imperial Army Base Fort Vania regarding the Orphan Annie Project.

As an objective reporter, I wish to clarify that the following records my experiences at the camp, inasmuch as I was able to perform for the benefit of my comrades stationed at Vania. On a personal note, I wish to implore the review panel that partakes of this audio file to keep an open mind about the events that are recounted within. I should make mention that while these methods shall sound... exotic from the comfort of your offices, know going in that I shall fully vouch for the unorthodox methodology implored by the Orphan Annie team, and will gladly make any and all arrangements necessary for you to acquire the same hands on experience that I was able to partake of—for it is of paramount importance to see as well as hear.

With this caveat in mind, I present to you a full recollection of the events as they transpired, with requisite skimming where necessary to alleviate the burden of time on the adjudication committee. Tape begins after this pause for clarity and posterity...

I arrived at the front gates of Fort Vania at 1100 Hours on 30th June. I was escorted through the control center as part of a larger convoy representing the vested interest that all service branches of the Imperial Armed Forces have in the success and continued progress of Orphan Annie. After a brief luncheon that saw the facility commander take the talking heads on a visual tour of the facilities used for the 'public' face of the project, I was quietly escorted as per your instructions by the Team Leader, Captain Montgomery Charles Scott.

As a personal aside, I'd like to take time to commend Captain Scott for his magnificent work in organizing Orphan Annie. I found his instructions, his guidance, and his set-up to be both flawless, professionally done, and magnificently efficient. High marks should be awarded to Captain Scott for his dedication to the vitality and continued success of Orphan Annie.

Once we were quietly apart from the rest of the group, I was lead down through a secured entrance way hidden behind a false wall in the Captain's secretarial area. Once through the first wall, a series of stringent security checks were implemented to insure the security of the facility below. As a precaution, we were required to check in with a security monitoring station and provide written acceptance of our refusal to hold the Imperial Army liable for any psychological damage done by the visit.

As we made our way through the security checkpoints en route to the actual Vania Military Installation housed below the public one, Captain Scott began to relay a bit of information regarding the technical layout of the facility, which I shall relay to you now. The Vania Military Installation proper has five levels, each built underground to help contain the experiments working within. The entire first level is comprised of five security checkpoints, ensuring containment policies are kept at all times. There is also a workroom, chemical showers, and a conference room for scientists to use at their leisure. The first floor, henceforth referred to as BL1, was the main administrative wing of the facility. Because of its lack of importance to the results of Orphan Annie, we shall absolve further mention of it at this time.

Using a secure elevator, we were taken under heavy guard into the second sub-level of the complex, BL2. Colloquially known as the "Psyche Ward", this level of the facility deals with psychological experiments used to ascertain the emotional limits of a human being. While multiple experiments are carried out on a daily basis, we were able to take part in three experiments while we were there.

The first experiment involved the limits of human endurance when hunger was an issue. To simulate the conditions necessary, three prisoners were given no food for two weeks, and only the bare minimum amount of water necessary to sustain life. On the day that we arrived, the experiment began in earnestness when the cadaver of a man was laid into the room, along with eating utensils. Two of the men slowly moved towards the cadaver, while the third man sat in the corner of the room, refusing to indulge in the meal provided him.

While tentative at first, the other two men eventually began to carve away at the cadaver, which had been freshly slaughtered for the occasion. Particular emphasis was placed on capturing the organs that were consumed first. In their state of ravenous hunger, the two men became more and more violent in their dissection. While chunks of meat were carved delicately with knives at first, the prisoners' hands became the primary mode of ripping meat from the carcass of the woman. The breast tissue was of particular delight to their palates, apparently. Prisoner #1 was particularly engrossed with the consumption of the small intestine. Because the cadaver had not emptied her bowels before being executed, the lower intestine contained copious amounts of fecal matter. Yet strangely, the presence of this material did nothing to quell the hunger of the famished individual. His compatriot in the meal stayed higher on the body, gorging himself on the inner lining of the left lung for a time.

