Help Us Polarize [Closed]

[Jedoria]

"All our work, our whole life is a matter of semantics, because words are the tools with which we work, the material out of which laws are made, out of which the Constitution was written. Everything depends on our understanding of them."
-Felix Frankfurter

Sykios Provincial Court,
Jedoria

"All rise."

Over a hundred individuals rose from their seats, most from the audience behind the desks of the plaintiff and defendant. The entire room fell silent as a single person wearing dark grey robes walked in from a door on the left half of the back wall of the courtroom.

"The Court of the Sykios Provincial Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Moldovanu presiding."

Claudia Moldovanu was in her 53rd year on this earth, a short and stout women with tinges of grey in her midnight black hair showing. The round faced women seemed to have a minor scowl on her face, but otherwise portrayed no emotion as she walked up the steps to the judge's bench. The rest of the room remained eerily quiet, the jury, defense, prosecution, all keeping their eyes on the middle aged women as she sat down in her seat, adjusting her robes slightly to accommodate the change in posture. Raising her head to examine the courtroom in front of her, she spoke in a commanding and firm voice. "Everyone but the jury may be seated."

The spectators, prosecution and the defense took their seats in silence safe for the rustling of fabric and the occasional scoot of chair legs. The twelve members of the jury remained standing, waiting for their next part in the courtroom procedure. Turning her head slightly down and to her right, Moldavanu addressed the bailiff. "Mr. Dobrogeanu, please swear in the jury." The bailiff nodded to the affirmative and made his way over to the jury box, standing in front of the twelve determiners of law and spoke to them all as a group in a gravely voice. "Please raise your right hand." Twelve open palms rose. "Do you solemnly swear that you will truthfully listen to this case, and upon the completion of it render a true verdict and fair sentence to this defendant?"

More or less in unison, the members of the jury, who varied in age, sex, height, and clothing, unified solely for the purpose of this legal procedure, confirmed. "I do."

Nodding, Dobrogeanu said "You may be seated."

While the jury took their seats, the bailiff returned to his post, after which the judge inquired to him "Mr. Dobrogeanu, what is today's case."

Addressing his superior, the bailiff replied respectfully "Your Honor, today's case is Citizens for the Preservation of Civil Liberties against the Internal Security Sykios Command, for alleged violations of the constitutional rights of assembly for multiple citizens."

Moldavanu nodded. Turning her gaze towards the prosecution, she asked "Is the prosecution ready?" The attorneys and representatives of the CPCL rose as one and nodded. Yes, your honor." The lead attorney said, after which all sat back down in their seats.

Sweeping her eyes to her right, she asked "Is the defense ready?" The same event was repeated by the other side of the case. "Yes, your honor."

"Then by the power invested in my, and this court, this case is now in session." She picked up the gavel and banged it once on the small block of wood that was the hammer's normal target. The noise reverberated throughout the entire room, and after placing the gavel back in it's resting spot, Moldavanu spoke again. "You may give your opening statements."

The prosecution, lead by Dorin Pușcariu, exchanged glances and nods, before Pușcariu rose from his seat and walked out a bit so he stood roughly center between the judge's bench, and the defense and prosecution. "Your Honor," He said, nodding towards Moldavanu, then turning to the jury, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am here quite simply to defend the constitutional rights that we as citizens of our Confederation hold dear. A great many events have transpired in recent weeks, not just abroad but also within our homeland. Recent political and military developments in particular took many of us by surprise. We were not informed by the government we elected into office of this development, and were naturally surprised by the rather sudden reversal of what has been our countries southern defense arrangement for nearly forty years now. In some cases this caused great concern among our people, who feared for the well-being and safety of not only their families, but their country."

"In keeping with the rights bestowed upon us as citizens of the Confederation, a great many people saw fit to organize and protest what they saw as an unjust and unwarranted action undertaken by our government, without any warning or notice. I must stress I am not here to argue whether or not the withdrawal of our nation's military forces from our southern border is a sound policy decision. I am here before you because following the organization and lawful assembly of many concerned citizens, personnel under the order and control of the Department of Internal Security, our nation's law enforcement, operating under the Ministry of Internal Affairs, on numerous occasions not just here in Sykios, but across Jedoria, reacted to these lawful protests with violence and aggression. Irrefutable video and photographic evidence shows that members of Internal Security, specifically in this case officers from the Sykios Metropolitan District Command, inflicted bodily harm and acted aggressively against protestors, including usage of batons, tear gas grenade, pepper spray, intimidation, and arresting hundreds under charges of 'disturbing the peace'. Perhaps most shockingly were statements made by Internal Security leadership which labeled the protests as 'unlicensed and unauthorized'. Statements that indicated that, despite having the constitutional right to, citizens of this country are not allowed to gather and assemble to express their political views and opinions."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you Honor, by the time this trial is concluded I am confident you will be fully assured of the veracity of my statements, and will handle this clear case of complete disregard for the constitutional rights as it rightfully should be dealt with. This concludes the prosecutions opening statement." Finished, Pușcariu returned to his seat, adjusting his tie. Moldavanu watched the lawyer sit down before nodding towards the defense. Luminitia Vianu, the legal attorney for the Department of Internal Security Sykios Province Command, rose from her seat. Taking the same spot as Pușcariu had occupied, she spoke in a calm and confident manner.

"Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I stand before you in defense of the men and women who's guiding principles are to 'serve and protect'. The Department of Internal Security has, for 60 years now, defended the rights of the Jedorian people, served their best interests, and continually promoted the welfare, well being, and safety of our fellow citizens not just in Sykios, but across the Confederation. They have done this, despite the numerous potential dangers associated with working in law enforcement, despite a rapidly changing world that requires them to adjust to emerging new threats, and despite the specter of terrorism that haunts our region. The men and women in the Department have done nothing but promote the security of our people, and that is why today I stand ready to defend them against accusations of corruption and malevolence."

"The opposition has claimed that the officers of the Sykios Metropolitan District Command have on several occasions violated the constitutional rights to free assembly. They claim that Internal Security acted without due process and attacked citizens who were merely exercising their rights to protest. They claim that Internal Security acted without regards to the laws they themselves are entrusted with upholding. While I respect their opinions, I do not agree. As you are sure to see by the time of this trial's conclusion, the fine officers of Internal Security only reacted to events that threatened to spill over into acts of violence and anarchy. While it is claimed peaceful protests were all that took place, evidence compiled by video cameras and photographs will clearly show that not only were these protests malevolent and provocative in nature, but members of Internal Security reacted lawfully to events as they unfolded, and in doing so upheld the high standards of Jedorian law enforcement that we are all accustomed to. This concludes the defense's opening statements."

Vianu returned to her seat, smoothing out her skirt while Moldavanu nodded. She turned to Pușcariu and said "Prosecution, you may call your first witness."

Pușcariu nodded and rose from his seat, inhaling softly. It was going to be a long day.

[Jedoria]

Sykios Provincial Court,
Jedoria

"The prosecution calls District Commander Sebastian Comănescu to the stand."

The sound of boots tapping on tiles was the only noise apart from the occasional cough or sneeze as Sebastian Comănescu, commander of the Sykios Metropolitan District, made his way to the witness stand. Comănescu wore his standard duty uniform with pride, polished meals and crisp folds visible for all to see. The District Commander's face was rugged with short cropped gray hair, and a bushy mustache. His even, measured pace brought him to the witness stand, which he entered and stood rigid while the bailiff approached the stand, then raised his right hand, which Comănescu mirrored.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" The bailiff asked.

"I do." Was the gruff response. Satisfied, the bailiff returned to his post, and Comănescu took his seat. Pușcariu approached the witness stand, with his arms behind his back. He examined the District Commander for a moment before speaking. "Mr. Comănescu, how long have you been in charge of the Sykios Metropolitan District?"

"Eight years." Comănescu grunted.

"During your time as District Commander, did you at any point prior bear witness to the level of protests that took place in Sykios these past few weeks?"

"No."

Pușcariu waited to see if anything else was to be said, but the older man remained silent following his single word reply. Not deterred, Pușcariu pressed forward. "Is is true that during the protests you ordered the deployment of all available Disitrct assets, including riot police, to deal with the situation?"

"Yes."

"Why did you feel the need to deploy such units? Reports from several eyewitnesses state the initial protests were lawfully assembled, in opposition to the withdrawal of our forces from the southern border. If such events were lawful, why deploy riot police?"

At the defense table, Vianu looked like she wanted to say something, but Comănescu spoke first. "We received reports that indicated the situation required them."

"Reports? What reports?"

"Phone calls from concerned citizens, if I had to wager."

"If you had to wager?" Pușcariu repeated, with raised eyebrows.

"I'm the District Commander, I don't handle the phones." Comănescu clarified. "I was informed of this by my operators, and I responded accordingly."

"Did you at any point attempt to verify that these calls were legitimate, or that they were indeed painting an accurate picture of the situation unfolding on the streets of Sykios?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I have no reason not to trust my operators. I don't know what kind of line of work you're in son, but in law enforcement we learn how to trust the people we work with. Makes us more effective and efficient."

Pușcariu gave him a false smile and nodded a bit. "Of course, I understand. Is there any level of verification in place to determine the validity of calls that your office receive?"

"Yes, but that's part of the investigation process. First thing first, we respond."

"I see. And you responded to the situation in Sykios by deploying riot police as your first option? Is that standard procedure in responding to reports of protests?"

"Our 'procedure' varies from situation to situation depending on the circumstances." Comănescu replied gruffly.

"And in this case, you felt the circumstances justified deploying riot police as a first response?"Pușcariu asked.

"Objection," Vianu said, rising from her seat, "the prosecution is calling for a conclusion."

Moldavanu considered the claim for a moment, glancing between Vianu and Pușcariu before saying "Overruled. Though stay on the path." She warned Pușcariu, who nodded.

Comănescu was quiet for a moment, furrowing his mustache before replying. "We received reports that indicated the situation required riot officers to handle the situation. We responded based on what information we had available at the time. I gave the order because what intel I had indicated they would be necessary."

Pușcariu pressed further, but couldn't find any further exploits. It wasn't the only witness he had though, and this game would go on for a while. "No further questions." Pușcariu returned to his seat, paving the way for Vianu to take the reigns.

[Jedoria]

Somewhere Not Safe

"Wake up."

An ethereal plane stood before Peter. It went on for as far as the eye could see. A contrast of colors was splayed across his vision; green, purple, red, all spiraling and moving in some kind of trance like dance. It invited him in, spoke to him on a level no words could reach. He wanted nothing more than to join in, singing colors everlasting, letting go of his earthly bonds and ascending to another level of existence.

"I said WAKE UP!"

The words, spoken much harsher and louder this time, still did not stir him from his sleep. The bucket full of ice cold water did. It splattered against him and shot every sensory node over his body into overdrive. Like someone flipping a switch, his mind jump started, abandoning the land of dreams and bringing him crashing back to the harsh reality. Water poured over him and soaked his shirt, skin and hair. It dripped from his brow and obscured his vision, preventing him from seeing anything other than an incredibly bright light, some table before him, and two dark figures on either side of the table. Peter blinked, both in response to the harshness of the light and an attempt to see better. The setting slowly came into view, the two dark figures became clearer until Peter could make out the contours of their uniform. They wore no insignia or lettering, but the dark, almost para-military design screamed Internal Security. Their faces were obscured by balaclavas, but their eyes were visible, dark blue and full of hate.

Reality dawned at a frustratingly slow pace for Peter. He tried to move his body but found his arms bound in front of him. He blinked again and felt cold steel digging into his wrists. His arms lay in front of him, handcuffed to metal rings on the table. He was sitting down, but even if he stood up the cuffs too tightly restrained to allow any real movement, much less standing erect. Peter blinked away, and tried to pull his hands back to this sides. The cuffs wouldn't budge.

"Wha..." Peter tried to speak, but found words hard to come by. The light seemed to be trying to blind him, and the shock of the ice cold awakening still stung like a slap across his face.

"This is how this is going to work Peter." The voice on his right said. It was harsh, full of barely concealed rage, and he didn't recognize it.

"I know you're a Communist. I know you worked with the chapter in Tharkad, and I know for a FACT, that you knew Eugen Brâncoveanu."

Brâncoveanu? What did they want with him? Peter barely knew the man, they had talked maybe twice at chapter meetings, he didn't even know where the guy lived. "I don't, I-"

"And if you don't tell me, I'm going to sever your damn spinal cord with a pair of bolt cutters." To emphasize that point, the figure on the left produced a pair from his back and slammed it down on the table. It sounded frighteningly loud in the enclosed space of the featureless concrete room who's walls Peter could barely make out. The right figure drew closer until he was just mere inches away from Peter's face. Despite the mask, his voice sounded loud and unmuffled.

"Now, WHERE is Brâncoveanu?"

"I-I don't, I do-don't know." Peter's words came out far more slurred than he intended. His whole body felt weak, and despite the cold shower his mind still struggled to move with much speed. He was totally unprepared for when the right figure smashed his fist into Peter's face. An explosion of face erupted around his right eye socket and Peter's head snapped back. He groaned in pain, sucking in breath and trying his best not to let tears seep into his eyes. The guy had a wicked hook.

"DON'T FUCK WITH ME PETER!" The figure on the right screamed in his face. "I know you worked with him! We saw you talking with him outside your party headquarters. You Commie fucktards need to STOP LYING TO ME!"

This time Peter saw the punch coming, but was unable to do anything about it, which in some ways it made it even worse. The man's knuckles slammed against Peter's nose, making his whole head rock back with momentum. It doesn't take a great amount of force to break the human nose, and the right figure's swing was more than enough. Peter let out a loud groan as his head dropped and rested on his chest, blood starting to pool from his nostrils.

"We know that you were working with him on something! You morons don't know how to shred documents for shit." He slammed on hand down on the table, and continued to talk, with every shouted and stressed.. "Decebal and Laura are already talking Peter! There's no point in staying quiet. Every time you keep your slack jaw closed just gives me more reason to hurt you."

Laura? Decebal? What had they done with them? Peter's mind began to worry, but he also felt a growing rage. Who were these punks to do this? Who were they to harm his friends and colleagues? "If you hurt them..." He began, but his voice not carrying much weight.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP PETER!" The right figure hollered, before turning to the figure on the left and nodding. Peter saw movement but not anything specific, but suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass. The left figure now approached with something in his palm, while the one on the right suddenly grabbed Peter's jaw. With rough and unkind fingers he pried Peter's mouth open, wide enough for the left one to shove a piece of glass into his mouth. It was rough, sharp, and dug into the soft skin and tissue of Peter's mouth, which was then clamped shut by the figure on the left. Another hand gripped Peter's throat, preventing him from swallowing. The glass shard was begin enough that it stuck and poked against his gums, tongue and cheek.

"WHERE IS EUGEN?" The one on the right screamed.

"I don't know." Peter tried to say back, but with his mouth clamped shut it came off mumbled and incoherent. The right figure raised his arm and socked Peter squarely in the jaw. The glass shard sliced into his gums and cheeks, causing Peter to scream in pain, only to have it fail to escape his closed mouth. Sharp, stinging pain burned in his mouth as blood began to pool.

"WHERE IS HE?" The right one yelled.

"I don't know!" Peter tried to say again, but between the glass, blood, and shut mouth it was not audible.

Another punch, and the glass shard shattered, but not before cutting up the interior of his oral cavity even further. With the hand clamped down on his throat, blood began to pool in his mouth while the pain threatened to seemingly explode outward. Peter tried to scream again, but it came out as a horrified muffled yell. Just as the blood and shards of glass threatened to choke his airway, the grip on his throat was released. Peter's head shot forward as he gagged and spat out the contents of his mouth. An unnatural amount of blood and shards of glass shot out and splattered across the table. Peter tried to spit out as many pieces as he could, but some had embedded themselves on his tongue and gums. He coughed, a wretched wet one as blood continued to pool out of his mouth, tears running down his cheeks that mixed with the red that now covered his nose, lips and chin. The right figure backed off, only to retrieve the bolt cutters.

"I warned you Peter. I FUCKING WARNED YOU!" The yelled, opening up the clamps. Peter's eyes went wide with fear. The right figure walked up to Peter, and slammed the cold steel of the cutter directly into his neck. Peter yelped with fear and pain.

"You know what the worst part of this is Peter? This isn't going to kill you. I'm just going to snap your vertebrae and leave you paralyzed from the neck down. Have fun living the rest of your life a fucking cripple. I'm sure Marx wrote something about that, right?"

It was too much for Peter as he felt the steel clamps began to close. With tears and blood streaming out of his face, he spat out a single word. "Malva!"

The bolt cutter's stop pressing into his neck. The figure on the right simply stared for a moment.

"Malva." Peter repeated, with ever breath blood trickled from his stained and bruised lips. "I swear I don't know what's there, I just-something in Malva. Eugen said he had friends in Malva. I swear on Gaia's name, I don't know anything else!"

The figure on the right seemed to regard him for a moment with cold, unblinking eyes. He threw the bolt cutters back on the table. "If you had told me that earlier, we could've avoided this whole mess."

He suddenly reached over and grabbed a handful of Peter's curly hair, pulling his head back so much Peter winced in pain. "If I find out your lying to me," The figure said, cold eyes boring into Peter's skull, fury barely contained behind his words, "I will kill you. I'm not even going to be creative about it, I'm just going to take you out to a field, put a gun to the back of your head and blow your brains out of your fucking skull. You understand, Peter?"

With tear streaked eyes, Peter nodded slowly. The grip on his hair eased and withdrew. Before Peter could catch his breath, the figure on the right suddenly said. "Get this communist retard out of my sight." The figure on the left nodded and approached Peter, holding something in his hand that Peter suddenly realized was a syringe. Before he could do anything more than widen his eyes in fear, the needle was jammed into his neck, and everything went dark.

---

When Peter awoke, he was back in his apartment, lying on his bed. His first though was that everything had just been a horrifying dream, but as he opened his mouth to yawn, the familiar taste of copper greeted him.

[Jedoria]

To: Supreme Chief of Internal Security Pytor Olsogovic
From: Minister of Culture Haralamb Rusu
Subject: Ongoing Operations
Encryption: Top Secret; Your Eyes Only

Dear Supreme Chief,

I'm aware that it has been some time since we last spoke. Events in the capital have kept me occupied, and therefore I will not be available for discussion this weekend. Nevertheless, I feel it necessary to bring forward several concerns I have going forward. It is clear that despite your efforts, domestic miscounts have continued to track and even act to impede our efforts across various sectors. While the closure of the Communist headquarters in Tharkad is a victory to be rewarded, it would be foolish for us to assume that the event has not gone unnoticed by other dissident members. In addition, the failure to apprehend Eugen Brâncoveanu represents a failure on the part of your department. It is clear based on what intelligence we gathered from the Tharkad chapter that Brâncoveanu was aware in some way or another of the operations being undertaken by Internal Security.

In case you haven't had a chance to look over them yourselves, the evidence we gathered didn't give any indications that Brâncoveanu was fully aware of it's intentions, but it nevertheless represents a potential leak that if left unchecked could potentially undermine the entire endeavor. Comments made by the Reverend Vlaicu indicate that the Christians are beginning to grow suspect, and if driven far enough they will surely align with other miscounts and present a united front; all the harder to break. Furthermore, the larger the opposition, the louder. If action is not taken the miscounts could threaten to bring regional attention to the situation here. We cannot rely on foreign ignorance or apathy as a safeguard; the Duke has shown himself vulnerable to foreign pressure and cannot be counted on. The DSA is already being challenged in the courts, but it is unlikely the CPCL will be entirely distracted by the legal proceedings.

Therefore, it is imperative we push forward with necessary discretion and caution. The communists themselves are an isolated and weak opponent, but if they rally with others it may prove more difficult than anticipated. Until further notice, continue with amputations on the coast, I will see to it that things remain coordinated within Strana Mechty itself. Clamp cannot proceed until a confession has been provided, so capture of Brâncoveanu remains top priority. I expect Blackhammer will proceed with all due haste, though if necessary, remind him that surreptitious action is required. Until Paler is cowed, we can't deal with third party interference at this time.

The Duke cannot be trusted. If necessary, we will be forced to act in the best interests if he fails to follow through on this support for the DSA. Cernea remains reliable, and ideally her promotion will see us through.

Kind Regards,
Rusu

[Jedoria]

Conference Room,
The Duke's Hearth, Strana Mechty

Răceanu stood at the end of the conference table that was shaped like an elongated race track, with chairs on each side that were filled by the members of his cabinet. Every Minister was present here, in varying forms of attentiveness. The Duke was growing increasingly divided internally. His foreign policy had been a mixed bag. Alliances had been formed with various states, but it had brought a great deal of international instability, and now a seventh of the Confederate Army was in New Othman fighting terrorists and insurgents. His decision to demobilize the border had been met with controversy, and since apparently Internal Security couldn't handle a protest without outright aggression, there had been riots and now the courts were full of cases against the Department for constitutional violations. His approval ratings had plummeted; the right was angry at the de-escalation, the foreign appeasement, and now the nuclear disarmament, while the left was infuriated at the Domestic Security Act and increasing militarization.

The Domestic Security Act in particular was a growing divisive issue. The Military and the Department of Internal Affairs continued to justify it. Terrorist attacks in Adiron, New Othman, and most recently New Edom proved that terrorism was still alive and very much a threat to security and safety. Foreign Affairs argued that Jedoria wasn't a target as far as Confederate Intelligence Service could conclude, while the Ministry of Justice raised concerns over the legality of certain provisions in the Act. Răceanu was aware that as this meeting was being held, both the Department of Internal Security and the CIS were launching operations designed to clear out the Confederation of potential spies and infiltrators. It didn't matter if they were Edomite Council Police, Adiran AIS, Imperial Inquisition, even Noviteran agents; if they were found they would be taken.

Less comforting were reports he was getting regarding Internal Security's actions. Nothing solid yet, but rumors of some detestable actions were beginning to circulate. Olsogovic assured the Duke what the Department was doing was absolutely necessary given the circumstances. He had believed him the first time the Supreme Chief had told him that, but by the hundreth time the words seemed a bit hollow.

And now Vadam was gone. The Field Marshall was retiring, passing the torch to Colonel General Bianca Cernea. Privately Răceanu felt guilty for pushing him too hard. He had forced the military to embark on massive logistical undertakings; the withdrawal, the deployment to New Othman, forcing the armed forces to string out and defend allies across the region. He had sent them to fight the Vozgarni even when Vadam warned him they weren't ready, only winning through superior firepower and numbers. Răceanu had entered into office confident, but now doubt and anxiety sapped him of energy every day. Dragan had criticized him as inexperienced, insults that seemed more accurate than he would've liked to admit.

Worse of all he had grown distant from Isabela. She spent most of her time with Darius now, rarely seeing her other father except at night or early in the morning. She was growing up fast, her birthday had been held and he had gifted her a telescope so she could explore the stars. She asked him constantly if they could go star gazing together, but time did not permit such father-daughter bonding experiences. Quietly, Răceanu felt he was failing as a parent.

Răceanu had always taken pride in his physical strength. He seemed powerful enough to lift any other regional leader above his head and snap them over his knee, but he struggled a bit to keep his hands from shaking as he rested them on the conference table.

"Okay," He said in a voice that was noticeably less energetic than the one he possessed four years ago, "Lay it on me."

Andrei Paler, the Foreign Minister, spoke first in a calm demeanor. "The New Edomites are growing concerned about Gloria Regis. They suspect it is a bastion for the terrorist group Homofront, and they have failed to uphold the treaty obligations that was part of their agreement for independence. The Shrailleeni are planning on holding high level talks with Commonwealth leadership regarding the situation."

Răceanu rubbed his eyes. "Then we'll wait to see what the Shrailleeni accomplish before going any further. Eventually the Mother Empress is going to come knocking on our door, right?"

Paler nodded.

"Okay, what about New Othman?"

"The last of our forces are arriving now." Minister of Defense Rotaru reported. "By next week the entirety of our divisions will be on scene and will begin setting up bases of operation."

"And Ashab?"

"Nothing noteworthy to report, sir." Colonel General Cernea, who had already begun taking on the roles of Field Marshall.

Răceanu sighed. "Alright, now the trouble on the homefront. But first, the exercises?"

Cernea responded again. "They'll be concluding within the next few days sir. All indications so far point to a resounding success."

"At least that's good news." Răceanu grumbled. "Okay, now what's this shit I keep hearing from Internal Security?"

Minister of Internal Affairs Otilia Țurcanu, who's Ministry handled Internal Security, spoke up. "Sir, with respect, the Department is doing all it can to safeguard the Confederation against potential threats that-"

"Otilia I fucking swear to Gaia if you keep giving me these bullshit non answers I will pour molten silver down your throat." The Duke growled in response.

The middle aged women shut her mouth for a moment, before clearing her throat and retrying. "Sir, the current situation with regards to terrorist threats is unclear. They're literally popping up out of nowhere, usually outside the region, but they're clearly demonstrated the capability to target nations here, including our neighbors. We don't know for certain where they might strike next. Until we get some kind of indication that we're safe, it doesn't hurt us to maintain current operations."

Răceanu frowned. "I don't like the idea of our national law enforcement going on witch hunts. Are the Communists really that much of a threat?"

"Sir, like any other minority group, the potential to feel or perceive disenfranchisement is very likely. The Communists are already unpopular and have been operating in a clandestine nature for as long as we can remember. The potential for them to be a possible front for further domestic strife is severe."

"That sounds awfully assuming." Răceanu pointed out.

"Sir, with respect," Minister of Culture Rusu pointed out, "Simply playing wait and see isn't a very good policy plan either. Communism may not be popular in this region, but there are very powerful Marxist states out there. And like the Minister has stated, the most recent terrorist attacks in New Edom came from groups that were created outside this region. Frankly, given the amount of political turmoil our courts are experiencing, not to mention the protesters, it's the perfect opportunity for a Communist ploy."

Paler grimaced. "And if people find out our law enforcement is kidnapping and torturing people, Communists are going to be the last of our worry."

"And why should that matter?" Rusu shot back. "Our internal affairs are our own. The safety of our people and the security of our State trump foreign concerns for procedure."

Răceanu frowned, partially because he didn't like the idea of what Internal Security was doing, but couldn't disagree with Rusu's point. Shaking his head, he said "Whatever IntSec's going to do, they need to do it fast and make sure it works. If this backfires, we're all going to be fucked."

[Jedoria]

Artur Lucescu Nature Preserve
Province of Malva, Jedoria

The Paraceratherium was the largest terrestrial mammal to ever walk the earth. One of Gaia's proudest creation, the Paraceratherium had been sheltered from the extinction events that most of Cornellia had been spared from for various reasons. With a head as large as a grown man, and shoulders at over five meters tall, the average weight of a specimen was 15-20 tons, sometimes more. The ancient inhabitants of Jedoria, the Ba'ku, revered the Paraceratherium as holy animals, calling them Onu-Arthron: "earth-shaker". It was easy to see and feel why; standing near one as it lumbered across the land resonated on the surface, making trees and grass quiver as though in fear. When the Jedorians had arrived to the land they were in equal awe at the beast the seemed to defy normal classification. Even with steel and fire they preferred to keep their distance from the earth-shaker, and it seemed content to go about it's life without interference from the Jedorians.

It wasn't hard to see why the Paraceratherium had thrived in Jedoria. Though they bred rarely and matured slowly, once they had reached young adulthood they are more powerful than any predator in Jedoria. Once adulthood was reached there wasn't a land animal in Cornellia that could threaten it. Although it resembled an elephant in many ways, the Paraceratherium was in fact a hornless relative to the rhino, though much larger. Without any natural predators the Paraceratherium had lived on, slowly plodding it's way through Jedoria, grazing lazily while the land around them changed and formed into the Jedorian Confederation. The Paraceratherium was chosen as the national animal of Jedoria and it's image was seen commonly in tourist related products and featured prominently in gift shops.

Though a number of them still roamed freely across the Jedorian provinces, a large number of them were kept safe in nature preserves across the country. Artur Lucescu Nature Preserve was home to about fifty Paraceratherium. They tended to live in small herds of a few individuals, mostly females with their calves that they protected from any potential predators. A few solitary males grazed and occasionally made attempts to mate with the females. Typically once the female was impregnated, it was only a few months before she forced her previous calf to leave. While a frightening ordeal for the young Paraceratherium, in truth he would have little to fear. No natural predator could harm him, and by the time he reached full size, most got used to living on Artur Lucescu Nature Preserve.

The staff that worked the preserve were a mix of biologists and vetinarians who specalized in taking care of the four legged behemoths. Dorina Sandu was one of the former, at least in training. The second year college student volunteered at the Preserve as part of a extra-cirricular credit program that made her an attractive hire to potential employees at zoos and preserves like this. Sandu lay flat on her belly, her khakis and tank top dirty as she remained motionless on the ground, arms and hands in front of her face with a camera. With a sharp inhale of breath, she watched as a young female calf trotted up to it's much larger mother, who was grazing idly on a few branches. The young calf snorted for a moment as it tried to raise it's mouth up to feed just as it's mother was doing. It was a futile gesture; the calf was too short to reach the branches and she was still living on a diet of her mother's milk, but it was an important scene nonetheless. Dorina pressed the capture button on her camera and it clicked successfully as it captured the young calf trying to graze like it's mother. Young Paraceratherium learned largely through intimidation of their parents, learning how to feed and care for themselves once they were finally kicked out of the nest.

A small smile formed on Dorina's lips as she snapped another picture. Her report on the Paraceratherium was coming along nicely, just a few more pictures, a conclusion, and she was sure to pass with flying colors. She was ready to take a few more when her walkie talkie, attached to her hip through a belt loop, started buzzing. Retrieving the device, she pressed down on the transmitter and spoke. "This is Dorina."

"Dorina, it's Ion." The familiar voice belonged to her team leader, a scruffy middle aged man with a sparse brown beard, usually dressed in loose fitting, comfortable clothes and hiking boots. "There's some guys from Internal Security here to speak to you."

Dorina paused a bit at the end of Ion's statement. Internal Security? What were they doing here? Had something happened at her college? And she gotten a ticket? Frowning, Dorian assured Ion she was on her way. Stowing away her camera in her satchel, she stood up from her position and after earning a glance by the mother Paraceratherium to make sure the human posed no concern, made her way back down the trail towards the main camp. It was a short walk that left her with enough time to ponder why Jedoria's national police would be interested in her. She arrived at the camp but with no conclusion, and took note of what first appeared to be two soldiers standing near a man she recognized as Ion. A closer examination however revealed the dark grey uniforms that belonged to Internal Security, though covered partially by a load carrier that was full of magazines. Dorina had seen a few articles on campus expressing concern regarding the militarization of police, and the two heavily armed field agents seemed to confirm that.

"Can I help you guys?" Dorina asked as she approached the two. Both men were taller than her, average height for Jedorian males at 6 foot 2 inches, and they focused their gaze on her rather quickly. Dorina raised her eyebrows and took note of the submachine gun one had strapped to his leg, but said nothing.

"Are you Dorina Sandu?" One of them asked. Straight to the point.

"Yes, I'm me." She said. "Is there a problem officer?"

"We just have a few questions we need you to answer." The other agent said. Dorina noted that it sounded more like a matter-of-fact rather than a request. The first agent glanced at Ion, saying nothing, but evidently getting the message across that he wasn't required anymore, and Ion made his way over to a tent that had been set up nearby. Dorina noted with a bit of thankfulness though that he didn't go far and seemed to keep an eye on her and the two IntSec agents.

"What kind of questions?" She asked.

The first agent reached in his pocket and retrieved a small piece of paper that turned out to be a picture of a man. Dorina glanced at it curiously. "Do you know this man?" The agent asked.

Dorina did; he was Eugen, an acquaintance that she had once shared an apartment building with. "Yeah, Eugen. What's wrong, is he missing?"

"We're not at liberty to discuss the details of the investigation." The other agent said shortly. "We just need to know a few things."

"Like what?" Dorina asked, a bit bewildered. The Eugen she remembered was a fairly quiet, non-descriptive man. She didn't know him very well, he had lived on the same floor but they rarely s interacted beyond idle conversation while they waited for their laundry to finish.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Uh, maybe...couple months ago? Why?"

"How long ago?" The second agent asked, ignoring her inquiry. "Exactly?"

"Um, I'm not sure, maybe...three months? Four? Three and a half?" Dorina said, unable to recall.

"Well, which is it?" The first one demanded.

"Look, I don't know, okay?" Dorina said a bit defensively. For agents of an organization who's motto was "Protect and Serve", they were awfully unfriendly. "Maybe, three and a half months? I don't remember the last time for sure, I just know I saw him for the last time and then I later found out he had moved out of the apartment building. I'm not even sure when he moved."

"Apartment building? You mean Stanzlaw Housing in Malva?" The first one asked.

"Yeah, that's the one." Dorina confirmed, not mentioning she found it a little unsettling they now knew where she lived. "What's all this for anyway?"

"Were you aware that Eugen Brâncoveanu was a communist?" The second one asked.

"A-a Communist?" Dorina repeated, now thoroughly confused. "No, I mean, we never talked politics."

"How often did you two communicate?"

"Uh, does it matter?" The look they gave her made her grow increasingly uncomfortable. "Rarely, really. We sometimes did laundry at the same time and chatted, you know, small talk. I ran into him at a store a few times, he offered to take out my trash once since he was already doing it, I returned the favor. You know, small neighbor stuff."

The two agents glanced at one another. "Do you know of any locations where Eugen Brâncoveanu else might've stayed? Any friends or family nearby?"