When the data was recorded, two armed guards entered the room and exterminated both newly-minted cannibals. The third man, however, was taken by force from the room, gagged, and brought into a small sitting area adjacent to the previous slaughter room. I observed the frail individual as he was bound to a chair with leather holding straps. A man in a butcher's smock and a visor helmet came into the room, holding carving utensils that were still stained with blood from a previous encounter with a prisoner. Even as I watched in fascination and awe, the butcher took advantage of the restrained individual. Using his larger knife, the soldier brought the instrument down with a thwack into the outstretched arm of the starving man. The gag muffled much of the scream, though a wheezing, agonizing... guttural moan emanated from the prisoner. Blood seeped through the wound, and I would estimate that at the time, his left arm had been halfway severed below the elbow.

Once the first cut had been made, the butcher took advantage of his smaller carving knives, delicately slicing off a thick chunk of forearm about two inches long and a quarter-inch deep. It was a fairly sizable portion of meat, to be sure. Once the meat and gristle had been stripped from the arm, the butcher took the meat out of the room, allowing the prisoner to slip in and out of shock. A second soldier had entered while the first was cutting the arm, and had set up a cistern below to catch the draining blood. What I didn't know at the time was that everything was being done to prepare for the second experiment I would be privy to in the Psyche Ward.

After five or so minutes, three soldiers re-entered the room, carrying plates containing small portions of meat cooked haphazardly. As they approached, I could tell by the accentuation of the cuts that they were going to serve the man his own flesh. The three plates were placed on a small table set out in front of the man. As we began to observe the experiment unfold, it was apparent that the prisoner was somewhat inclined to presume that the flesh laid out before him was from his own arm. Granted, the prisoner's weakened physical state from starvation, blood loss, and blunt force trauma probably limited his emotional and mental capacity. However, the prisoner at first steadfastly refused to take the meat offered him. The second phase of the experiment, however, would turn the tables. I volunteered to step into the room, sitting across from the young man as he fazed in and out. Taking a piece of the meat, I put the food into my mouth, chewing with great fervor. As the man watched me eat, the sensation of hunger became too much, and he began to eat the second piece laid out before him.

At one point, a soldier approached with a swab stick, grabbing the prisoner by the hair and yanking his head back. I watched in curiosity as the soldier shoved the stick down into the man's gullet, making him wretch and gag. As the prisoner began to throw up, I noticed that the soldier had thrown the last piece of meat into the vomit. Without hesitation, the man dove in to retrieve the last piece of meat, symbolizing the uttermost limits a human being would endure to receive sustenance. I was escorted out of the room before a gunshot signified the end of the prisoner's meal.

After leaving the feeding area, I was enjoined to view one final demonstration in the Psyche Ward. A male prisoner was bound in chains to a wall, and was given only a short razor blade to hold onto. Through a looking glass mirror, I witnessed a woman and three young girls brought into a separate room. Judging by the emotional response of the prisoner, I took the women to be related to the man—perhaps his wife and daughters. A quartet of soldiers began to accost the women, in full view of the prisoner. The older woman had her clothes stripped from her body, and she was beaten with bamboo rods and leather whips before being brutally raped by multiple men. After each man had his fill, the next man in line would take his turn savagely brutalizing her fragile body. I suspect this carried on for thirty minutes, as six individuals took their turns until the blood from her sexual organs became too great to ignore. As the grown woman’s body was laid to waste in front of her apparent husband, the three young girls, none of whom was younger than ten or older than fifteen, were treated in much the same manner as the grown woman had been. However, instead of sexually violating them, the captors cut off their breast tissue, their noses and their ears with crude combat knives, before ripping open their throats in front of the captive prisoner.

It was at this point that Mr. Scott informed me of the nature of the experiment. As I had surmised, the prisoner held captive in bondage was the husband and father of the four women that were tortured in his sight. The test was designed, as were all Orphan Annie experiments, to gauge the absolute limits of the human body and condition. In this experiment, the researchers wished to gauge how much emotional torment a prisoner could handle before he killed himself to alleviate the burden. To the prisoner‘s credit, he did not once move to slit his wrists at the sight of his fallen family. To reward him, a guard put a bullet into his chest, ending his suffering.

Because of time constraints, I was not able to see any other experiments done in BL2, though we did briefly tour the physical prison that held the test subjects while they were given a brief respite from their service to the Empire. The facilities were sufficient for the duration of the prisoners’ stay in the cells, which to wit was “not long” according to Mr. Scott. Through the prison bloc, however, we boarded another secure elevator through a secondary checkpoint. This elevator brought us to BL3, colloquially known as the “Brothel” at Vania.