Dorina shook her head. "I told you, we only talked a few times. I couldn't even remember his last name until you said it."

Once again the two agents glanced at one another, as though speaking through telepathic means. One of them reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a phone, pressing a few buttons and watching the screen for a moment. Dorina waited with uncertainty. There was a beep from the device and then it disappeared back into the agent's pocket, and then he nodded at his counterpart. The first agent returned his gaze to Dorian. "Thank you for you're time ma'am. I should warn you, Eugen Brâncoveanu is being investigated for charges against the State and is considered very dangerous. If you see him again, contact us immediately."

Dorina barely suppressed shaking her head. Very dangerous? The Eugen she remembered looked like he would lose a fight to a mouse. "Right, okay." She said, at this point just hoping the two men would leave. The agents seemed to regard her with wary eyes before the turned on their heels and walked back to the their cruiser, which sped away after the car doors closed, back down the road that led out of the preserve. Once gone, Ion returned to Dorina's side. "What was that all about?" He asked.

Dorina shook her head. "They were asking about some guy I used to live in the same apartment with."

"What for?"

Dorina watched the cruiser disappear over the horizon. "What ever it is, I got a bad feeling about it."

[Jedoria]

Kypsala,
Province of Malva, Jedoria

The rain wasn't stopping. It had started early yesterday and hadn't ceased since then, constant downpour that pattered on the windows and roofs of apartment buildings and stores, pooling in puddles around sidewalks and on the edges of streets. Street signs flashed with warnings that told motorists of flooded streets and overflowing streams. As cards drove by they kicked up small waves of water that splashed on sidewalks and wet shoes and low cuffs of pants and trousers. For Eugen Brâncoveanu, it was a rhythmic melody that helped to put his mind at ease when he truly did need a moment of reprieve.

The door to the room opened and Nicu walked in, carrying a small tray of food and drink. "Hey, figured you might be hungry." The younger man said as he walked in, closing the door behind him with a raised foot. Eugen stopped staring out the window to cast an appreciative glance towards the younger man, and his current landlord. "Much appreciated, my friend." Eugen turned in his seat away from the window and faced the table, where Nicu placed the tray down and unfolded a few napkins from his pocket. He turned to leave, but Eugen stopped him with words alone. "Won't you join me?"

Nicu turned back around and sat down at the table opposite of Eugen, eyes falling a bit while Eugen ate. The older man offered him a few slices of bread and the two consumed their meal largely in silence, only the sound of falling rain serving as an ambiance. Nicu's gaze rarely rose above eye level, a factoid Eugen noted rather quickly. "Does something trouble you?" He asked.

Nicu took a moment before replying. "You seem so calm friend. Internal Security is looking for you."

Eugen nodded. "Yes, they are. Should that worry me?"

Nicu looked a bit taken back. "If they capture you Eugen, surely they will put you through a great deal of pain."

Eugen nodded again. "Yes, they will most likely do so. An ordeal I have never experienced before."

Nicu waited for more but nothing else was said. "Doesn't that frighten you?"

Eugen's eyes widened a bit. "Oh, to my very core. But tell me, would Internal Security still be hunting me even if I expressed my worry in a more visible way?"

Nicu didn't have to think about it for long. "Yes, most certainly."

Eugen shrugged. "Then there is no reason to show it. Internal Security will try to find me regardless of whether or not I spend all day pacing around sweating with fear. They will hunt me regardless of how I act. At least this way I'm a bit more comfortable."

Nicu slowly nodded. "I see. You're braver man than I."

Eugen offered a small smile. "Or at least I am capable of pretending to be one."

They chuckled at that. They ate for a few more moments in silence before Nicu spoke again. "Where will you go?"

Now it was Eugen's turn to think for a moment before speaking. "The Reverend Paul Vlaicu of the First Imperial Church in Los Matar has brought attention to our cause. He knows his people are next. My hope is to meet with him and work out a way for our two causes to present a united front."

"Why would the Christians support you?" Nicu asked, voice with a hint of reservation.

"The good Reverend knows his people are next after the Communists are taken care of. Internal Security is taking us out one by one. If we stay divided, we will be conquered with ease."

Nicu frowned, but seemed to accept it. "How will you get Los Matar? Internal Security has checkpoints at every border province."

Eugen pondered the question. "I have been thinking about it. Unfortunately, this isn't something we can really test out to see if possible ideas would work. I have been thinking of a few possible solutions."

"Like what?" Nicu asked.

"Would you happen to know any pilots?" Eugen asked with a hint of humor.

Nicu's eyebrows raised. "I might, why, are you planning on flying there."

Eugen shrugged. "I don't exactly have a plethora of options."

The wail of a siren suddenly cut into the stillness of the rainfall, and both men stiffened suddenly. For a few terrifying moments, the sound drew nearer and nearer, but it passed quickly (though felt like an eternity to the two), and was soon muffled by distance, than inaudible. Nicu exhaled. "That was scary."

Eugen nodded. "However, I think silence in some cases is even more frightening." The two men finished their meal before Eugen returned to waiting in his study. Nicu went to his living room and rifled through a book case, fingers tapping against worn leather spines before pulling out a small green book, which opened up to reveal a great many names and phone numbers he had gathered over the years. One of them had to be a pilot, or know one.

[Jedoria]

Lists (1)

one provincial command headquarters

six district headquarters

four thousand, six hundred and ninety three field agents, detectives, sheriffs, deputies, public affairs specialists, supporting law enforcement personnel

six hundred and forty one ground vehicles

twenty two helicopters

four unmanned aerial vehicles

five thousand, four hundred and fifteen small arms

fifty six thousand rounds of ammunition

two hundred and fifty eight arrests

forty four reported incidents of police brutality

two confirmed incidents of police brutality

twenty seven total suspects

fourteen arrests

nine unlisted interrogation sessions

zero confirmed confessions regarding location of objective RED KING

[Jedoria]

26 kilometers outside Piatra Rosie,
Province of Malva, Jedoria

The coastline of Jedoria could normally expect a healthy does of rain each year, courtesy of the tropical storms that formed out in the Tempesta. While they occasionally ravaged the island of Peregrino, by the time the cells had crossed the gulf they had lost most of their strength, having departing the sea area where warm water currents kept them fed and fueled. Before dissipating though the storms preferred to empty out what remained of their liquid banks on the cities and towns that ran along the Jedorian coast. Rainstorms were common during the spring and summer and today was no exception. Already dark at half past 7 p.m, the sky was an unforgiving ceiling of imposing dark gray and near black. A million raindrops fell from above and landed on wood, concrete, metal and dirt, a constant gentle roar of pattering water that could be heard even under shelter from the storm.

Piatra Rosie, despite it's gentle and feminine name, was a dirty, industrial city. Neon lights and tall buildings formed it's skyline that was just barely visible this distance away, but the culminating emission of so many city lights cast an odd resonance on the horizon, letting even distant viewers know that a city lay there, still moving and breathing despite the rising moon and coming night. On the outskirts of the city, past the suburbs, were small stores and enterprises, many of them abandoned or nearly so. Cheaper, less refined versions of products you could find in many other businesses were sold here, marketed at travelers and those like them that cared for little other than basic functionality. Although some remained open late at night in the off chance some motorist decided to stop by, one in particular, a small general store. It was in this particular establishment that cover had been taken, making use of the rows of the shelves to provide cover and concealment. Though taken as refuge, both of the men inside knew their safety was temporary and fading fast.

A click followed as the magazine slid into the small automatic weapon cradled precariously in hands that were still slightly trembling. Rareș kept his eyes on the weapon to make sure it was fully loaded and ready to fire, neglecting to put the safety into position. Behind a shelf full of cardboard boxes he crouched in wait. On the other side of the walkway hidden behind a smaller but somewhat sturdier looking shelf, Francisc visibly exhaled and readied his own weapon. The two men were silent, letting the chorus of falling rain serve as ambiance as they waited. For a few minutes that was all that was heard. Rareș allowed his eyes to travel up the frame of his compatriot, taking note of the bandaged left arm, the white cloth now stained with what was surely a dangerous amount of red. Rareș couldn't help but express his concern.

"Esti bine?"

Francisc seemed to be surprised at the question, but quickly shook his head dismissively. "Nu-ți face griji cu mine, suntem pe cale de a avea probleme mai mari." He said, quietly.

Rareș grimaced but nodded. His eyes lingered on the wound for a moment before returning downward to gaze upon the weapon in his hands. He hadn't fired it before tonight, and was starting to regret having never practiced with it. It was too late now. Francisc's words proved prophetic, after just another minute the chorus of steady falling rain was joined with the wail of approaching sirens, the screeching of tires as they came to a halt, and the muffled sounds of voices, angry, desperate, eager. Rareș inhaled and then exhaled more sharply than he would've preferred, a growing sense of unease filling his belly and mind. It wouldn't be long now.

The store was darkened by the lack of electricity running to the main light fixtures, with only distant street lights having provided illumination through the windows by now. Now headlights from parked cruisers pointed towards the glass panes that served as the primary entrance for the building. The bright white lights cast long shadows and brightened the whole room, revealing shelves of merchandise and consumer products. Rareș felt his heart beat with growing speed. He looked back at Francisc, who returned his gaze steadily. The two kept their eyes locked on one another when the first voice called out, amplified through a megaphone.

"Acest lucru este de securitate internă!" The voice revealed, as though the two occupants of the building would not have guessed that by now. Rareș let his eyes glance upward as though to peak over the shelf, but in his crouched position he was far too short to do so.

"Leși afară cu mâinile unde le pot vedea!" The voice bellowed out again.

Rareș let his gaze fall back to his weapon, then over to Francisc. Any moment now. His fingers tightened their grip around the weapon. He breathed out slowly, trying to control his racing heart and calm himself down. Being frantic wouldn't help him or his comrade right now. Focus. Easier said than done.

"Ai zece secunde pentru a se conforma!" The ultimatum came through. Rareș closed his eyes and reopened them slowly. This was it. He met Franciscs gaze unwavering, who nodded in return. "Pregateste-te." He said.

With that, Rares pivoted around so as to face the only other entrance to the building, a metal door towards the back , located well within his range of fire, specifically the reason Rareș was at the angle and position he was. He raised his weapon and dug the stock into his shoulder, preparing to steady it to compensate for the recoil. He heard a click as Francisc confirmed a magazine was properly loaded into his rifle. For eight maddening seconds, they waited. Amid the falling rain Rareș heard the sound of metal scratching, coming from the rear entrance he had his ironsights laid on. The lock was being cut. Rareș absentmindedly flexed his fingers, trying to get some kind of comfortable while kneeling in the puddle of water that hat dripped off his jacket since arriving in the store.

The final second ticked off, and a boot kicked in the door. The moment he saw movement, he squeezed the trigger.

For such a small weapon, it's automatic fire gave off an impressive recoil, and a screaming roar that blasted Rareș's eardrums. It kicked back into his frame, the barrel bucking upwards as it spewed out rounds towards the doorway. The first figure to step inside received the full blast and staggered backwards as his whole body shook with the impacts of multiple jacketed rounds. The agent crumbled back out the door, just as another attempted to set his foot inside, raising his rifle to return fire. Rareș didn't let up, continuing to depress the trigger and send bullets towards the doorway. Either a direct hit or ricochet succeeded, sending the second agent back out the door. For a moment, the rear entrance was secure.

On the other aisle, Francisc had raised his rifle to fire upon any agent suicidal enough to commence a frontal assault. As it turned out, the agents did not advance but did make use of their superior numbers and weapons to unleash a hail of rounds. The glass windows shattered and collapsed as bullets tore into them, slamming into shelves and walls with barking automatic weapons fire. Francisc ducked behind his cover hastily to escape the gunfire, cradling his rifle in his hands and staying low in the face of such oppressive actions. When there were brief lulls he raised his rifle to fire back, squeezing off rounds, only the duck back down when the agents responded in force with greater firepower.

Rareș kept his eyes on the rear doorway but there was no movement, until suddenly something was tossed inside and clattered about. Fear and surprised seized Rareș and he threw himself away further behind the shelf. The explosion that followed was not as resounding as expected, and came with more of a crack than a bang, but most noticeably there was a bright flash of light. Flashbang. Rareș quickly rectified himself, cursing his forced movement and tried to get back into position to fire back. Despite his haste he was unable to set up before at least two agents managed to burst in and take cover behind a counter top, kneeling behind the cover and opening fire with their automatic weapons. Rareș ducked his head low as bullets tore into the shelf and caused the whole display to shake with unease. Rareș glanced up and quickly deduced his current situation was destined to be compromised.

"Francisc, trebuie să ne mișcăm!" He yelled out, trying to make himself heard over the roar of gunfire. At first Francisc didn't reply, still ducking behind his cover, but before Rareș could repeat his last, Francisc suddenly looked up and yelled back. "Du-te pentru scara, te voi acoperi!" Rareș quickly located the ladder and crawled towards a point where the agents no longer had a solid view of him. Rising to his feet he stormed his way through the store, weaving and dodging through aisles while he swore that rounds passed just overhead. With a hard slam he dropped to his knees and slid behind the cover of a small counter next to the ladder, before yelling he was set and ready to return the favor.

Francisc rose to his feet and began to run towards the ladder as well while Rareș began firing towards the front of the store. At this angle he could make out the headlights belonging to the cruisers that were parked outside the store, but the figures that were shooting at him were impossible to discern between the contrast of bright headlights and the darkness of early night. His weapon suddenly clicked dry and he was forced to hastily discharge the empty one and insert a fresh supply of ammunition before he could resume firing. Just as he did, Francisc dropped down next to him, having managed to avoid the gunfire. Their position however was now compromised; they were surely only moments away from being flanked once the agents who had entered through the back realized both wanted men had relocated.

Both men were prepared however for what came next. While Francisc took up position and began to fire back at both groups of agents, Rareș turned, slung his weapon over his shoulder, and rapidly began to climb the ladder towards the roof of the building. Reaching the top, he pressed with his hands to open the door to the roof, realizing only then that it was possible for the agents to have positioned themselves there first. Cautiously, Rareș's head peacked out from the opened hatch and glanced around. Rain continued to fall and landed on his head, but as he looked around he saw no sign of any other presence on the roof. Lifting himself upward he clambered on top and motioned for Francisc to follow. After exchanging a final few bursts, he too slung his rifle and began to rapidly climb up the ladder, crawling onto the roof and shutting the hatch closed with his boot.

The roof would provide only temporary safety. It wouldn't take long for the agents to realize the opposing gunfire had ceased and began to move in, simple logic and observation deducing that the two men had fled up the ladder. Their haven would have to be found elsewhere. For a moment they allowed themselves to catch their breaths, rain still falling in droves around them, turning the flat roof to a wet slick surface. The sound of gunfire began to die down, letting Francisc and Rareș know they had precious little time left. Rising to their feet, they made their way over to the side of the building, away from both the rear entrance and the front. As they reached the edge, Rareș peered over the side to confirm that below on ground level a dumpster waited. Nodding at Francisc, Rareș carefully lowered himself off the ledge to land on the slanted roof of the dumpster. With a metal thud that was louder than he would've preferred, he landed, and quickly began to slide off. Using his hands he managed to stall the descent long enough to orient himself so he fell off the dumpster with a little more grace, landing on his two feet. A similar thud and screech of sliding fabric confirmed that Francisc had done the same.

They were off the roof but far from safe. They're only chance now was to either steal a vehicle or escape off in the brush. The storm raging above prevented the usage of most helicopters and aerial vehicles out of safety concerns, and presented the best opportunity to escape. Without much hesitation the two men began to move across the side parking lot, hoping the cover of the storm and their unexpected departure would conceal them.

The yell of "Le am în vizor meu!" revealed they had failed, and just a moment later automatic gunfire was unleashed, peppering the ground and small concrete barrier that was the only cover in the empty parking lot. Both Francisc and Rareș ducked behind what cover they had as bullets slammed into the concrete and asphalt, tossing up chunks of both materials. With their position compromised escape became that much harder. Worse, more and more agents began to come to their colleagues aid, providing an even greater volume of fire against the two men. Francisc and Rareș tried to return fire but found themselves vastly out-gunned. Worse, they were out numbered, out matched, and seemingly out of time.

"A alerga pentru acel coș de gunoi, te voi acoperi!" Francisc urged over the roar of incoming fire. A small concrete enclosure surrounded a second dumpster on the other side of the parking lot. It would provide adequate cover for now, though Rareș knew it was still only a temporary solution. Nodding, he steeled himself to run in the face of what was certain to be an immense amount of incoming rounds. When a lull appeared on the agent's side, Francisc roared at Rareș to run, raising his own rifle and firing on fully automatic, sweeping the agent's position from side to side. The agents ducked behind the firing line they had established that was effectively parallel to the concrete wall that was the two men's cover. Rareș knew he couldn't stay covered for long and burst outward, running at full speed towards the second dumpster. Bullets smacked into the ground around him and whistled overhead. Panic and fear snapped at Rareș with each step, boots running into puddles of water that splashed and soaked his jeans. Rareș ignored it all and barreled forward as fast as his legs could carry him, lungs exploding with air as he finally lunged forward behind the cover of the dumpster.

Settling down behind it, Rareș yelled back at Francisc that he could now move. Raising his own weapon from behind the cover of the small concrete wall, he fired at the agents in short bursts, trying to keep their heads down while his comrade rose from his cover and began running towards Rareș. Francisc ran with flat footed determination, his heavy frame swinging as he sprinted for cover. Just as he crossed the midway point between the two covers, a burst of rifle fire tore into his torso while a double tap slammed into his head. The only reaction besides his body physically moving to the side was a widening of eyes, following by a loosening grip on his rifle. As Francisc dropped to the ground dead, his rifle clattered to the asphalt with him, coming to a rest next to corpse of it's former owner.

Rareș's mind went blank. Rain continued to fall, soaking his brown chestnut hair, dripping down the side of his face and torso. After a moment of shock, he screamed in a primal rage and raised his weapon, depressing the trigger and raking the entire firing line of the agents. He screamed as loud as his weapon, ignoring the return fire that quickly out matched his own. His cover provided protection, but just as he prepared another bust, his weapon clicked dry. Fumbling, he dropped the empty magazine and reached for another. His hands came up empty. Cursing, Rareș dropped back into cover and discarded his weapon and reached for his secondary. Clumsy hands struggled to unleash it, until finally he pulled out a handgun that he quickly cocked and made ready to fire. Just as he was about to turn around and do just that, he stopped.

Francisc was dead. His body lay not far from where Rareș stood, in a puddle of water that was rapidly mixing with blood. Rareș was alone now, about to be surrounded by agents and surely captured, if not killed. If they could avoid doing so they would surely capture him, take him as prisoner and try to pry what they could from him. Rareș leaned back against the concrete wall and slid down until he sat on the asphalt, not caring that practically every bit of clothing he had was now soaking wet. It was over now. His comrade was slain, his primary weapon useless, and now he was more outgunned than ever. The end of the line stood before him, taunting him with it's inevitability. Bitterness swelled inside Rareș as he came to understand the full extent of his predicament. He was a wanted man, for crimes he didn't commit, condemned for mere association to the likes of Eugen, Peter and Nicu. It filled him with a quiet fury. The agents wanted him alive, living and breathing so they could make him wish he wasn't, to extract any bit of information he might have on other communists. He wouldn't let them have it.

Rareș sighed quietly. The gunfire was beginning to die down. He was at the end, but found no more room left for anger or resentment, no repentance or regret. His mind wandered to recollection. Images and scenes danced in his mind like a movie reel, sweet and tender moments of friendship and love standing out and reminding him of all the wonderful moments he had enjoyed with all his friends and family. He closed his eyelids, and when he opened them some memories escaped out of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Rareș looked up, tucked the barrel of his handgun underneath his chin, and pulled the trigger.

[Jedoria]

The steady tapping of Alina Caragiale's foot synced up well with the music being played over the bus's intercom system, a pleasant slow beat that added nicely to the serene scene aboard the bus car, which traveled at a comfortable speed towards the capital of Strana Mechty. Alina had enjoyed her travels but was glad to be back in familiar territory, taking in the sights and sounds of the province she called home. Thus bus she sat aboard was one she had traveled on more times than she could count, enough that she recognized the faces of several other passengers on board. She sat alone in her seat, earphones nestled on the sides of her heads while she held her phone in hand. The older model that was now outdated in Novitera was the standard for most Jedorians who could afford one, but Alina found it suited her needs just fine. With a free thumb she scrolled through the variety of apps she had on the device, settling on one that provided news and information.

Opening it up she scanned the headlines with calm eyes, taking in a few points of notice. Something about pirates in Ceti, another article about United Valik. A few caught her eye; several of her countrymen had been killed in New Othman, fighting against terrorists and insurgents there. Elections had been scheduled for Peregrino this summer. The court cases regarding the actions of Internal Security in response to several nation-wide protests were still ongoing. Apparently they were being bogged down in debate and proceedings. Apparently a Christian priest in Los Matar was planing on holding some kind of rally to protest things Internal Security had done.

Alina frowned as she tapped the screen to open up the last article, and read through the opening paragraphs. Since returning to Jedoria she had heard several rumors going on around her college campus. According to what she had heard the Department of Internal Security was engaging in some rather shady dealings, something to do with communists. Like most rumors they were vague, leaving much to the imagination while leaving little for actual details or information. Still, they were frequently being told in hushed or quiet tones between students and friends. Off campus Alina hadn't heard much, save for passing phrases and similar sentiments. For the most part it did little to bother Alina, but as she read through more of the article she couldn't stop her mind from wandering.

The Reverend Paul Vlaicu, of the First Los Matar Imperial Church, was apparently concerned about what he saw as an increasingly militarized and aggressive national police force, and was planning on gathering supporters and like minded individuals to rally in the liberal city of Los Matar to bring light to these issues. Internal Security had already responded, stating that the Reverend's concerns were unwarranted, and the Department remained committed to the safety and security of the entirety of the Confederation. Vlaicu was seemingly unconvinced, highlighting recent actions against Communists as evidence of a systematic campaign of oppression and persecution.

Alina's eyes darted from line to line as she read the words on the small screen. She wasn't a very political person, she held general egalitarian views and was a daily live and let live kind of person. The idea that the national police force she trusted to protect herself and the rest of her fellow citizens was secretly attempting to eliminate a political minority troubled her. She glanced up from her phone as she felt the bus come to a stop, recalling that this was where this route normally paused for an Internal Security checkpoint. Knowing the usual procedure, Alina reached into her bag and produced her ID card. Other passengers around her did likewise, as the doors of the bus opened up and two field agents stepped on board.

By now field agents like these resembled soldiers more than police officers. Body armor equipped with magazine holsters and similar components for sidearms were strapped to their torso. Alina noted with a bit of surprise that one of them had what appeared to be an assault rifle holstered, while the other rested his hands on a submachinegun. The assault rifle bearing agent walked ahead with a small scanner that he held ID cards up to. A scan was usually followed by a positive beep after the ID was confirmed indicated verification, with the card being handed back to it's owner. The agents moved through the interior of the bus, taking ID cards and scanning them, returning them once the positive beep was heard. Alina did likewise, taking her card back when the device beeped and the agents moved on.

Alina assumed the agent's checks would proceed without incident, but it proved untrue. Further back towards the end of the bus, a middle aged man handed his ID card to the agent, only to have the device respond with a noticably different tone. The agent scanned the card again but the tone was repeated. He tapped something on the device and seemed to read something. Alina was aware that the device brought up some basic things like date of birth and age, but was unsure what was being read from her vantage point. The middle aged man shifted in his seat, apparently uncertain as to why he hadn't simply been accepted at this point.

Finally, the agent looked up from the devince and addressed the man. "Care este scopul tău de a vizita Strana Mechty?"

The man frowned. "Mă întâlnesc cu prietenii."

"De unde vii?" The agent pressed.

The middle aged man shifted again in his seat and replied somewhat defensively. "Sunt vizita de la Tharkad. De ce nu a fost acceptat cardul meu? Am luat această cale de multe ori."

"Eu sunt cel care pune întrebările chiar acum." The agent replied harshly, making Alina widen her eyes. When did these guys get so rude?

A few more questions were passed between the man and the agent, before the the two agents glanced at each other, before addressing the man again. "Vino cu noi."

"De ce nu am făcut nimic -" The man protested, glancing nervously between the two agents.

"Nu-ți cer, îți spun. Dă-te jos din autobuz." The first agent replied coldly. Alina watched with concern as the man was grabbed by the collar and roughly stood up by the agent. After some initial protest he eventually submitted, holding up his hands to indicate resignation. The agent didn't loosen his grip on the man's collar and continued to hold on as he guided him off the bus, which Alina watched with wide eyes. She continued to track the fate of the man after he departed the vehicle and was taken by two more agents into the building that served as the main facility of the checkpoint. Even as the bus started back up and continued on it's journey towards Strana Mechty, Alina found herself watching the building as though hoping to see the man exit of his own accord safe and sound. The checkpoint slid out of view with no indication of the man's release, leaving Alina troubled as she settled back into her seat.

She admittedly didn't know why the man's ID card had not been accepted, but it didn't shake the feeling she had that the agents had been far harsher than necessary. Based on the reactions of her fellow passengers she was not alone in this sentiment, but in the end none of them had spoken up. As the skyline of Strana Mechty came into view, Alina found herself less excited to see the familiar sight as she originally had expected to be.

[Jedoria]

Kypsala,
Province of Malva, Jedoria

Detective Kirițescu's right hand slowly reached out and took hold of a small framed picture that had been resting on the night stand. It was unbalanced in his palm but steadied it enough to view the contents of the picture. A trio of smiling faces looked back from behind the glass frame, arms wrapped around each other, grins and eyes full of life and love. It was clear by the arrangement of the photo that the three persons were a family. Two older parents and their younger son, arms hooked together on a bright sunny day. Kirițescu's eyes took in every detail of the photo, from the cheerful face of the young man in the center to the older but kind eyes of the parents. With a faint fondness he recalled the last time he had met with his parents, just shortly before his father's passing. A weekend of recollection and family, sharing meals at the first glimpse of the rising sun and again as it sank beneath the horizon. Kirițescu let a small smile form on his lips. He remembered his father's kind words and advice, gently nudging the Internal Security agent towards the path of being a better man, and one day, a good father.

Kirițescu placed the picture frame back on the nightstand before turning around. Lifting one heavy boot, he stepped gingerly over the form that belonged to the young man in the picture. Nicu lay slumped against the bed frame, mouth slightly agape and body still. His normally electrically bright eyes were dull, in contrast to the vibrant red that poured out from the gaping wound in his slit-open throat. The owner of the apartment room lay where he fell, an unfired sidearm dropped at his side, opposite of the now-stained steel blade that had been the cause of his demise. Kirițescu absentmindedly ran his fingers over his jaw as his eyes swept over the deceased young man, recalling the surprising amount of power that had been behind Nicu's first swing. Had Nicu been a bit faster, or maybe a bit stronger, he might've triumphed over Kirițescu. But he wasn't, and he paid for it with a ruptured jugular.

Kirițescu exited the bedroom and made his way into the epicenter of the humble apartment room. It was a cozy little place, sparsely decorated but with a gentle warmth that was soon to fade following the demise of it's owner. Kirițescu's heavy boots sounded unnaturally loud on the wooden floor as he rejoined his comrades. The other three members of his team had finished their respective tasks of gathering evidence, photographing, and making sure that scene resembled what would go in the official report. Technically the objective of the raid had failed; Eugen Brâncoveanu had not been present in the apartment when the field agents had entered, but they now new his whereabouts. It was only a matter of time now.

---

Eugen Brâncoveanu walked with a calm gait down the sidewalk, hands full of groceries. Despite Nicu's protests Eugen had insisted he help out and be given the chance to leave the apartment. "If you make me stay cooped up, I'll surely go mad!" He had said. Nicu hadn't been fully satisfied, but in the end he caved to Eugen's insistence. A small smile emerged on his face as he thought of Nicu. Such a young, quietly courageous man. Eugen quietly hated that he was a burden on his comrade, but Nicu maintained he was more than happy to help. In some ways he even went so far as to say it was his duty, not just to the Party but as a friend. Eugen couldn't help but feel Nicu deserved more than just to play lookout and to creep around the town he called home, watchful eyes scanning the skies for helicopters while ears listened for the wail of sirens.

Eugen's steady pace meant he traveled the distance between the apartment and the grocery store with little time passing. Although he left his mind wander, his eyes did not, having grown somewhat complacent in the weeks he had spent in Kypsala. He failed to notice the pair of eyes watching him from the opposite side of the streets, nor the pair scoping down on him from the roof of another multi-story building. As concrete and brick buildings rose around him, Eugen proceeded further and further into the awaiting jaws of Internal Security. While he fumbled around her the keys to the complex in his pocket, the jaws snapped close.

Just as his fingers wrapped around the cool steel key ring, another sensation of cold steel was pressed against his skin, though this time on the back of his cranium rather than his fingertips. Eugen went still and his breath was caught in his throat. The beat of his heart seemed to rise in volume and frequency. The world seemed to come to a standstill just outside the apartment complex that had been his refuge for nearly a month now. No longer operating automatically, Eugen forced himself to exhale, his lips parting softly as he let his breath escape. He was unable to prevent the shiver that ran across his spine and the fully body shudder that followed. The cold steel dug further into the back of his head.

Footsteps that belonged to heavy boots soon could be heard, more than one pair, as Eugen was surrounded by armed agents, decked in their black and dark grey uniforms, weapons at the ready, some of them leveled on Eugen, as though the handgun currently threatening to blow his brains out the front of his skull was not enough. Eugen felt a bead of sweat form around his hairline, and he gulped. A slower, more methodical set of boots were approaching now, almost at leisure. Out of the corner of his eye, another form appeared, too far from his periphery to make out any details.

"Mister Eugen Brâncoveanu, I presume?" A voice asked, rather casually.

Eugen said nothing. He had been found; the gig was up. A torrent of thoughts appeared in his head, but only one stuck out in a clear enough form to be conveyed vocally. "Where's Nicu?" Eugen asked, trying to hide the unease in his trembling voice.

"He's still in the apartment." The voice replied. Eugen waited for further clarification, but received none. His belly turned to ice as the worst possible thoughts began forming, the fate of Nicu left unknown, spawning multiple theories, all more horrifying than the last. A quiet fury began forming in Eugen, a rage that had been kept silent thus far, anger at these fascists in uniform that bullied and intimidated. Not guardians of peace but enablers of violence, perpetrators of discrimination and instruments of malevolent unseen entities that betrayed the very principles they swore to protect.

"If you so much as-" Eugen began, but never finished. The cold steel on the back of his head was withdrawn, only to be replaced with a hot flash of pain as one of the agents slammed the butt-stock of his rifle into the captured communist. Eugen tensed up with the shock of the impact, then crumpled to the ground as the whole world went dark.

[Jedoria]

Somewhere Not Safe

The light was too bright. Far too bright to be coming from the single light source that hung idly in the center of the ceiling. Eugen could scarcely open his eyes, the flesh around was too swollen and his receptors were too weak to handle the overwhelming stimuli. He could barely perceive his surroundings, and only saw for the briefest of moments of the flash of a swinging fist before it collided with his face. By now his nose was already broken, and he simply rocked back and absorbed the now familiar pain with a low groan. His head dropped and his chin touched his chest as he sucked in oxygen and grimaced, which only further distorted his already bruised facial features. Scarcely enough time had passed for him to catch a breath before he was once more plunged face first into the tub of water. The ice cold liquid stung with an uncomfortable sensation, an abrupt change that forced Eugen to hold his breath after just a moment ago trying desperately to regain it.

For an unnatural amount of time, a hand on the back of his head kept him submerged. It wasn't until the first glimpses of darkness appeared on his vision and his lungs had begun to burn that he was suddenly hoisted back out of the water. His breath, desperate for escape from his body, exploded outward and his entire body shuddered with the once again sudden change in environment. Just as his lungs attempted to take in sweet oxygen, unforgiving fingers wrapped around his throat, a tightening grip that squeezed his airways, and was followed up by another swinging fist. The grip around his throat prevented the normal blow-back for his cranium, and his head shook uncomfortably in it's place. Another swing sent him reeling, blood spattering on the torso of the man to his right who's iron grip on Eugen's shoulders and head kept the communist from moving too much in his seat, as though the chains around his limbs and chest weren't enough.

The ordeal lasted for at least eight hours on the first day. Then 13 on the second. By the third day time stopped mattering; there was only periods of intense pain occasionally interrupted by too brief gaps of rest. Rest was relative in this case, amounting to little more than a cold concrete cell that was far too cold to be comfortable for a normal person. At this point however, any reprieve from his captors and tormentors, no matter how short or lackluster, was like a glimpse of heaven to Eugen. It would last for a usually inconsequential amount of time before he was hauled back to whatever room (it seemed to change every day) they made use of and subjected to whatever rounds of horror they felt like making use of. It seemed like more than a week had passed before they even said a word to him that wasn't some crude insult or threatening terms. When they finally did speak at greater extent, much of it was lost on Eugen as he recoiled from blow and blow, strike after strike, hour after hour of unspeakable pains. He lost weight rapidly, was force fed gruel that was stocked with nutrients but utterly devoid of taste. He defecated in a pale that was emptied out irregularly.

Finally they seemed to tire of their games. Chained to a table, Eugen was powerless to avoid being read the demands. In a harsh unforgiving tone he was told he would speak out against his comrades, reveal ties to terrorist groups that he had barely even heard of, and reveal he and his comrades sought to harm the people of the Confederation. It was all nonsense, and he told his captors in no short words that. They responded with renewed vigor, as though spurred on by his refusal, to unleash a new wave of hell. Sleep soon became his enemy as they blasted him with noise, or whispered quiet words into his ears that turned his slumber to nightmares. Life became hell whether he was awake or sleeping, and it was impossible to tell which was worse after the first few days of it's inception. It didn't take long for the cracks to show.