Captain Scott introduced me to Lieutenant Commander Jason Alamance, a reserve officer of the Imperial Air Force who was on loan from that institution to head up the original concept of Orphan Annie—the forced impregnation program. BL3 only contains female prisoners; those selected are either fertile, beautiful, or preferably both. And all individuals must be healthy, lest they be shipped to one of the two remaining levels below. BL3 was divided into two units: an impregnation center and a medical clinic. In the first center, healthy women were stripped naked and positioned on crude mattresses, where scientists (and soldiers, as I came to find out) would attempt to impregnate them through rape. Once a woman became pregnant, she was immediately moved to the medical clinic, where she would be cared for in order to bring forth a healthy child. When in labor, nurses would perform an episiotomy without sedation in order to facilitate a more rapid birth. The women that were not permanently scarred by this experience would be given two months to recuperate, before they would be strapped back to the bed and raped night and day, sometimes for hours on end until they conceived once more.

The babies delivered had varying fates. Most of the male specimens were shipped off to special camps, where they would be nurtured and grown into capable fighting machines, bred from the start for war. Some of the healthiest girls would also be raised at special camps, only to be returned when they were of child-bearing age to Vania to resume the practices of their mothers. The remainder of the boys and girls born were either taken to BL4 (where they would be used for target practice) or BL5 (where they would be used for medical experimentation).

As I toured the facilities, I was given a chance to see up close the nature of the sublevel. Some of the women used in the impregnation center had given birth upwards of ten, eleven, even fifteen times. Some, however, had been sterilized after having given birth to several children, and were retained only as comfort women to the workers of the secret facilities. I was given the opportunity to perform for my country with one of the luckier specimens—those who could still give birth. Those that had been sterilized were often beaten to the point of death, or worse, killed outright. As I went in unto her, I noticed an unpleasant aroma in the room. Her skin, though doused with perfume, had a faint smell of urine and vomit. I endured the experience, however, and did what was asked of me. It was an interesting, if unconventional experience.

Though I savored the opportunity of seeing the newer subjects in the Brothel, our time forced us down further to BL4, also known as the “Gallery”. By the time we had reached this sublevel, I was growing quite tired from the various activities I’d partaken in, and so we quite breezily sped through this level. BL4 is devoted to weapons testing entirely. Various prototypes of service rifles, submachine guns, pistols, and especially grenades were tested at varying ranges. Artillery shells were detonated in special enclosures to test their destructive power. And various bayonets and knives were tested to demonstrate their effectiveness to military researchers, who would feed the invaluable information back to their superiors.

As we approached the end of BL4, I was privy to one special demonstration of a prototype flamethrower that was being used on a group of prisoners dressed in ragged military uniforms. As I watched with great interest, the flamethrower melted away the skin from their arms and torsos, almost liquefying it in the intense heat. As their skin melted away to reveal sinewy bone and muscle, I became fascinated by the complexity of the drills. As the first batch of prisoners went down, more prisoners were herded in through a false wall to the rear of the testing room. This process repeated for almost twenty minutes, as the durability and strength of the weapon was tested in almost every manner possible.

As we came to the secure lift that would take us to the final level of the underground facility, I was enjoined to place myself in a special biohazard environmental suit in preparation of BL5. As we suited up in the elevator, I was told by Captain Scott that BL5—“The Infirmary” as it was known at Vania—was the single largest biological testing ground in the Azuran Empire. Intrigued by the possibilities, I must profess that I found the facilities at BL5 to be the most important, yet the most aesthetically boring halls of the entire compound. Simple rooms were hermetically sealed by special plastics and metal sheets, as scientists and physicians intentionally infected the unfortunate souls here with all manner of diseases: Azuran Hemorrhagic Fever, Cholera, Ebola, Lassa, Malaria, Praxa, Smallpox, Tuberculosis, Typhoid, and various other agents. Chemical agents like chlorine and mustard gas was used on prisoners in special chambers, while experimental surgeries such as vivisection, appendectomies, lobotomies, and other procedures were performed—most in unsanitary conditions or without sedation to monitor the physical effects on the human body in extreme conditions such as those presented here.