Eugen Brâncoveanu had always been a man of strong moral courage, of integrity and honesty. When he rose to the top of the Jedorian Communist Party, he had done so on the waves of unrelentless support from his comrades. He was not a fanatic, merely a firm believer, not a partisan, just dedicated. He was open, truthful, and spoke his mind without offending anyone. In all but his ideology, he was a model citizen. But Eugen had been tried like few men had. He was forced to climb a near impossible mountain, with such horrific dealings along the way that would've shattered the will of most men. He preserved as long as he could, continued to struggle up the mountainside even as stronger arms than his pulled him back down. When his spirit broke, it was a firm snap, and then it was all over.

Communist Party Leader Admits to Treason; Support of international terrorism

The Capital Report, Est. 1898

Internal Security Headquarters, Malva - Eugen Brâncoveanu, de facto leader of the Jedorian Communist Party, recently captured by the Department of Internal Security for 'crimes against the state', revealed earlier today of Communist attempts to undermine the Confederation and of existing ties to known terrorist organization. In a written confession that was released along with a video recording, Brâncoveanu admitted that the Communist Party undertook several covert operations intended to weaken the "security apparatuses of the Confederation" and "sow general discord and chaos among not only the Confederate Government, but the Jedorian people". Brâncoveanu, leader of the Communist Party for the last two and a half years, spoke slowly before the camera, reading off the confession that he had signed sometime earlier this week. (For the full confession and video, please visit our website at http://www.capitalreport.jed )

The Communist Party of Jedoria has for much of it's existence been largely a minor party in the Confederation, never having achieved any major electoral victories on either the national or even Provincial level. Estimates of party membership range from just 5,000-10,000. The Communist Party has historically struggled to gain much traction in either popular support or government recognition thanks to long standing cultural dislike of communist/Marxist ideology in Jedoria, however supporters of the party have been known for their loyalty to their cause. Reports indicate members were feeling optimistic regarding Brâncoveanu's ascension to party leader, and there appeared to be broad party wide support for his leadership.

However, in recent weeks the Communist Party has been the subject of considerable scrutiny, especially by the Department of Internal Security, Jedoria's national law enforcement service. Last month, several party chapter headquarters in Los Matar and Tharkad were raided by the Department and their members arrested for charges such as 'conspiracy' and 'subterfuge'. The raids prompted outcry among many of Jedoria's left wing, namely social democrats and liberals, as well as several Christian groups who have expressed concerns regarding recent actions taken by Internal Security. The passing of the Domestic Security Act last year has continued to be a point of contention for many of Jedoria's liberal groups, who fear the expansion of police powers have come at the cost of civil rights, especially for minorities, and their is general concern that the Department has begun a campaign of systematic intimidation against minority groups, starting with the Communist Party.

The Domestic Security Act was passed partially in response to several high profile terrorist attacks in both New Othman and Adiron, and was defended by the Department shortly after Brâncoveanu's confession, using his mentioned ties to international terrorist groups, such as Homofront, as justification for the continued existence of the act. Several high profile court cases against the DSA, and against Internal Security in general, have occurred as a result of recent actions by the Department, most infamously the crackdowns on several protests earlier this year. Criticism of the militarization of police and increasing occurrences of police brutality have continued to rise in intensity, even as court cases have seemingly hit a standstill as legal proceedings have bogged down judges and jurors alike.

There has been no official response from the Jedorian Government on the issue, who in recent months have faced near constant barrages of criticism, largely directed towards Duke Victor Răceanu. Recent polling by the Capital Report indicate that the Duke's approval ratings have fallen to just 13%, the lowest of any Duke/Duchess in nearly 60 years. Răceanu faces strong criticisms from both sides of the aisle, with liberal groups condemning his support of the Domestic Security Act and increased defense spending, while nationalists have reacted negatively to the poor foreign policy and security decisions made by the current administration.

Liberal groups have reacted to the confession of Brâncoveanu with skepticism, with Reverend Paul Vlaicu of the First Los Matar Imperial Church calling into question the veracity of the confession. The Reverend Vlaicu has become a vocal critic of recent actions by Internal Security, and has been identified as a leading member of the Christian-Liberal coalition that has formed in response to increasingly polarized nationalist policies in Jedoria.

Supreme Chief of Internal Security Pytor Olsogovic, in response to the confession, announced shortly afterwards that the Department of Internal Security would officially declare autonomous judgement protocol with regards to the Communist Party and it's assets, in order to ensure the safety and security of the Confederation. Early reports indicate there have been a series of mass arrests against Communist Party members and supporters, sparking outcry among other left wing groups.

In other news, tensions continue to ebb and flow around Gloria Regis.

[Jedoria]

First they came for the communists

The helicopter banked slowly southward, it's whirring blades spinning faster than most human eyes could fully detect. At it's normal altitude of 3,000 feet it provided a good bird's eye view of the ground below. In conjunction with several unmanned aerial vehicles also operating in the area at various altitudes, the group of sentinels in the sky provided the Department of Internal Security with a near total coverage of the area of operations, an essential component in classic containment protocol. On the ground below, field agents and their vehicles provided an additional layer of containment, ensuring nothing could get through without the Department being aware of it's existence. As the helicopter moved south, it slowly turned eastward, giving the camera equipment on the side of the helo an excellent view of the plumes of smoke that rose from below.

The Sykios Communist Party chapter headquarters burned away, orange and red flames rising from shattered windows and burned out gaps in the structure. Like a ravenous monster it chewed into the wooden and plaster foundation of the building, a simple office complex located a few hundred yards away from some small convenience stores. It's semi-isolated location allowed for it to burn without really harming any of the nearby facilities, a factoid the Department was silently proud of. Arrayed around the structure in a loose ring, field agents watched as the provincial center for communists and their ideology succumbed to the flames, that turned papers and files into ash that slowly blew away with the wind, while the oxygen of the open air fanned and fed the flames as they continued to burn.

The fire department could only sit behind the containment lines and watch, having been told by the field agents manning the road checkpoints that an active shooter threat made it unsafe for any emergency personnel to respond to the situation. The firefighters were restricted to their trucks behind the lines, forced to watch the building burn, taking note of the fact that no gunfire could be heart amid the wailing of sirens and the crumbling of construction materials under the weight of the flames. In the parking lot of the building, the former occupants of the party headquarters could only wait as they lay belly down on the asphalt, while police dogs barked and snarled, restrained only by the firm grips of their handlers. Field agents kicked and beat any who resisted, with some of the party members bearing wounds of bruises, busted lips and noses as evidence of the Department's actions and attitude.

Before the flames had died, unmarked black vans had appeared on the scene, let through the checkpoints where others had been stopped, rolling into the parking lot. With rough and unkind hands and grips, the party members were hoisted to their feet and forced into the vans, heads covered with cloths and fabrics that rendered them blind and oblivious to their surroundings. Once all forty three had been rounded up and secured behind the locked doors of the vans, the small covert convoy departed the area, speeding off to parts unknown, never to be seen again. Against the backdrop of these unwarranted arrests, the party headquarters continued to burn, until the structure collapsed on itself under the weight of it's weakened support beams. Only afterwards was the fire department finally allowed through, turning their hoses on the already dying flames. The building was no more, nor it's members.

Across the entirety of the Confederation, where ever concentrations of Communist Party members could be found, whether in similar privately owned buildings or in rented office space and corner stores, raids were conducted without warning. Field agents swarmed in with batons and rifle butts swinging, documents and files seized, handcuffs and similar restraints employed on sight. Resistance was met with brutality and violence, bruised and broken bodies were soon commonplace, tossed into unmarked vehicles that would prove untraceable by any concerned eye witnesses. Bystanders shocked by what they were seeing were shoved aside and told to move on, and that matters of state security were being handled. Interference of any kind would not be tolerated.

Unrestricted by the normal criminal and legal proceedings, courtesy of the official autonomous judgement protocol, the Communist Party of Jedoria was thoroughly dismantled by the Department of Internal security. Their assets were seized or destroyed, their membership arrested, and functions ceasing. Over the course of the next few days, several hundred associates to the party fled Jedoria in haste, fleeing to safer havens in more friendly places like Adiron, Wielkilas, or the Alammunnic States. It was clear Jedoria was no longer safe for their kind.

In his private quarters, Reverend Paul Vlaicu watched the scenes unfold on his television, an expression of sadness on his face as he watched his fellow countrymen and women abandoned by their government and abused by the very people they were supposed to entrust their safety and security to. Before turning in for the night, he slowly shook his head and turned off his set. Something had to be done, or others would surely suffer a similar fate.

[Jedoria]

Rally Cry

It amazed Paul Vlaicu what a little hard work could still accomplish these days. He had spent the better part of the previous two weeks working his way between various contacts and associates. Many of them he had little in common with; some were socialists, Gaia Worshipers, atheists, liberals, conservatives, Magi, and of course, his fellow Christians. Late night phone calls and emails exchanged with varied frequency had become the norm for his communication, the sole exception being on Sunday's when he spoke to his flock. Despite his age, his voice resonated with a seemingly incensed fervor, urged on by recent events and by the surprisingly warm reception he had received from his hopeful friends. During the week he had met with the local Predicant of the Los Matar Temple of Gaia, discussing recent events, mainly concerning the plight of the Communists in their shared homeland.

Like Vlaicu, Predicant Teodorescu was an older man, having served as Predicant for the Temple of Gaia for nearly thirty years, a dedicated man of faith. It was a reverence Vlaicu could admire even if he didn't share the same religion. While they ate a simple meal at a local diner they spoke at great lengths. Despite their different theological persuasions, they came to agree that what was happening in their shared homeland was unacceptable. The persecution of the communists, they agreed, was merely the first step in what was surely a larger campaign to rid Jedoria of the nedorit. Eventually that would come to encompass Vlaicu, and all his fellow worshipers of Christ. It was a simple matter of divide and conquer; first the communists, then the Magi and conservatives, then the socialists, and finally the Christians, starting with the kinds found in New Edom but eventually applying to all denominations.

Such discussion might've bordered on conspiracy theory level had recent events not unfolded as they had. The fate of Eugen Brâncoveanu haunted Vlaicu. He had conversed with the man only sparsely and just for a few brief moments before the communist had been captured. There was no doubt in Vlaicu's mind that the poor man had been tortured, forced to confess to crimes he hadn't committed. When the news story broke, Vlaicu had without hesitation publicly expressed his skepticism. To the surprise of the humble Christian preacher, he had become something of a minor celebrity in the Confederation, at the very least the unofficial face of Jedoria's Christian minority. This led to interviews, emails and calls from the media, even requests to appear on television. Vlaicu realized this in many ways made him a target, but dismissed his fears quietly. The Lord was his shepherd, and so long as he stayed in His light, he would not be left astray.

As it turns out though, arguably some of the best support he had received had come not from other religious or political leaders, but from the music industry.

Vlaicu was only marginally familiar with modern music and bands, and knew of the Message Men soley because their popularity in Jedoria ensured their music was always on the radio. Vlaicu was thoroughly surprised when he received a request for a meeting between himself and the musical duo. Vlaicu was forced to admit his preconceived notions of modern day musicians being a bunch of over-hyped, drug using and sexually loose individuals was highly inaccurate, at least for the two young men who quietly but kindly shook his hands and sat down with him for lunch. Neither drummer Antonie Drăgoi or singer Felix Minovici fit the bill for famous music stars. Antonie was quiet and Felix seemed perpetually nervous, but they both offered friendly smiles and bright eyes. Both young men were of the same faith as Vlaicu, which he took comfort in. As it turned the songs the band produced often times contained theological messages and allusions to God, though they weren't considered a Christian band.

Vlaicu sat down with the two and discussed at length his concerns regarding what was occurring in their homeland. The persecution of the Communists, he explained, seemed to be an indication of some greater effort being undertaken by Internal Security. After all, what threat did the communists pose? They were a minor political party with hardly any influence of note, only a handful of members and already disliked by many Jedorians. The idea that they would cooperate with known terrorists seemed ridiculous. Both band members turned out to be highly receptive to Vlaicu's concerns, he learned to his delight. They expressed a similar concern; despite being famous musicians and adored by Jedorians of all stripes and walks of life, what they saw unfolding was deeply disturbing. Both young men promised to help the Reverend bring attention to his cause. By the time Vlaicu concluded their meeting, the two had already taken to social media to inform their legions of fans of their desire to stand side by side with Vlaicu, and bring attention to to the oppression of Jedoria's minorities. Speaking from personal experience, both Felix and Antonie made mention of the bullying they had received growing up, picked on by other children for their faith. While that had faded away with time and their rise in popularity, it didn't disolve the memories.

And so in Los Matar, just a few days after the purging of the communists, the Reverand Paul Vlaicu stood alongside the band members of the Message Men, along with other prominent members of the Jedorian left wing. The small stadium they had rented in Los Matar's Ivan Park had rapidly expanded beyond it's original capacity. Vlaicu was shocked at the outpouring of support. He would've considered just 10,000 attendees a success, but as he walked on stage he could see the vast expanse of humanity before him numbered over 100,000. Slowly the Christian preacher made his way to the microphone. His prosthetic left leg thumped on the wooden deck as he finally came to a stop behind the podium. He tapped the microphone once before speaking, his normally calm but passionate voice amplified a thousand times.

"Friends, brothers and sisters, fellow citizens. It touches me heart to see so many faces here, so many of my fellow countrymen and women willing to stand up for the causes of human dignity and freedom."

"We stand now at the precipice. A great nation threatens to tumble into a sea of oppression and despair, the likes of which our Confederation has avoided for so many years. In short, my dearest friends, we are at grave risk of abandoning the principles that this nation was founded on. Earlier this week, our communist brethren were violently and suddenly disbanded, assaulted by the very law enforcement that swears to defend the Jedorian people and uphold the sovereign rights of every citizen."

"Even as I speak these words, hidden machinations, malevolent in their intentions, conspire and move against the fundamental civil rights that our constitution guarantees. They do so in violation of our founding principles, under the guise of 'security and safety'. I fear no one but the Lord, but I cannot hide my concern for the actions undertaken by the Department of Internal Security. I have long entrusted the safety of not only myself, but my fellow Jedorians, to their capabilities. That they have acted so blatantly against their own citizens, even under the notion of 'anti-terrorism' and 'state security', troubles my heart."

"I stand before you all, not as a Christian, a Jedorian, but merely a human being, in this fellowship of man, and I ask you one thing; to stand up. To not let your brothers and sisters suffer under the persecution of those whom would undermine the innate human rights of every Jedorian."

Vlaicu was used to standing before small crowds of a hundred or so, but that in no way prepared him for the outbreak of cheers and applause he received from the hundred-thousand strong crowd. Someone started up a chant, and soon it spread, until it was less of a chant and more of a roar.

"Libertate, egalitate, fraternitate!"

"Libertate, egalitate, fraternitate!"

"Libertate, egalitate, fraternitate!"

Thousands of Gaia Worshippers, Christians, Magi, liberals, moderates, socialists, and communists raised their fists. Vlaicu could only watch in awe.

[Jedoria]

Lists (2)

one standing army

five field armies

ten corps

thirty active divisions

seven hundred thousand active duty personnel

five thousand four hundred and fifty two main battle tanks

seven thousand three hundred and thirty six artillery pieces

one thousand and sixty six attack helicopters

seven hundred and eighty eight fighter aircraft

forty four strategic bombers

three aircraft carriers

three amphibious assault craft

eight transport docks

twelve cruisers

forty four frigates

twenty eight destroyers

thirty nine corvettes

seven nuclear attack submarines

thirty five diesel-electric submarines

two cruise missile submarines

one arsenal ship

one hundred and ten million, two hundred thousand, five hundred and seventy one citizens

[Jedoria]

Conference Room,
The Duke's Hearth, Strana Mechty

"Just what on earth do you think you're doing?!"

Victor Răceanu, Duke of the Jedorian Confederation, was the sole occupant of the room standing. The rest of his cabinet were seated around the conference table, a sturdy wooden construction with a glass top finish that reflected the overhead lights nicely. The highest ranking members of the Jedorian government watched their Duke level his gaze at the Supreme Chief of Internal Security, Pyotr Olsogovic. Olsogovic, an older man with whitening hair, gray mustache and pouchy face, merely returned the gaze. "I beg your pardon sir?" He said with an overly casual tone.

"Don't fucking try me Olsogovic, you know what I'm talking about." Răceanu hissed. "The fuck is this shit? You rounded up all the commies and burned their homes? The fuck are you trying to pull?!"

Olsogovic shifted in his seat, casting a glance at the Minister of Internal Affairs (and his boss), Minister Otilia Țurcanu, before returning to focus on the Duke. "Sir, I issued orders in keeping with standard protocol. We learned the communists were a front for the spreading of terrorism and destabilizing efforts that if left unchecked, could-"

"Are you for real?!" Răceanu bellowed out. "When the fuck did the Communists start talking with terrorists? Why did we just learn this now?"

"It was the result of a series of investigations and fact finding that-"

"Will you cut it with the BULLSHIT?" Răceanu yelled. "I'm fucking sick of it! IF you were going to fucking purge the damn commies from here, why didn't you just do it? Do you have any idea how fucked up this all looks?"

"Sir," interjected Otilia Țurcanu, "An abrupt seizure of Communist Party assests and mass arrests would surely have come across as rather shocking anyway."

Răceanu glared at the women before settling on her. "What the fuck is with these witch hunts anyway? Who's next, the Magi? The Christians? The socialists? Anyone who doesn't three finger salute your fucking nationalist ass?"

"If there are credible threats to the safety and security to the Confederation and our people, it is the duty of this government to respond to such threats." Minister of Culture Rusu pointed out.

"What fucking threats?" Răceanu bellowed. "You've been talking so much shit about how 'terrorism is a major problem', and your response is to turn us into a god damn police state?"

"If you have issues with our methods sir, I would point to the effectiveness of preventing any major terrorist attack on Jedorian soil as-" Țurcanu began.

"Why don't you take your methods and show them to that Reverand and his groupies?!" Răceanu lashed out. "You all saw the news! The fucking Christ Worshiper has got a million followers! You can't seriously think that you can just run your fucking purge machine, stick all the undesirables in camps, and assume everyone in Jedoria will be okay with it. Hell, the fucking region would lose it's collective-"

"The fuck has the region done?" Rusu shot back suddenly, enough that it caught the Duke off guard. "When have they ever operated in conjunction with our interests? None of them are doing anything about New Othman, none of them did the right thing in Ashab, and they all cowered before the Imperium."

"Maybe you're stuck on your own little world Rusu," Răceanu fired back. "But you can't just ignore all our neighbors. They're opinions actually matter."

"To some of us, maybe." Rusu said shortly. The rest of the cabinet members exchanged glances. Răceanu looked like he was ready to separate Rusu's jaw from the rest of his head.

"I know you're busy patting yourself on the back for the Domestic Security Act Rusu," Răceanu finally said after clenching hiw jaw. "But in case you fucking forgot, there's a whole shit storm brewing about it."

"And what, we're going to bow down to the whims of a bunch of infidels and socialists now?" Rusu retorted. "What matters first, our security, or what a bunch of liberal cowards and Christians think?"

Before Răceanu could reply, Party Whip Alexe Stănculescu spoke up. "Sir, revocation of the DSA could have profound effects on our party image. With elections approaching, we can ill afford-"

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" Răceanu screamed at the top of his lungs, bringing his fist down with such force the glass table top shattered upon impact. Long streaking cracks exploded outward across the expanse of the table from the epicenter where the Duke's fist met the table. The entire table bucked and startled several cabinet members, who backed up and looked in surprise at their Duke.

Răceanu's frame shuddered with a labored breath as he held his form for a moment, before retracting his fist from the shattered glass. He ignored the blood that began to trickle from his knuckles. He rested his eyes on every member of his cabinet. He leveled himself and exhaled, before finally speaking again.

"This shit has gone too far." He said, voice hoarse. "If we're going to start lynching our own people because they don't think like us, we don't deserve to lead."

The room was quiet the sound of blood dripping from the Duke's hand and landing on the floor could be heard. Rusu and Olsogovic exchanged looks, as did Țurcanu and Field Marshall Cernea. Foreign Minister Andrei Paler and Minister of Regional Development Sebastian Caragiale simply stared.

The Government of the Jedorian Confederation wasn't long for this earth in it's present form.

[Jedoria]

See me bare my teeth for you

Field Marshall Biana Cernea slid her hand atop her head to keep her field cap firmly in place as she stepped off the transport helicopter that had ferried her to the western coast of Jedoria. The humidity of the approaching summer, combined with the nearby body of water, soon washed over her, but she paid it little heed. Expecting this, she had rolled up her sleeves prior to departure and was grateful for the small relief from the otherwise overwhelming heat. While the blades of the helicopter began to slowly decrease in speed, the highest ranking officer in the Confederation made her way towards the awaiting group of personnel further away.

Colonel Hasdeu was an impressive officer in his own rank, a full bird colonel and in normally in charge of operations here, but even he was completely outranked by the woman who approached him. Like the others around him (a collection of other officers, senior enlisted, and some juniors), he threw up a salute firmly when the Field Marshall was in range, which Cernea replied in kind. "Good morning ma'am." He said once she was in ear shot and the dull roar of the whirring helicopter blades had died down. "Welcome to Oscar 11."

During the Vozgarnor War, the Confederation had tried on several occasions to mount a strategic bombing campaign with the intention to eliminate the Vozgarni capability to resist future Jedorian offensives. Sites of industrial, military, and political significance were all targeted, but despite multiple attempts all ended either in failure or were inconclusive. After the war, an internal report by Central Command confirmed that despite their best efforts, Jedoria did not have the capability to launch strategic strikes to inhibit enemy production and transportation centers, despite the maintenance of several dozen strategic bombers. 'The bomber will always get through' turned out to be a false expression.

Furthermore, once hostilities with Vozgarnor were clearly established, Jedoria found it's strategic situation further weakened. Now it shared borders with two typically hostile nations, New Edom and Vozgarnor. Concerns over the possibility of a two front threat spurred further development and modernization, and the recent conclusion of an official military pact between the two cemented Confederate concerns. One on one, Jedoria could handle either, but even with Noviteran assistance, the prospect of a war on two fronts was deemed too dangerous to ignore. Jedoria was a growing state in both population and economy, but it was not invincible.

It was determined, in part by then Colonel General Cernea, that in order to help mitigate the potential danger of a two front conflict, it was necessary for the Confederation to be able to strike quickly and effectively at strategic targets; airfields, industrial centers, military installations, ports, naval bases, transportation hubs, and suspected command and control centers, if necessary to include political targets like government institutions. To facilitate this, the Confederation had spent the previous three years expanding heavily on it's arsenal of ballistic and cruise missiles, along with launch platforms ranging from aircraft, mobile launch systems, and missile silos. Oscar 11 was one of the latter; hidden away from prying eyes in a facility located only on a handful of government maps and guarded 24/7 was a series of ground silos containing several tactical and long range ballistic missiles. These conventionally armed warheads had a number of pre-designated targets assigned to the facilities targeting computer. Nearly all of them were naval bases and airfields in northern and eastern New Edom. In the event Jedoria found itself attacked by both the Republic and the Allied States, multiple strikes were to be conducted at selected targets to inhibit mobilization and deployment of enemy forces against Jedoria, giving the Confederation time to bring it's numerically superior forces and larger industrial base to bear. Mobile systems could later be deployed in support of future Confederate operations, whether on the strategic or operational levels.

The existence of these facilities, their arsenals, capabilities and dispositions were all closely guarded state secrets that operated on a need to know basis. While it was near impossible to hide that Jedoria had been researching and acquiring such weapons, the finer details were intended to remain known only to the Confederation.

The Confederation also knew it was not alone in ownership of such weapons. Faced with possible retribution, development of anti-ballistic missile defenses had been given high priority. The result was the Calliope mobile SAM System. While it was originally designed simply to shoot down enemy aircraft, the Calliope was eventually restructured to function as strategic multi-purpose system, destroying not only medium range targets, but also long range aircraft, cruise missiles, and ballistic missiles. A network of overlapping Calliope SAM systems now defended the Confederation's airspace, along with a border defense along New Edom and Vozgarnor. Not far from Oscar 11 was a camouflaged system that had just recently been emplaced, coordinating with another hidden early warning radar station.

Colonel Hasdeu led the Field Marshall down into the subterranean complex that served as the primary housing facility not only for the missiles but their supporting hardware and equipment was well; communication equipment, targeting sensor, sensors and gauges making sure the entire system was operating within normal parameters. Hasdeu himself had been assigned to the facility since the start of the year. The staff here were all members of the Strategic Defense Forces, another branch under the Ministry of Defense responsible for managing the strategic assets of the Confederation; it's long range missiles, coastal and air defense networks, nuclear submarines and strategic bombers.

The underground complex was largely devoid of noise save for the soft humming of computers and the tapping of boots on tiled floor. Cernea was here largely just to get a first person view of the facility she had heard about before but never seen with her own eyes. Hasdeu did nearly all of the talking, describing the various aspects of the complex, the typical schedule, how operations were conducted. Cernea knew from his file that the Colonel was originally an Air Force officer that had been loaned to the Strategic Forces before being adopted entirely. As a Colonel, he was responsible for not only Oscar 11 but other sites across this region of Jedoria. While it was in truth an interesting topic, the Field Marshall found herself distracted by other things on her mind.

Damocles was still in effect, though the exact time and place was still in the works as the situation developed. Cernea was still on board, a bit more comfortable knowing the chances of success were now higher. The only real obstacle she had feared, Prodan, was now in New Othman and out of the picture for all intents and purposes. Internal Security was firmly cooperating, ensuring that the changeover would be done with the assistance of law enforcement across the Confederation. All that really mattered of course was Strana Mechty, and with the Department and armed forces under their control, victory seemed inevitable.

Nevertheless, the potentially instability couldn't simply be ignored, which is why the Field Marshall was here to ensure Jedoria's primary defenses were fully capable of defending the homeland in case the infidels attempted to take advantage of Jedoria during it's transition. While Hasdue continued to drone on, Cernea simply nodded along. All in good time.

[Jedoria]

Paul Vlaicu's rally had certainly had it's consequences. Internal Security's campaign was now subject to public scrutiny, and despite the Department quickly flooding all forms of mass media with assurances that they were acting in accordance with the law and had the best interest of the Confederation at heart, the Reverends defiance had indeed thrown a wrench into their plans. Unfortunately, it was not enough to save the Magi. They were too isolated, too different, even with the grass roots campaign in the works, the Department moved too quickly.

The largest Magi temple in Jedoria burned down one night, the fire department powerless to stop a blaze that was surprisingly strong and well fed. The next day the temple's leadership was arrested and evidence presented to reveal it was a case of arson; the owners had burned the building to collect the insurance money. No questions from curious or skeptical reporters were answered and the suspects disappeared behind locked cell doors. Like the communists they were small in number, kept to themselves, enough that they could be easily targeted with little notice by the general population as long as enough black ink was spread. For the more higher profile cases, character assassinations were common, allegations of fraud, tax evasion, even treason levied against more publicly known individuals of the Magi faith.

Within a few days Vlaicu would note with sorrow his fellow brethern of the Magi faith had largely disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth. Those that remained either went into hiding or fled. Mainstream media sources were subject to manipulation by Internal Security to ensure that most Jedorians remained unaware of the exact details. They would eat their dinners and listen and see only what the Department wanted them to hear, which was that brave 'counter terrorism' and 'peace keeping' efforts had been successful. Charts and graphs were showcased that claimed a number of suspected terror plots had been foiled thanks to the brave men and women in uniform.

Fortunately for Vlaicu's cause, many of his liberal allies were left wing associates who often made use of their own news sources and reports, their normally annoying attitude towards 'lamestream media' actually coming in handy for once. Anton Zamfir, a prominent student activist and self described reporter (who admittedly had published several well known articles on the internet), was one of the prominent leaders of the so-called "Left Wing Coalition", a collection of liberals, social democrats, socialists and other left leaning groups and causes common on college campuses and similar areas in Jedoria. For the Vlaicu, they were allies of opportunity, united in a common distrust of the Department of Internal Security, and what they saw as an increasingly dangerous and authoritarian government.

Zamfir made no bones about his views about what was going on. "It's pure fucking fanatical fascism, plain and simple," he said while sipping ramen noodles and pointed at the Reverend as they sat in the young man's dorm room. Scattered articles of clothing and discarded coffee cups hinted at a lifestyle that was rather hectic but somehow lethargic at the same time, but Vlaicu had learned by this point in time to not judge a book by it's cover. Indeed as he talked with Zamfir, he could see the fire in the young man's voice and soul, a strong sense of morality, perhaps tinted with a liberal bias but still vibrant. "First they'll take out all the undesirables, the ones no one likes; the communists, the Edenists, the Marxists, anarchists. Then the Magi, the socialists, then...well, then you and me." He finished this with a jab to both himself and Vlaicu.

The Christian preacher nodded in agreement. "If we stand idle, we only invite such actions upon ourselves." Vlaicu had in the past few weeks gained quite a deal of attention, first from his statements, then his rallies, and now his travels were apparently being reported on from beyond the borders of his homeland. While some of his supporters feared this would make him a target, it in fact acted as a shield. Taking out such a prominent figure would be inherently suspicious, perhaps too much even for Internal Security's normal cover ups. Though Vlaicu didn't know it as he made his was back to his vehicle after wishing farewell to Zamfir, swinging his prosthetic leg over the frame of his car, the Department had already concluded that a more sound strategy was to eliminate the foundations of the Reverend's power base.

True to his promise, Anton Zamfir wasted little time in rallying his own supporters. Over the course of the next week, flyers were handed out around his campus and the nearby city of Sykios regarding a rally for the purpose of "highlighting the dangers of apathy and non-action". It proved more effective than initially anticipated, nearly 28,000 people turned out to basically listen to a college student rant about the police. Truth be told though, Zamfir was in fact a capable orator, and over the course of an hour he spoke to the crown, warning his fellow citizens that what they were hearing about Internal Security and their campaigns against suspected dissidents were only the beginning of a very dark chapter.

"What we're seeing is only the beginning." Anton said, voice amplified a hundred times by the megaphone he was holding. "They started with the communists, knowing no one would really stop them. No on in this is region is going to complain that commies are being abused and persecuted. Plenty of people will even praise Internal Security for what they're doing. Some of our brothers and sisters, in fact."

"But it's not going to stop there. You've all seen the news. The biggest Magi temple in all of Jedoria burns down, and they arrest the owners and charge them with arson. When was the last time you spoke with your Magi friends?" He asked, as murmurs rippled through the crowd."Now it's them. Tomorrow it'll be the anarchists. Then the socialists. Next week they'll start knocking on the doors of every Edomite Apostolic Church across Jedoria. AFter they're out of the picture, it's every Christian. Doesn't matter what denomination, what practice, it's going to be open season."

Zamfir lifted his finger off the speaker for a moment, partially for dramatic effect, but in truth he also realized the extent of what could happen. "Then it'll be us."

"It'll be us. Anyone who doesn't snap to attention and start walking the line. Everyone who doesn't toss up their three finger salute. They won't stop with the minorities. They'll keep going and going until anyone who isn't a nationalist is either in prison, or dead."

Zamfir watched the crowd react, cheers, jeers, defiant left fists raised into the air. He swallowed; the more he spoke the more real the whole thing seemed to become. He wasn't just liking posts and sharing articles on social media anymore. This was his homeland he was talking about. His fingers wrapped more strongly around the grip of the megaphone.

"But we're not going to let that happen." He said. "We're not going to just stand by while our brothers and sisters are arrested by the thousands and tossed away from the public eye. We're not going to let fear and paranoia rule this country. Our Confederation was founded on principles, ones that hold we're all equal in the eyes of the law and the Constitution. If we abandon them now, just for the sake of 'security', we've abandoned what made this country our homeland."

Left wing activists warn of future purges

The Capital Report, Est. 1898

SYKIOS UNIVERSITY - Anton Zamfir, student activist and recognizable member of the Left Wing Coalition, warned followers outside the University of Sykios that the recent crackdowns on the Jedorian Communist Party are only the beginning of a long campaign of oppression and persecution. In his speech, Zamfir stated that nationalist elements in control of the Department of Internal Security and other Government offices would soon turn their attention on other minorities, including socialists, social democrats, liberals, and Christians, before eventually removing anyone who doesn't subscribe to the Ultranationlist ideology.

Zamfir, a noted and prominent left wing spokesperson, has long accused the Department of Internal Security of militarization and police brutality. Following the passage of the Domestic Security Act over a year ago, Zamfir published a series of scathing articles that declared the DSA a "blatant and appalling breach of civil liberties and clear cut evidence of the increasingly nationalistic and authoritarian regime currently in power in Jedoria." While Zamfir's rhetoric against the Duke has softened in previous months, the student activist maintains that the Domestic Security Act must be repealed, as it "gives far too much power to corrupt cops and malevolent government forces."

Zamfir's rally repeatedly stressed that the Communists, and most recently the Magi, were merely the first steps in a much larger campaign of elimination the Department of Internal Security is waging, with the intent of eventually wiping Jedoria clean of minorities and non-nationalist groups. Zamfir's speech has struck a chord with other liberal groups that have begun to express serious concern and outcry over recent actions undertaken by the Department of Internal Security. A rally organized by the Reverend Paul Vlaicu in Los Matar earlier this month has started what seems to be a growing movement among Jedoria's left wing to oppose the increasingly nationalistic efforts being undertaken by the Jedorian Government.