As a final note, I wish to make special mention of the most interesting room in the entire facility, at least for my money. The previously aforementioned babies that were brought down to this level were given a worse fate than the children who were used on BL4 as human clays for skeet shooting with sniper rifles. The children brought to BL5 were intentionally used as guinea pigs, providing detail on the extreme conditions which a human infant could withstand in order to provide incredible working data for pediatricians all over the Empire.

As we took the emergency lift back up to the surface, I thanked Captain Scott for the thorough examination of Orphan Annie. Vania has produced some indispensable analysis for our War Department, and it is the opinion of this reviewer that continued funding of the operation be processed at your earliest possible convenience. As it were, I shall request a permanent transfer to Vania in short order to continue the revolutionary work begun there. As this information survives as sensitive material, and should not be disclosed to the public, I have encrypted this data disk with a fail-safe key—the answer to which is on your personage tonight. Thus concludes my report on Project Orphan Annie.

Doctor Mitchell M. Turner, Captain,
The Imperial Army of the Azuran Empire

by **-Deus-** » Mon Jul 04, 2011 6:07 pm

[ PMT/FT ]

The Day and The Mouse

#One

Six-o’clock. I stood up straight, my hands buried deep into my pockets, the sound of fireworks, screaming people and music outside of the building I was in. I looked down to the ground, inspecting at the crumpled up body beneath me.

Man. Six feet, ten inches. Bald. Thirty five years old. No kids. No wife or girlfriend. Business man. Broken neck. Kill time…Ten minutes, five seconds.

That was the first inspection. I had to measure him in my head, and his age was a bit harder to find out, but I knew it from looking closer at his head, the wrinkles and the stress marks, even his eyes gave it away. Thirty five. He had no kids or girlfriend, I could tell this much by the amount of money he had and where he was at when I found him. It had taken me nine minutes to find him, one minute to get into position and five seconds for me to twist his neck and kill him; I had kept track.

He was a Business man, quite the character in one company or another. I could tell by the shredded business card protruding from his pocket ever so slightly with his picture on it. I knelt down next him; my hands still in my pockets, my eyes scanning over him just like how I had been taught. There was nothing there, so I simply stood up again, nodded and turned to my left, looking out of the window in which I had come through, the planks that had boarded it up smashed across the floor. This building was abandoned; some sort of warehouse, except for now it was just a hangout for local kids and junkies.

The clean kill I had just participated in had lightened my mood and I cracked a smile even though no one was around but me and the corpse. I looked out of the window; peering through it and watching the people below celebrate another nation-wide party or another for some reason. It wasn’t important to me. I covered my mouth as I coughed; the sound of my wheezing signalling it was time to go. I turned around, taking another good look at him, soaking in all the details I could.

I patted my dark brown cargo pants off, taking a look at my worn out sneakers and finally throwing any lint out of the pockets of my white and black hoodie, stashing my hands back into their pockets before I simply walked out of the door and down the steps of the warehouse and then finally out of the warehouses door and out to the street. I closed my eyes tight, looking around, taking in the smells and sounds, all of it.

Renewing

I was never a religious type of person, but in this day and age, can you be too careful? I took a heavy breath, walking to my right and slipping into a car that I had parked. Old thing, hardly even worth tuning up or fixing. It got me from point A to point B and that’s all I needed. I coughed again; looking around for the car was near empty on the inside. Very clean and orderly.

Not my car

I sighed as I realized what this was. But I couldn’t fight it. I looked into the passenger seat; smiling as I was reassured that Nigel was still there. The little thing looked up at me with his tiny, all black eyes. He may have been only a mouse, but I loved him like any other human…More, than any other human. I snatched him up and gave him a soft kiss, placing him on my shoulder next as I started the car and drove off. Nigel is a small one, the runt of his “family”. He’s small and pale white, not albino, just white. He’s the only one I ever talk to. He keeps me form going insane, I guess and I keep him off the streets or, well, dead in someone’s trash bin.

I sharply turned the car left, and then right, ignoring every street light because I could care less about them at this very moment. It was straight trip for the rest of the drive, only eight minutes, three seconds passing before I was stopping the car, snatching up Nigel and walking up the steps of my apartment. It was a cosy little place, clean and orderly, with a nice greeter at the door. My room was on the fifth floor, overlooking the entire city. Nice place.