Supreme Chief of Internal Security Pytor Olsogovic, however, disputed the claims of Zamfir and dismissed concerns that the Department was overstepping it's limits. "While I respect the good Reverend as a religious leader and a war hero, I must admit I am appalled by the accusations leveled against the fine men and women in uniform. The Department of Internal Security is a law enforcement agency founded on the principals of equality and fairness. These recent actions against the Communist Party and recent arrest of Magi leaders have only occurred due to evidence being uncovered that suggested certain elements within these groups were conducting covert actions against the Confederation with the intention of undermining the safety of the Jedorian people."

The Supreme Chief went on to remind readers that recent terrorist attacks in New Edom and New Othman were proof of the very real threat of terrorism in the region. "Valiant heroes in Bluebrook, Fineberg, and New Ankara have laid down their lives to prevent their people from falling to the evils of international terrorism. I understand there is concern among the populace, but rest assured, the Department of Internal Security will not rest until those that threaten the well being of the Confederation are found."

There has been no official statement from the Duke, however Minister of Internal Affairs Otilia Țurcanu, who's ministry oversees the Department, assured reporters that her personnel would investigate any potential cases of police brutality and corruption.

[Jedoria]

The dark's not taking prisoners tonight

The dead of night only marginally silenced the city of Eitria, one of the Confederation's major population centers. While normally overshadowed by Tharkad to the north, Eitria did have it's own it's own impressive economic productivity and population centers. Eitria itself was a fairly large city; it was spread out over a greater distance in square kilometers than most Jedorian cities, with the downtown district covering nearly fifteen kilometers while the surrounding suburbs spread out in every direction. It was a bustling, expansive city, one that provided plenty of hiding spaces for Denisa Poénaru.

Behind a strip mall she sat among neatly trimmed bushes, hair and clothes wet with perspiration and breath ragged. The cool night air did little to comfort her as she winced at the distant sound of a siren, a chilling reminder that she was still being hunted. Evasion wasn't easy when you were outnumbered and outclassed, and it was seemingly only through Gaia's blessing that Denisa had managed to avoid capture by Internal Security. She glanced at her left palm and ignored the red stain that had permeated through the wrapped gauze. She didn't handle the glass well. She hadn't handled a lot well; maybe if she had been a little faster, a little smarter, she might've gotten out without anyone noticing. Instead she had nearly fucked the whole thing up. Her right hand lifted slowly to reveal curled fingers around a single USB stick, the whole reason for her current predicament. Even as she tried to catch her breath and gather herself, she couldn't help a small smile at her success.

Internal Security had done all it could to prevent the investigative journalist from finding out what she wanted to know, short of killing her. She realized with a small chill though that if they hadn't had a reason before to off her, they did now. But Denisa didn't intend to be caught. Not after she had came this far, risked so much. Soon it wouldn't matter though; once she got this information out to the world it wouldn't matter what they did to her; the damage would be done. Now the task was to get it to people who could actually do the last part; disseminate it in ways that allowed the people of not just Jedoria, but the world, know what was really going through. It seemed to be a monumental task, but Denisa hadn't gotten to this part in her life without getting to know some people and forming some connections.

Once she was confident she had eluded her pursuers, Denisa rose from her seated position and began to make her way back to her 'hideout'. It was nearly midnight, and while cities this large never really slept, it was noticeably quieter out. Lamp posts provided the few sources of light, lonely halos across sidewalks and empty streets. Denisa was largely alone as she made her way across the city on foot, glancing around occasionally to see if she was being followed. She was rather alone, only once did she pass by other humans, in this case two young men who were so busy laughing at each others inside jokes that they barely paid Denisa any heed besides moving out of her way while they roared with laughter. That was perfectly fine for the young women, who folded her hands into her red jacket and did her best not to look suspicious. A single sedan drove by her at one point, but paid her no heed, and after that it was a largely non-descriptive trip back to the industrial part of the city.

Eitria, like many large Jedorian cities, had large sectors devoted mostly to factories and warehouses, courtesy of the country's pervasive industrialization. Most of these were filled with machinery, supplies, and products, but a few were occasionally unused, either the company they belonged to had moved on or simply didn't need them. Eitria's industrial sector was a quiet place, guarded mostly by private security firms to make sure marauding teens didn't break in and do any damage. Denisa had been through these parts enough times to know where to go and what paths to avoid. In alleyways between large, elongated metal and brick structures she walked alone, glad to be back in familiar territory. Crawling under a disregarded section of fence, she made her way along an asphalt opening into one of the unused buildings. When she was a teen, her gang of friends had made use of locations like these for gatherings, where they would rant and rail against their parents, teachers, and similar authority figures, until they eventually accepted their place as cogs in the machine and fell into line. That was back when they could eventually trust the people on top, back when there was trust and mutual understanding. Times had changed, as did Denisa.

A small aclove had been furnished using discarded items like sofas, chairs, even a small TV. Denisa plopped down on the old couch with an audible sigh of relief. It had been a solid few months since her last visit. Someone else must've been keeping the place in check during the time being however, as it was better kept than she expected. Must've been Paul or Anton, she figured. Taking just a moment to rest, she rose to her feet once more to retrieve the phone that was kept here. It was an older model that was woefully out of date in places like Adiron or Novitera, and even here was showing signs of age. It was still reliable though, and unlike some of the newer models had never been integrated into the call centers that allowed Internal Security to trace phones so easily. She wasn't sure if her phone was actually being tracked, but she wasn't going to risk it either way.

She knew only a handful of people she could trust with this information, but one of them she also knew could help her spread it like wildfire. Thumbing the keypad of the phone, she tapped in a series of numbers that corresponded to a long time friend turned student activist. She held the phone up to the side of her face and waited for the first ring to go through. Almost as an afterthought, she realized calling him in the middle of the night on a weekday was probably not going to give her the best chance of communicating with him.

Gaia seemed to smile on her however, for after just three rings the phone indicated the call had gone through. A moment passed before a groggy male voice answered on the other line. "Hello?"

"Anton, it's Denisa." Denisa said, a part of her happy to hear the familiar sound of her long time friend's voice.

"D-Denisa?" Anton Zamfir answered. "What-what are- Denisa, it's like, one o clock in the morning..."

"I know Anton, but this is serious. I saw you on the news the other day."

"The news? Oh, you mean the rally?"

"Yeah, that. Listen, I can't talk for long, but I have something, something big. It's about Internal Security and what they've been doing behind the scenes." Denisa said, a bit of excitement creeping into her voice. She could practically feel Anton grow more attentive.

"Really? What did you find?" He asked. "How did you find out?"

"I can't say right now." Denisa, subconsciously glancing around her empty alcove. "But trust me, it's big. And let's just say I could get in a lot of trouble for this."

"We all could if the pigs have their way." Anton replied. "Are you still in Eitria?"

"Not for long." Denisa answered. "First thing tomorrow I'm going to head for Sykios. You still friends with Decebal?"

"Decebal? Yeah, why?"

"Trust me, we're going to need his help."

[Jedoria]

Minister of Culture stresses need for family duty in these trying times

STRANA MECHTY - Minister of Culture Haralamb Rusu stressed in a press conference earlier today the need for family unity in what the Minister described as "trying times for the sanctity of the family unit." Rusu, who has served as a member of the Duke's cabinet since 2012, spoke highly of the family as the "building block of civilization" and the need for the Jedorian populace to continue to embrace their loved ones as the "most important natural resource this country has to offer."

"It's quite clear the world we live in is full of uncertainties and confusion. There are concerns at every corner, disputes and disagreements that range from mild to potentially severe. Such things have been constant throughout all of human history. But despite such unknowns and potential hazards, the family has persevered not only as the most fundamental aspect of all society, but the stepping stone from which great nations are founded on. The Jedorian people know this better than anyone, and so it is of fundamental importance that these days our families stick together; that siblings and parents remained unified in the face uncertainty and change."

The Minister of Culture went on to state he intended to pour more resources into family development, especially to provide further care and attention for young couples, and to provide better help and support for teen parents, while stressing the need for proper family planning and education. Rusu, father of two daughters, spoke at length for the need of the family to sustain the development of any society and nation, and pointed out that proper families continued to raise more well rounded and adjusted children. "Whether they are normal, homosexual, the point is two parents are better than one. That being said, single parents must not be forgotten, nor should the sacrifices they make be overlooked. Anyone who raises a child properly is deserved of our respect and admiration."

[Jedoria]

Duke declares first Christian church established on Jedorian soil as national landmark

STRANA MECHTY - Victor Răceanu, Duke of the Jedorian Confederation, announced earlier today that the first Christian church established on Jedorian soil, Saint Peter's Sanctuary in the province of Makos, first established by Cornellian missionaries well over 500 years ago, would be recognized as a historical national landmark, and be officially added to the list of preserved historical locations in the Confederation.

The "National Historical Landmark" association is a government operated organization responsible for the preservation of various Jedorian relics and ruins, and confirmed shortly after the Duke's announcement that they will be sending several personnel to the Sanctuary to meet with church leaders and discuss possible renovation and refurbishment plans for the aging structure. As a nationally protected landmark, chief among such plans will be the proper establishment of security and safety systems like modern anti-burglary systems and fire suppression. An NHL spokesperson said they expected the Sanctuary to remove open to worshipers and church goers despite any renovations, and spoke highly of the historical precedence set by the church.

"Though always a minority, the Christian population in Jedoria has influenced many historical events in the Confederation's history, and the effects of Cornellian occupations can still be seen and felt in certain locations throughout Jedoria. Preserving Saint Peter's Sanctuary is a positive step in remembrance of Jedoria's past, so that future generations can see how far we've come down the road."

Church leaders reacted positively to the announcement and stated they would look forward to ensuring the Sanctuary remains functioning for many years to come.

[Jedoria]

In my heart, in my head

Maria had witnessed a thousand sunsets throughout her life. Watching as the final rays of sunlight slowly sink beneath the horizon was a calming sense of closure, of knowing the day was over and soon sleep would come. Maria liked watching them everyday if she could, no matter how many times she had seen them. In addition to it's soothing tranquility it would bring with it a thousand memories, but the more she recollected the more it tended to sour her mood. Flashes of images and names would swirl and linger, faces and voices echoing with every thought. On the worst of nights they would escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks and she would stay in her room, rocking slowly back and forth.

She tried to shut most of them away, lock them behind a safe deep within the recesses of her mind, but she was powerless to stop the most potent from leaping to the forefront of her mind. She would bury her head into her chest and arms as the most prominent of them would appear, memories of a light grey but vibrant eyes, less prominent cheekbones but a small and smooth nose. A laugh and subtle swinging of arms, and suddenly like a stallion bursting through the gate her mind was racing, remembering all the times she had spent with him. She gripped the fabric of her sweater tighter, fingers digging into her own skin as she tried to avoid remembering him, knowing the final chapter on their time together would end with screams and rage, a sense of betrayal as he walked a path that set her in the cross hairs of what was now unfolding in their homeland.

But it was inevitable on nights like these, so familiar to the evenings spent together in a shared comfortable embrace, yet separated by time, that Maria was at her weakest. Normally she turned to music, amping her radio up until music blasted and reverberated throughout the house, causing loose items and objects to vibrate. But tonight her parents were home, lounging in the downstairs living room. Despite invitations to join them, Maria had declined, choosing the sanctity of her room and the comfort of her bed sheets over the attempts at conversation that would surely follow. Even if they were well intentioned the awkwardness of it all would be too much that any genuine connection and understanding would be lost. Part of her nevertheless urged her to go downstairs and at least make small talk. She could tell from their brief glances they were concerned, not just for their own safety but that of their only daughter, knowing their foreign blood made them targets in these turbulent times.

Maria let her eyes fall onto her legs, splayed out over her bed lazily, having not moved in several minutes, decision still not made on to what exactly she planned to do with her evening. Her room provided several offers of entertainment, but her usual escapes failed to grab her attention this time around. Her small television didn't offer her anything new, nor her book, nor her cellphone. Her parents had worked hard to provide her with entertainment and try to make her life more comfortable, knowing high school was not kind on her. Maria hadn't fully appreciated them until now, unfortunately her mind was too distracted to make use of them. Maria was too distracted in fact to hear the first car door slam, or the sounds of heavy boots on the approaching walkway to the house. The first loud knocks on the door scarcely registered on her mind, so lightly so she barely acknowledged it.

Alone in her room Maria was quasi-isolated from the scene that unfolded in the bottom floor of her home, at least initially. She didn't know of the cautious approach her father made to the door, an inquisitive and somewhat alarmed eye peering out to see the black fatigues of a group he had feared for some time now. Maria sighed inwardly, only after that did she suddenly hear the voices down below, the soft, sweet and tart voice of her mother, and cautious drawl of her father, and the alarmingly harsh and sharp words of the black clothed figures, their bullying swagger and brandished weapons held firm. It wasn't until the first yelps of pain that were delivered that Maria rose her head and seemingly awoke from her daze. The continued cries and sounds of thuds and stomps caused her to rather rapidly rise from her bed and exit her room, making her way to the stairs that served as the sole rise from the first to second floor of her home. She stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at the scene unfolding below.

Figures dressed in black had swarmed through the first floor of Maria's home. Her father was being pressed against the wall, an arm pressed into his neck with enough pressure and force to turn his face a deep red. He seemed to struggle against the weight of the agent holding him down, but her father was still fighting back with swinging arms and kicking legs. Her mother was restrained as well, but shaking and swinging her own arms while one of the figures attempted to restrain her. Both her parents tried in vain to fight back against the Internal Security agents that had broken down their doors, interrupted their lives and were in the process of making them disappear.

Maria watched with frightful eyes that widened as her jaw dropped, having difficulty understanding the situation that was unfolding before her, in her own house, happening to her own family. The hushed tones and rumors that were spoken to among the less desired had come true, and Maria could only watch in horror as her father reached for a flower vase and smashed it into the head of one of the agents. Now seemingly justified in their actions, one of them drew out a small metal object who's identify was a mystery to Maria until she heard the loud, screaming bang that was a gunshot, and suddenly her father went stiff and slowly slid down the wall, leaving a trail of slick red in his wake.

The scream that erupted from her throat came without warning, an immediate reaction that managed to somehow overpower the gun shot in grabbing everyone's attention. Maria could only scream as loud as her lungs would allow as she watched her father die, ignorant of how the agents now focused on her. One of them without a moments hesitation barreled up the stairs, rushing right for her. The screams of her mother telling her to run weren't heard as Maria suddenly bolted from the top of the stairs, racing for the former safety of her room. Thundering footsteps of heavy boots followed her, shattering any illusion that any part of her home was safe from these invaders. She slammed the door closed behind her, the hinges squealing and wood groaning in protest at it was violently ripped open by the field agent, who stood in her doorway, ominous, face concealed by mask and helmet.

Maria stood in the center of the room, paralyzed in shock and fear as the lumbering figure lunged forward and wrapped his powerful arms around her, forcing her to the ground as he attempted an arrest. Maria's mind exploded into a frenzy of action as she attempted to fight back, swinging, kicking, thrashing wildly about like an animal, attempting to escape the clutches of her would-be attacker. The agent tried to wrestle her under control, bringing his heavier body weight and stronger muscles to restrict her movements and limit her resistance. He was yelling at her, but Maria could make out no words in her frantic state, her own wild movements and primal screams, more akin to a frightened animal than human, drowned out his words.

She was so busy fighting back she didn't recognize the all too familiar voice, even as it began repeating her name with increasing intensity. She frantically tried to stop her arms from being restricted, finally managing to break free enough to wrap her fingers around the throat of her assailant. Putting all her effort into crushing the area, she pressed as hard as she could, eyes shooting up to meet the partially obscured face of the agent. Maria continued to squeeze, having not realized her attacker wasn't so much assaulting her but trying to restrain her, every fiber of her being going into restricting the man's breathing. In the struggle they reversed roles, tossing to the side so Maria was atop the agent, hands still clenched tightly around his throat. She could feel the bulging of his Adam's apple and the clawing of his fingers on her arms as he tried to break free, even while he still repeated her name with receding strength.

Maria ignored everything else, pouring all of her energy into closing off the man's airway, even as he struggled to say her name. Maria blinked and ignored the tears of rage and fury that flowed, hands still pressing tightly as the agent's legs kicked and his entire body seemed to shudder as his body was deprived of oxygen. Despite his weight advantage he was unprepared for the ferocity of the young woman who had just witnessed her father's death, and now he was the subject of her retribution. Maria put all of her weight into the choke hold, pressing down on her arms so her grip pressing into the agent's throats. Her mind was wild with rage, shock, fear and sadness, so much to the point that she didn't register the continued cries of her name, neither did she recognized the small and smooth nose that stopped inhaling as his throat was firmly closed off, before finally the agent ceased his struggles and lay still. His light grey but vibrant eyes stared up into space, lifeless, while Maria sobbed uncontrollably, tears dropping onto the agent's face.