Not my apartment

Again, I took in a deep breath and sighed, trotting out of the elevator to find what else they had changed already. I walked straight for approximately two minutes, one second before turning left and then facing right, the large door to my room right in front of me now. It was a nice, brown door, instead of the formally red and white one that I had custom chopped painted. The sixteen sets of mandatory locks were still in place, reassuring me just a bit as I and Nigel strolled into our room. I flicked off my sneakers into the closet next to the entrance as soon as I had entered and shut the door behind me. I took in a breath and began to look around.

It was clean and orderly, following a green, purple and white colour scheme. My bed was a nice, plush, queen size. My TV was flat screen and HD. My bathroom was without a stain or scent besides a faint lemon mist that was spread out along the entire room. The rug was soft, grabbing on to my feet perfectly and warming them. My kitchen was tidy, with my oak table polished and my refrigerator stocked up with my favourite foods. The view as nice, with the exact outlook on the city as I expected. In all, it was nice, orderly, clean and worst of all…

Not my room

This time it got to me. I placed Nigel down on the kitchen table, giving the little guy a pinch of seeds and then placed myself right on my bed. I snarled for a moment, trying to calm myself, but it just wasn’t working this time. They’d send someone to explain it all soon enough. I folded my arms, took off my socks and balled them up, looked at the television and then to the wall. I began to count.

1…2…3…4…

“Mr.Dzień, is something wrong?” Ah her. They always send her. I turned around, in the direction of the window. In front of the window, was an older woman – probably in her forties, with thick, plastic, square glasses and a slightly wrinkled face. She had shrivelled lips, yet still covered them in dark red lipstick. Her eyes were a solidly coloured green, and her hair was jet black. She held a notepad in her hands and a pen.

Her name was Mable.

I gave her a fake, half-hearted smile. “Hello Mable.” I said in my sarcastically cheerful voice, my eyes drooping low, and my expression quite neutral, even maybe upset. “Now, Mable. There seems to be a problem.”

“What seems to be wrong, Mr.Dzień? The contract was a ninety-five point three percent success.”

I looked at her, slanting my head to the side and opening my mouth, the words ‘really Mable, really?’ on my mind. I scoffed and shook my head. “Firstly, I don’t enjoy finishing a contract and then finding my car replaced. I don’t like going home to a totally new apartment and a totally new room. Okay? This is the fifth time you’ve done this, THE FIFTH TIME! I don’t want this anymore!”

She looked at me, the words I just said lingering in the air for a moment like the scent of lemon. She coughed, and then wrote something down quickly, turning her head up to me soon after. “I am sorry, Mr. Dzień, but this is simply how things are. You fulfil our contracts for us, and in return we give you security, shelter, food and anything else you desire. Putting you through a transfer is a part of that security. Without it, you’d be killed in a matter of moments. You’ll be sent a packet in a moment, as well as a folder. The next contract will commence within a few months. Any other questions?”

I sighed, shook my head and looked down, defeated. It only hit me as I looked up. “Wait! Mable…’packet’? Oh please don’t tell me, Mable, really? Really?”

She looked at me with a cold expression that dug deep into my being and for once put fear into me. “Welcome to Nai’Than, Mr. Dzień. Enjoy your stay.”

She disappeared as I blinked, the words still in the air, still lingering in my head, overtaking me with rage as I stood up and punched at my wall and anything else within range of me. “God dammit! God dammit! What is wrong with them? Aargh! They always do this. Always! I can’t stand this bull shit anymore!”

I just kicked and screamed like a child, angry that they’d put me through another transfer just as I had gotten settled. Looking at it, they were right to put me through another transfer, I mean things were heating up, nearly ending for them. They had to finish the project soon enough or else. I just didn’t know why they had to be so impersonal about it. They’re like robots, always watching me, always changing something, always influencing something. I hate it. I hate them.

Ten minutes, seven seconds went by until I was finally laid across my bed, calmed and controlled once again. My face was red, my breaths heavy and sporadic. I was angry, but I was just directing it to my thoughts, the only thing they couldn’t monitor. I stood up to my feet, staring over at the table, at Nigel still working on his mound of seeds. The entire exchange had happened only in a few minutes time, roughly four. I got a knock at my door, and so I strolled over, fling it open to – as usual – nothing but a packet and folder.

The packet read “Welcome to Nai’Than!”, so I threw it on my bed and ignored it for the moment. The folder was filled with sets of money, roughly around fifteen thousand dollars. I took around a thousand and stuffed it in my pocket, stashing the rest under my pillow. I rubbed my head, the dandruff falling from my dark black hair. I hadn’t had time to wash, but I didn’t much feel like it anyway. I lumbered around for a moment, falling on to my bed and scooping up the remote, turning the television on with a simple click of the remote and subsequent channel switches upwards. I landed on a reality show, another one of those “live in this house and win money” type deals. I always loved them for their pure comedic attributes, but hated them for their utter stupidity.

Only a few moments passed before I shut off the television, scooped up Nigel and laid across my bed, holding the little mouse close to my face. I sighed and looked at him, and then at the ceiling. “Nigel, we can’t keep doing this. It’s crazy and I’m tired of it. I’m nearly in my thirties now, I…I can’t be doing this further. I guess I’m just tired. What do you think?”

I smiled and looked at him, his face blank as I pretended to speak for him, my voice becoming loud and baritone. “Well, I think we should quit and stop the project.”

I smiled widely now and sat up straight, holding Nigel in the palm of my hands and looking down at him. “You always know what to say Nigel…”

by **Storm Gard** » Sat Jul 09, 2011 8:25 am

Lost

[ PMT ]

Kruger meets Anna in a bar three weeks after finding out his Captain has been fucking one of the grunts from Unit Four for almost a year.

She is sweet, awkward, and not a natural blonde, and five minutes after she starts chattering at him about her bum marriage and no-good parents, he knows she's a plant.

He takes her back to his second safe house – just for aesthetics – and fucks her anyway. The entire time she is riding him, her head back and voice way more vocal than it probably should be, he watches her face. Pointedly doesn't remember the last time he had sex or the way he watched that woman too. Just watches Anna rise and fall; her not perfect breasts flushed and peaked just above his mouth.

She keens when she comes, and he holds her as she comes down. His hands look strange against her pale skin, and it's only later as he's listening to her snore into his ear that he remembers what was wrong.

"The creep is set up for the night, Captain. Looks like he's in for the long haul."

"Alright, Kruger. Stay put and keep your eye on him. The faster we get this done, the sooner we get back to our real cases"

"I hate doing favors for the Colonel’s friends."

"Me too, but it keeps us in spare parts and money."

"Amen to that."

It takes Anna nearly four months before she feels safe enough to try her first dive. Frankly, he'd been getting a little bored waiting for it. As such, he'd gone to some rather amusing lengths on the detail of the barrier filter she ended up in.

He'd made sure to emphasize the graves of his old unit mates and his feelings of guilt stemming from his actions in the Anvil Insurrection It had been sappy and mean, but she was screwing him for information, literally, and he figured she deserved what she got.

The next day, he'd spent his off day showing her around the New Sanctus Zoo. They'd laughed at the bears and penguins before winding into one of the smaller trendy districts for dinner and a movie.

He'd watched the whole thing holding her hand, pretending to lose himself in the moment and the woman. Mostly, he was wondering how long he could get away with fucking over whatever enemy had sent this little mole into his world.

Later, after slow marathon sex, she'd asked if he minded her bringing over a few things. She was there more nights than not, she reasoned, and someone needed to water his plants during his long personal security business trips. It might as well be her.

He'd wanted to laugh. Instead, he'd chattered something freaked out and male and eventually said yes.

He figured if he's going to be nothing but a means to an end, he might as well be an active participant. This is a lie, but it gets him through the night.

He dreamed of a plane to one of the outer colonies and of purple eyes who never quite met his own.

"Are you okay, Kruger?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question."

"I'm fine. Why?"

"I don't know. You seem... different these days. Quieter."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Malich said you were dating someone."

"Yep."

"Good."

"Yep. Twelve o'clock, I think it's Mr Fuyutsuki."

"Oh, him. Got it."

Almost eight months to the day he met Anna; she pulls a gun on him and gets her brains blown across the back wall of his second-best safe house. Apparently, her bosses were getting desperate. Or something.