She was still sobbing when the other agents stormed her room and secured her behind a pair of handcuffs, taking her away from her home, leaving behind nothing but shattered dreams and memories in their wake.

[Jedoria]

New waves

Elections were soon due in Peregrino. The former Imperator, Marcus Santori, was a clear favorite for Viceroy of the province. He faced no real opposition; there were a few candidates from various backgrounds that had declared their intentions to run, but none of them had attracted any real attention, or at least enough to warrant a real threat to Santori's chances. His platform was fairly simple and moderate, maintaining the status quo for many of of the former Republic's citizens while pushing for integration into the Confederation. It would be steady, methodical, and hopefully wouldn't step on anyone's toes. A few rallies were held in place like Aqua Vita, and some smaller towns like Asculum and Signifier. The former Imperator smiled and waved and spoke of progress and peace, but his message was not always well received.

With Jedorian annexation came Confederate laws and taxes. Most of Peregrino's population were of the Imperial Christian church, and while they faced no legal discrimination, some members, including PIF supporters, watched with concern of the events unfolding in the homeland. News of suspected discrimination and persecution, if not necessarily directed their way, resulted in hushed conversations and some worry. It didn't help that just shortly after the annexation, the national Gendarmerie had been disbanded and replaced with the Department of Internal Security. Some Peregrino's noted with alarm as the normally friendly and courteous police officers were replaced with cold, distant field agents cloaked in black and armed like they were soldiers.

Confederate laws and taxes were met with mixed reactions. While the Jedorian government could now pour it's ample resources into Peregrino, improving roads, power grids, rail transportation, irrigation, water treatment and sewer systems, with it came increasing demands for revenue. More wealthy citizens soon found themselves required to pay noticeably heavier tax burdens as the Confederation demanded more funds to finance it's public projects and fuel it's war machine. Some Peregrino's grumbled with varying levels of annoyance as they were forced to hand over their hard earned money to tax collectors. In quiet town halls some voices rang loudly with annoyance, decrying the new laws and regulations that they had previously not been forced to obey.

Other, more covert operations, were carried out in Perengrino as well. A small but vocal minority of land owners in Peregrino were not natives nor Jedorians, they were Haranese, Barans, and others of Edomite origins who had settled the island some time ago, and after the Peregrino War and ended up on the Confederate side of the island, but had refused to leave their traditional homes. Some had watched with worry as the Blue Fist came to fly over all of the former Republic. A few had finally fled, taking their belongings and family and leaving for the Dependency, while the more stubborn stuck to their roots. They didn't last long.

In the night, their homes were swarmed, the remnants bound, gagged, and blindfolded before being tossed into unmarked vans and disappearing off the map. Their property and assets were seized and sold off, providing another source of income for the Confederation from their newly acquired territory. Within a few weeks the Province of Peregrino was nearly devoid of Christians not of the Imperial Church.

Once the purging of the island was complete, the reinforcement began. Once it had been confirmed the Imperium had stationed a carrier group off the island, Field Marshall Cernea had ordered the secret reinforcement of the island, with nearly seventy tactical missile launch systems, firing both cruise and ballistic missiles, which were unloaded, and deployed in camouflaged positions across the Province. A geosynchronous surveillance satellite constantly watched over the island, as did a 24/7 patrol of UAVs and early warning radar stations, watching both the land and marine borders of the Province. With the SOSUS line between Novitera and Jedoria now complete, the Confederation was capable of ensuring there were no unrecognized incursions into their sphere of control.

With the Charum Hakkor[i] and it's supporting elements still near Gloria Regis, the [i]Forthencho and it's own compliment of destroyers, cruisers, frigates, submarines and support vessels were brought in to provide naval defense of the island. Calliope long range SAM systems and supporting medium range and SHORAD units replaced older systems on the island to add to Peregrino's air defense network.

News that yet another extra-regional state had declared war on Gloria Regis had done little to ease the concerns of the Confederation that further foreign intervention in the region would only lead to more trouble. If these new infidels showed any actual signs of interference, Cernea was prepared to give the order to deploy long range bombers out of Peregrino in support of the Shraileeni.

[Jedoria]

Take me to your best friends house

Highway 77 connected the southern city of Eitria to the more centralized metropolitan areas of Jedoria, including Sykios. Running east it passed through Damos, before connecting with 68 that took people north from Damos, before turning east again onto 73 that went towards Zerana. The final stretch between Sykios and Zerana was fortunately the shortest leg of the journey for Denisa Poénaru, who had embarked on her journey just as the sun rose on the horizon. She had timed it well; had she left just two days later large portions of her intended path of travel would've been shut down for road maintenance and care. This time she was free to pass through province to province unmolested. Though in the back of her mind she knew she had escaped quickly enough to elude detection by the Department of Internal Security, every time she passed a provincial checkpoint manned by the armed agents in black, she had to suppress a small trace of fear before she had her ID card returned and sped on her way. They may have seem largely disinterested in the young woman, but a certain anxiety had taken hold since her break in and showed no signs of receding.

To distract herself Denisa tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel as music alive from the radio. The latest releases from the Message Men were a bit calming as she changed lanes and finally came upon the outskirts of Sykios, which eventually became the city limits, the glass and steel skyline of the Confederation's most polarized city coming into view. Sykios wasn't the biggest city in the Confederation, but it certainly was unique. Strikes and protests weren't common in Jedoria (at least until recently), but if they did occur, more than likely Sykios was an epicenter. Sykios's provincial and city laws made it an attractive venue for businesses both national and international, but it also boasted impressive universities both state run and private, drawing in a lot of students. The result was Sykios was a clash of ideals and ideologies that made it prone to swing wildly during election cycles.

Denisa had visited the twisted plenty of times, but never with this amount of vigor or determination. Memory guided her as much as road signs did, familiar streets and paths melting before her as she guided her sedan through the suburbs of Sykios, making her way through intersection after intersection until she finally broke free from the rows of houses to come across the outlying entrances to the University of Sykios. Just a few years ago Denisa had called this place her home, graduating with her degree and reveling in the memories of so many nights spent studying, drinking, and cramming for classes. It almost brought a smile to her lips, despite the severity of her reasoning for returning. She parked in the same spot where she had pulled out of two and a half years prior, cutting the engine and stepping outside. Summer's in Jedoria could get fairly hot, but Mother Gaia had blessed the province with a surprising blast of cool winds from the north, keeping the temperature a more comfortable 74 degrees freedomheit.

There were students milling around, walking to and fro, laughing, talking, discussions either casual or surprisingly heated. As was typical of college,... actually I don't know. Never been to college. I joined the Army precisely because I was too scared of going to college. So I'm actually just going off what I see in movies and TV shows and books and games and stuff. In fact when I'm writing this I'm thinking of Life is Strange. That's a good game man, I need to finish that. The soundtrack is legit. Where was I? Oh yeah.

Anton Zamfir had known Denisa for a few years now, and on more than one occasion they had spent nights together in long standing back and forth arguments about politics, ethics and morals. Zamfir was, despite occasional arrogance and crass, a pretty intelligent and well spoken person, and on more than one occasion Denisa had found herself beaten in debate, though she rarely admitted it thanks to her stubborn pride. That was just another trait the two shared.

Anton still lived in the same dorm room he had been in since Denisa had been in school, though as she entered into the dorm room she could note some changes. A Message Men poster now took up part of the right wall, though the covers were still the same. A new laptop sat on a familiar desk, and still seated in the now creaking seat was Anton. Denisa didn't try to hide the small smile and feeling of warmth as she embraced her friend, who likewise smiled back. The joy of reunion didn't last long.

"Denisa, what's up? You sounded real serious."

"This is serious, Anton." She nodded towards his laptop. "Can I use it?"

"Should I delete my browser history first, or..." Anton ventured with a small grin and a false look of embarrassment.

"Anton, I'm being real here. I've got something you need to see." Denisa reiterated.

With raised eyebrows, Anton motioned with his arm for her to move forward. Sitting as the desk, she produced the thumb drive and inserted it into the USB of the computer, taking control of the mouse as she waited for the device to be registered. A positive sounding noise was emitted by the laptop and a small notification appeared confirming the device was being read. She double clicked on the icon and a small window appeared, revealing the contents of the drive. She double clicked one then moved away from the laptop. "See for yourself." She gestured with her hand. Anton squinted before moving in closer to read the contents.

The thumb drive contained a number of documents, photos, and reports, all of them created by personnel within the Department of Internal Security, and apparently circulated over their closed Department network. The first few pages Anton read were ominous in their nature, making references to clandestine operations that were described as "cleansing" and "clamps". They referenced actions not just in Eitria, but Sykios, Davion, Terraphty, Luxor, Makos, Haroff, Malva. All across Jedoria, the Department was engaging on some massive operation that was apparently intended to remain covert. Anton's eyes read the reports line by line, face etched into a look of grim seriousness.

The next set of documents were far more in depth. A list of names and groups had been compiled and organized according to various characteristics; size, notoriety, ideology, popularity, history. They ranged from civil rights groups, student activists, to religious organizations of Christians, Magi, and to political parties like socialists and marxists. Each group was tagged and labeled, with a description giving a sort of assessment on how much Internal Security needed to watch them. Anton noted with a pang of concern that he was familiar with some of these groups, and several had been marked "high priority".

Then came the real horror. Pictures and reports of hundreds of individuals were compiled, and each one revealed the person had been kidnapped, subject to 'interrogation sessions', and then subsequently imprisoned, usually after signing some sort of confession. Anton's jaw dropped as he read the documents that described methods of torture with disturbing casualness, discussing forms of physical punishment, psychological torment, sensory deprivation; it was enough to make Anton's skin crawl. There were hundreds of cases from a variety of backgrounds: Communists, Magi, Socialists, Vozgarni, Christians, Marxists, far left wing supporters. Hundreds of names and faces, all of them labeled as targets, taken from their homes, families, friends, and lives, and subject to inhumane practices, all so they would admit to false accusations of treason, espionage, and of course, terrorism.

Finally, the last section gave implications to future operations, including areas and persons of interest. The Reverend Paul Vlaicu was on the list, though curiously his status was labeled "To be determined". By the time Anton was finished, he leaned back in his chair, eyes wide with shock and face pained. This shit was happening in his own homeland. He had realized it before, and spoke against it, but to see the evidence so blatantly placed in front of him made him shudder. He turned to find Denisa resting on his bed, waiting patiently. With a slight surprise, Anton realized he had been reading the documents for nearly an hour. He had trouble finding the right words until he managed "Denisa, this is...unreal."

Denisa nodded grimly. "This is the kind of shit they're doing, all while they talk about peace, security, and anti-terrorism initiatives. They're a bunch of fucking evil pigs." She spat out and rose from the bed. "But now we have the truth. Once people find out, they'll be forming lynch mobs and looking for Olsogovic and his cronies."

Anton stole another glance at the laptop. "They'll deny it all. Say it was fabricated." He said quietly.

Denisa snorted in disgust. "Of course they will. But this," she jabbed a finger at the laptop, "Will make people see what's really going on."

Anton met Denisa's gaze. "Will it?"

Denisa looked at her friend with an expression of surprise. "Why wouldn't? Don't tell me you're questioning the authenticity. Do you have any idea-"

Anton cut her off before they could go down that trail. "It's not me, Denisa. I believe this. The problem is getting the country to." Before Denisa could speak, Anton tapped away at his laptop, opening up his web browser and going to the webpage of a prominent Jedorian news service. He clicked on an article and pointed to the text and accompanying photographs.

"This is the kind of shit Internal Security does." He explained, pointing to a picture of a family, the focus put on a smiling man somewhere in his thirties. "Every time one of their agents gets killed or something bad happens, they unleash a wave of pictures and articles on all the major news networks, talking about how brave their agents are, how valiant they're sacrifices, and if one of them is killed in the line of duty, they plaster family portraits and videos of their grieving family members all over the news, so the only thing your average Ion and Ionna sees is what the Department wants them to see."

"I know that." Denisa said a bit hotly. "I work in journalism, remember? But that can't stop us from unleashing the truth."

"It won't." Anton agreed. "But we have to do more than just release this. We need to convince the average person that what's going on is wrong."

"How can they not realize that already? Don't they see what's happening?"

"Plenty of them don't." Anton pointed out. "And even if some of them do, they would prefer not to get involved."

Denisa folded her arms. "That's even worse. They see what's going on, the kind of shit that Internal Security is pulling off, and they just go 'oh well'?"

Anton shook his head. "It's not that simple. Look, the average person, sure they may not like communists, socialists, or Christians, but that doesn't mean they want to see them get tortured and arrested. But more than anything they just want to get on with their lives. They've got their own families and jobs to worry about, to make sure the bills are paid and there's food on the table. Can you blame them?"

Denisa opened her mouth to respond, but Anton continued. "That's what we've really got to do. Convince people that this is a serious issue that needs to be solved. We need to bring it into the public eye and make sure everyone sees it. That way no one can ignore it. We have to get the average person saying 'this is wrong, and I don't want it to happen'. We have to educate them, teach them what's happening.

Denisa scoffed. "Good luck. You're counting on the average person to stand up? People can be pretty stupid, you know."

Again Anton shook his head. "The average person is of average intelligence. Sure, they may not know the full story or have an in depth understanding, but you can't blame them for that. Who has the time to sit down and read a volume on economics, politics, foreign policy, and domestic issues? Very few can, which is why the news is so important, because it compresses information like that into small packets that your everyday Ion can hear and understand. That's what we need to do, we need mainstream media on our side."

Denisa saw where he was going with this. "So now we talk to Decebal." Decebal, their mutual long time friend, worked for the Capital Report, a fairly objective and non-biased news center based in Strana Mechty, but had an office here in Sykios. Anton nodded. "Let's go pay him a visit."

[Jedoria]

Leak indicates Internal Security has kidnapped and tortured hundreds of minorities

The Capital Report, Est. 1898

SYKIOS - In a stunning development, an anonymous source has leaked to the Capital Report earlier today a series of digital documents and reports that reveal the Department of Internal Security, Jedoria's national law enforcement, has conducted a campaign of systematic kidnapping, torture, and imprisonment of hundreds of minorities across Jedoria, including Communists, Socialists, Marxists, Christians, Vozgarni, Magi, and Anarchists. The reports allege that multiple district commands across Jedoria identified persons of interest, subjected them to increased surveillance measures up to and including wiretapping, unwarranted searches, and finally, unofficial and discreet arrests of said persons, almost all of which were afterwards subjected to what was described as "autonomous interrogation sessions", descriptions of which seem more analogous to torture, including physical beating and placing suspects under extreme mental stress and trauma.

Almost all of the suspects, following their sessions, were apparently forced to sign statements confessing to ties to known terrorist groups and outlawed organizations, which were subsequently published as proof of their guilt. Nearly all suspects have since them been imprisoned in high security detention facilities, the whereabouts which are unknown.

The leak prompted immediate outcry from left wing activists, who claim the revelation is undeniable proof of the illegal and morally deplorable actions undertaken by the Department of Internal Security, which has come under scrutiny by minority groups for alleged acts of discrimination and intimidation. The Reverend Paul Vlaicu, a noted voice for the growing coalition of left wing and Christian forces, told reporters he was "shocked" at the leak, however stated he had come to expect this kind of brutality from Internal Security. "I'm afraid we have seen the true nature of the organization that at one point served the people of the Confederation. Now they have embarked on a path of violence and evil, and act against the very same citizens they previously swore to protect from lawlessness and crime. Now it appears they themselves are the criminals, and I fear this nation's soul has been tainted by the stains of corruption and cruelty."

The Department of Internal Security reacted strongly against the leak, declaring the reports "outright fabrications" aimed at tarnishing the image of the Department. Supreme Chief Pyotr Olsogovic released a public statement regarding the leak:

"I cannot help but express my extreme dissatisfaction with the workers and reports at the Capital Report, a previously well run and objective sources of news and other media. In doing this, they have chosen to side with criminal elements, who are manufacturing false documents in an attempt to incriminate the good men and women in uniform. The Department of Internal Security has since it's inception, acted in the best interest of the Jedorian people. Even today as terrorism strikes in places like New Othman and New Edom, the Department stands strong and ready to meet any new evil that appears on our borders and threatens our home. This 'leak' is nothing more than the work of underground elements, certainly malevolent in nature, attempting to undermine efforts at preserving Jedorian stability and security, by casting doubt onto the good intentions of the Department. Rest assured, my agency will continue to act in the best interests of the Confederation, regardless of what degenerates attempt to say otherwise."

Minister of Internal Affairs Otilia Țurcanu likewise dismissed the reports as "outrageously false", and insisted that Internal Security continues to operate within the confines of the law as dictated by the Domestic Security Act.