He doesn't actually care too much.

After the cleanup crew had done their thing – a stern warning from the Colonel to report anything like this in the future trailing silent once he'd handed over all the backdoor intel he'd gathered in his last hack – Malich had taken him out for a drink to commiserate.

Kruger had gone along, mostly because he figured the images in Malich's mind were of his wife and children, and while he was a cranky old man, Kruger wasn't completely heartless. He'd even sat through Malich's awkward attempts at bonding, camaraderie, and sympathy.

In the end, Kruger gets Paz to drive the man home so he can finally drink something in peace.

Unsurprisingly, the Captain joins him soon after the younger men stumble out.

She waves to the bartender for something dark and probably bitter when she settles next to him.

They don't say anything. Kruger ignores the volumes of things that are passed between them, beginning and ending with the echo of a bullet across a tarmac and a scream she had no reason to ever hear.

He misses the past. He misses the time before everything became twisted and wrong.

In the end, she stands to leave and he lights a cigarette. He listens to her walk away and watches the end of his smoke glow red. She pauses by the door, the heel of her boot clicking against the door frame.

"Good night," she says, and keeps going.

Across from him, the mirror behind the bar is hazy from who knows how many years of not being cleaned. Kruger wonders if the biggest lie of this whole charade is him not returning the goodbye.

by **Zypra** » Sat Jul 09, 2011 11:10 am

Endless Summer (MT)

The wind pierced us like a hot knife through butter, it's nascent breeze flowing through my hair as I gripped her hand tightly. Her curly, dark hair almost covered her face entirely. Her speech was impaired by the awe that flowed through us like a stream. It was really happening. It was something we have dreamed of. None of us really cared about the sun that roasted our skin as we became more tanned. My right hand traced the ligneous texture of the log we sat on, following each rough line in euphoria. After a long-awaited month, I had nearly given up hope in her, at the point where I could no longer care but succumb to tears in silence whenever I was alone. She had just refreshed my conscience, waking me up from a deep slumber that paralyzed me from ever speaking to her again.

Whatever was on her mind that day, I would believe it was nothing more than a scramble of thoughts and misery. We both knew that I was either going to leave her, or stay. She made up my mind for me. The first kiss, the touch of the lips, the faint sound of waves crashing around us, all was lost when she made her move. I felt a deep sense of regret; remorse shattered me like a rock through a fragile window pane. I should have not broken her heart in such a way that left her in tears. The deepest pain, the most burning sensation. It all lasted for a few seconds before she retracted herself and held her own body against me. I couldn't tell the difference between remorse and the deep sense of love. I was.. trapped, with only one painful way out. I fatefully decided that day, to ignore my own heart and listen to my deepest thoughts. I believed it was the right thing to do for her.

A temperamental woman, she was often the person to coax me into something by unknown means. To this day, I couldn't understand how she had prevented me from having the first taste of true life. I had no capacity to make any decision. I was weak, tired and lost in this world. She led me into things that I believed was right. She led me to the truth. From that day onward, I battled the forces of temptation in order to retain our love, so we could never break apart. Then, it hit me. I battled for the wrong side. I didn't feel a speck of love for her, nor did I feel selfish at all. Pity love, or so what it was called. My early decision also impacted the future of my bestfriend's relationship. Now, both of them are happy. I am ascertain that my own best friend may feel more insecure than before, but a more darker side played a role in his future life. I was to blame.

The entrance was littered with people of different origin and background. Cars, vans, trucks, all were bustling away as they slowly attempted to muffle my ears from hearing one of the most meaningful conversations in my life. She was there too, with her bestfriend, standing right in front of me. It's been nearly a month since that fateful afternoon at the beach, and compared to the quiet scenery that engulfed us, nothing could ever make me forget the busy nightlife that I had experienced that day.

"Tell me the first girl you ever loved." she said, smiling away. She hid her tears in front of many people that stood close to us, including her very own best friend, who seemed to be attentively texting away. Her gaze was immaculate, innocent.

"Well.. I won't tell you her name, but I loved her for three years." I heartedly replied, with great burden on my chest.

"She must be lucky, then." She replied. I sensed that she hid some jealousy in her voice, but was happy to say so.

"Well, not as lucky as you." I replied.

"Why?"

"Because.. I loved her for three years. She didn't even love me back. Now, I've got someone that loves me back. I'm lucky. You're lucky."

"Seriously?" she asked, approaching closer.

"I swear. You're the person I'll never forget."

And I'll never forget her. All of that feeling flushed as they left for her ride back home. I hid, watching both of them closely as they entered the car, making sure she was alright. And she was. I stood at the same spot for more than five minutes, mulling the day over before I had to leave. It was painful to finish a day where I couldn't kiss her for one more time. I said to myself, "Perhaps maybe another time." I really hoped I did.

Tears flowed down my face like two rivers that had been separated by a mountain. It felt deep, incredibly deep as I kept thinking it over and over again. I have to admit, it aggravates me at the fact that I had done something wrong. I could feel my tears forming more rivers under my eyes. 'You & I' died a long time ago, I said to myself, constantly reminding my heart that I broke us up for a valid reason. I was ashamed as I relapsed into more tears, mulling it over and over again before I grew sick and tired of the same stuff that I was going through. The most terrible headache surrounded me, a burning heartache, and cold tears that shook my body.

She was never going to tell me what was wrong with her, ever. Anger, frustration and the feeling of selfishness would describe the factors that led me to abandon her. It has been weeks since we last met and I began to feel astray. I was lost in an ocean of thoughts, a deep sense of longing for just a tiny moment of love to come back into my cold, black heart, but to no avail. There was no one there for me, not even my best friend, who felt the same way, but much more longer than I was going through. Abandonment, and a deeper feeling of suicide ran through me. I was in a dark, musty room, naked, with nothing but my own heart, pounding violently in my hands. That was the feeling I could only describe through these words.

But then, something hit me. Something that changed my life forever. I didn't need someone to love me, for I needed to love myself. I no longer needed to heed advice from anybody that conflicted with my own judgement, for I had my own ways. I did not need to depend on anyone but my own self. It was either going to be failure, or success, but it needed time and effort. I slowly made my way out of the car, hesitant to leave at first, before standing tall and confident, hiding away my own deep feelings with a smile on my face. I was going to start anew, fresh, and devoid of anyone to control my personal life. I was going to take care of myself from now on, and I sure did not want anymore failures in my life. I entered the house reluctant, but it was safe to say that I couldn't help but notice how things were different now that I've viewed them in an entirely different, open mind.

I was no longer lost, or so what I had thought I was.

by **New Balkaney** » Sat Jul 09, 2011 10:17 pm

[ FT ]

Ashen

Thunder. Ashes. Gray motes, singed edges. A lifeless expanse stretched out before me, unending hell. The ground is cracked, jagged. Melted and reformed a thousand times over the last few weeks, a month or so. Everything that was is slag, embedded in broken crumbling peaks. High above, beyond the partially burnt away atmosphere lurk great demons, vomiting fire and spitting genocide into the eye of the world. Damnation from on high, infection purged, corruption seared. Instant flagellation of a nation, a race. A species blinked out of existence with the whisper of command, the deluge of roiling, raging star-fire.

There’s so little air and so much poison that we need oxygen tanks and heavy radiation-shielded armor to survive on the surface. Beneath the ground, hundreds of feet, maybe thousands, vast vaults. Caverns and halls cramped and overpopulated with millions. People like rats, herded by armed shepherds through the mazes of cages. I might be walking over someone’s head, standing on their shoulders, all of them upon their knees. Pledging blind and unending fealty, fanatical loyalty to our masters, to a government and cause I make no pretensions of understanding. So many, so wretched in their ragged masses. But they’re worth something because they supported our cause.

I’m up here because I’m worth more to someone in some clerical office than those toiling below. I’m up here because I’m worth more because in my hands I have a rifle and in my heart I have nothing. The lenses of this mask are tinted, but I can still see too much. Trenches filled with bodies, barbed wire clutching shredded corpses, geysers of dirt kicked up as red-hot shrapnel mixes with blood in the air. I want to sleep, but there’s too much killing left to do. It’ll be a long while before this piece of hell is pacified.

The Native Story Index [Open; All Techs]

An Introduction to the Kingdom of Ends

Who is online